It was one of the few times young Hal found himself within the castle walls. He hadn't felt like being a reprobate today which was odd. Today was nice weather-wise. The sky was a crisp clear blue with a few white wispy clouds.

He sighed as he leaned against one of the stone pillars. Something was in the air; something that told him something was coming. He wasn't sure if he should be worried or not. That feeling had hit him several times before and it had brought both good and bad news.

A door down the corridor opened and a couple pairs of boots scurried across the stone. Hal turned to see a couple of his father's ministers standing at the top of the stairs leading to the courtyard. A horse and rider appeared, galloping hard before sliding to a stop. The rider jumped off his sweating mount and rushed up the stairs. The three heads bent together for a brief instant. One of the court hurried back inside.

That sent that feeling again. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not. It made him uneasy. Something was happening and he hadn't a clue what it was. He didn't like being left in the dark.

Then came the sound of horses, quite a few, coming up the way. Armed guards surrounded a pair of others, obviously important. Well… they would have had to have been to get an audience with his father. The guards dismounted followed by the lord, or, duke or whoever he was. The last atop his horse was in fact a she. Hal could tell very little of her from where he was, save that she had what looked like dark blond hair, though there was a reddish tint to it, and a confident look about her. She refused the offered help and dismounted the horse herself, standing behind and just off to the side of who Hal now assumed to be either her husband or, in the more likely of cases, her father. They were led inside by the remaining minister. He considered following, but decided against it in favor of not seeing his father.

Hal would find out who this mystery female was soon enough.

Come to think of it, she might be here as a marriage option for John.

Or maybe possibly even himself.

That was a thought. She looked pretty enough. But he wasn't all too keen on being saddled down yet.

Hours later, he found himself in the middle of one of Falstaff's stories. Mistress Quickly was bustling around like a mad woman. The drink flowed freely. Another round of raucous laugher drowned out any noise short of the ceiling collapsing on their very heads. He turned slightly as he gasped for breath and caught sight of another clad in leather, solid black with silver designs. His eyes strayed to the figure more fully without his conscious consent. To say he was surprised would have been a grievous understatement. The leather trousers should have given the identity away, save that they encased a small waist and wide hips not to mention that she rivaled Mistress Quickly in height. If that wasn't enough, the leather jacket seemed slightly strained across her chest which was without doubt that of a woman not a man… or even a girl, though she looked young enough to be one.

She wasn't at first glance beautiful. But the more he watched, the more she became so. She held herself with confidence as though she belonged here as much she did in the presence of the king. Mistress Quickly was all over herself to get the girl a drink and seat to which the girl simply hopped up on a table, her legs dangling over the side with the poise of one who had been riding for most of their lives. Her dark brown slightly wavy hair was long, looking like it would fall to just under her shoulder blades. He wondered who she was as he'd never seen her before.

His attention was forced from her when Falstaff hauled himself to his feet. The fat man was on his way to falling over drunk. Hal noticed his line of sight on the girl.

"Pretty thing in'it that one?" he gestured.

"Mhm… very…" he replied more to humor the old man.

"Wish me luck," Falstaff patted his arm and waddled over to her. He followed, but kept his distance. Falstaff said something to her, but she didn't seem to appreciate it. The other man tried again, reaching for her hand. In an instant, she jerked and there was a flash of silver between the fat man's fingers.

"Leave me be or I will not miss next time," she warned, eyes glinting like flint. He almost fell backward out of his chair. Hal's curiosity was spiked. Falstaff stumbled backwards, sputtering like a madman. The prince stifled his laugh and nodded in agreement though he didn't know what the man said. He slapped the other on the shoulder and shoved him back into the mess of people. When he was sure Falstaff was otherwise occupied, he turned back to the girl.

"I feel that I must apologize for my companion. He is, ah how shall I put it, drunk," he grinned in his most winning fashion.

"No harm done," she replied as she pulled the dagger from the table. Her tone wasn't as warm as he would have liked; did she even know who he was. "Though I would advise better company."

Before he could respond, he was pulled backward into the crowd. Ned had done something stupid and he had to fix it before someone got stabbed. The ruckus was enough for his ears to ring.

"And here we have-" Poins had obviously had several too many; Hal could smell the drink on him as Poins stretched to wrap an arm around his shoulders, "-one of the finest singing voices in all England!"

"Shut it," the prince hissed.

"Alright then! Have us song!" someone, equally if not more so inebriated, shouted. Hal growled to himself. The rest of the patrons, most of them highly intoxicated, started chanting, "Song! Song! Song!" till it was a steady rhythm beating in his head. He raised his hands to quiet them.

"What shall it be then?" he asked all the while dreading the answer. There was a cheer before they started spouting off suggestions. Many of the requests were not fit for female company. He cringed as he racked his brain for the least offending. Another song was called out, this one by a voice he only knew because of having spoken to her a few moments before. The choice was of a darker more somber tone. It was often sung around campfires during wartimes… or at least that's how he'd always associated it.

