The tavern is dirty, disgusting even, some might say. Its wooden tables are littered with crumbs and spills that never disappear no matter how much the barmaid scrubs. Its seats are occupied by boisterous men with knives on their waists and grit between their teeth, who shout and laugh and start fights over games of dice.
The tavern is not a place for a lady of her stature, it is not a place for a queen.
Yet, the tavern is the place where she felt safest.
Because the tavern was where he was.
It was where she could sit across from him and bathe in the light of his smile. It was where she could laugh at his jokes, listen to his adventures and lace his fingers through her own.
They first met in the tavern. They had their first kiss just outside its door, right beneath the torch meant to light up the entryway. Its storage room was where they'd first admitted their secrets - that he was an outlaw and she was a queen. It was where they both dejectedly, reluctantly and foolishly tried to insist that they could never be, that it was better to let go now before one of them got caught, or hurt, or killed.
The tavern is what she dreamed of during those three months when she thought she could give him up. The memory of those sticky wooden tables and the tattoo on his arm was always on the fringes of her mind - and her heart- even when she tried to sleep. It's those memories that had her slipping beyond the castle walls, falling back into his arms like she never even left.
The tavern was the first place she shared a bed with him. She'd watched the sunrise through window of the room above the kitchen, with his breath against the back of her neck, knowing that nothing would ever be the same.
The tavern is the place she'll miss the most from the realm she was born in. Her safe haven from the castle walls, a princess' demands and her husband's rage. The first place she ever felt true love. The last place she saw before grabbing Robin's hand and jumping off to a new realm. A free one.
This bar that she's in doesn't have wooden tables. There are no crumbs or spills on the tables, no torches by the door, the patrons carry no knives that she can see. It's not the tavern.
But she's still sitting across from him, she's still bathing in the light of his smile and lacing his fingers through her own.
The land without magic is curious, but it's where he is. And that makes it the safest place she can possibly be.
He looks somewhat uncomfortable in his new clothes, but he still beams at her from across the table, comfortingly squeezing her hand. "Are you ready for a new adventure?"
"With you? Always."
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