He decided and announced the choice much to the chagrin of many. The musician, who was surprisingly lucid, started up with the tune. Hal climbed on top of a table and crouched, waiting a full minute and a half waiting while the song built. Somehow the stance made the whole ordeal a bit more tolerable. He finally opened his mouth, the words he knew yet they sounded foreign. His ears must have been playing tricks on him as he heard a softer voice joining his. The song went on to a place where it was solely for instruments. Hal glanced around in mild embarrassment and was surprised to see Quickly pushing the girl toward him saying something about "Sing! Sing!"

The girl looked uncomfortable, but hopped up on the table with him, feet dangling as before. The pair started up again; he realized then that his ears had worked just fine. She suddenly lifted herself to kneel same as him. He found his eyes drawn to her fingers as they started drumming the beat against her thigh. They were precise movements, ones that were practiced. She smiled faintly at him as they sang. Her eyes held something of a mystical, far-reaching sort; one that spoke of imagined futures.

Upon the song's end, she turned to him with another faint smile and a nod before she hopped off the table and headed for the door. He hesitated for a moment before throwing caution to the wind and rushed after her. She'd only gone down about a dozen strides. He strode toward her, his long legs catching her in seconds.

"Allow me to escort you to your lodgings," he bent slightly, trying to grasp her expression. She was much shorter than he was, the top of her head only just brushing his shoulders.

"That's very kind of you, but unnecessary," she brushed him off.

"I insist," he turned around so he could see her face while he walked backwards. That seemed to bring a flicker of amusement to her dark eyes. "A lady should not be walking by herself."

"Very well," she conceded, "I'm not far from where you reside anyway." That took him aback.

"And how would you know where my lodgings are?"

"It's not hard to guess," she replied. They walked a bit in silence. She didn't seem to want to offer anything personal and he was loath to ask for fear of putting her off.

"Here we are," she stopped in front of a side street, "My door is only down here. I thank you." She bowed slightly and left him there. He frowned and walked toward the castle. Nothing was down that street…

She lied to him!

Hal turned around and hurried back to the alley only to find her gone. She had disappeared and he hadn't even gotten her name. He slammed his fist into a wall in frustration. Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. It was late as it was and he wanted to be at breakfast to meet the visitors.

Morning came too fast as it always seemed to do. His head felt foggy and he felt like his thought processes weren't working. Of course that was a thought in and of itself but he didn't want to think about that. He splashed his face with cold water and felt a little better. All of his siblings were already there when he arrived, but his father was absent as were the visitors.

"I just don't understand how the Lord of Dunelap can think that bringing his daughter along was a good idea," John was saying.

"Maybe he's trying to impress one of you enough to propose marriage to her," Humphrey replied.

"What's this about marriage?" Hal asked.

"Nothing. Humphrey is being odd," John answered.

"I am not!" the younger brother exclaimed, "Why else would a lord bring his daughter if not to attempt a union!"

"Perhaps she is here of her own accord," Hal suggested, sipping form his goblet.

"Hardly," Humphrey replied, "It's a week's travel by horse. What girl, let alone lady, wants to make that trip?" He had a point there.

The matter was dropped as King Henry IV made his entrance with this Lord of Dunelap. He was of a quiet nature, though Hal could sense a great ability to command forces. Just behind them was the last of their party, the daughter. She was small in stature, but with curves in all the right places. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head in an elaborate up-do.

She looked a princess, or possibly even a queen in her own right.

Her expression was closed off, though Hal thought he saw a hint of humor in her dark eyes as she was seated across from him. She was proper, not speaking at all. Her eyes were kept on her plate for most of the meal, but Hal could tell she was listening intently. It intrigued him to the point of studying her intensely. Little quirks in her mouth or slight pinching of her eyes were the only things that gave away her opinion on the topics discussed.

"Harry!"

His attention was jerked forcefully from the object of his study, "Yes?"

"What are your plans for today?" his father asked him.

"I know not, my father. It's early yet," he replied. He caught the girl in front of him hiding a smile. His jaw clenched.

How dare she laugh at him.

"Perhaps you could find time in your busy schedule to accompany the lady on the moors."

Hal nodded, catching the sarcastic tone in his father's voice. So he was to have her to himself. This was sounding more and more like an arranged marriage.

"Would you be comfortable with this, Alvara?" the lord of Dunelap asked.

Alvara…

She looked up from her plate, gazing at her father before turning to the prince and pinning him with a look. They were intelligent eyes; ones that made him wonder what was going on that pretty head of hers. She smiled coyly.

"Of course," she sounded excited a reserved way, "He is an honorable prince and therefore would do me no harm." She stared at him as though she were challenging him to disagree.

"Of course not," he replied, baring his teeth with a grin. She nodded once in his direction before going back to her meal. It took him a moment to realize who he had just conversed with.

The girl from Mistress Quickly's last night.

He grinned to himself. That could be useful information later. But one question bothered him.

What was a lady such as herself doing in a place like that?

Hal excused himself and left the hall. He had to get away and think about the mystery that was Lady Alvara. She was a charming puzzle; he was determined to solve it.

Alvara hadn't seemed to know who he was last night so he could force himself to overlook her behavior. However, this morning, she would have recognized him and at least give some notion that she was apologetic of said manners. But nothing. She hadn't done a thing. If anything, she acted as though they'd met properly yesterday in court and last night hadn't happened.

It was afternoon before he saw her again. She was on a walkway around the far side of the castle, the side that looked over the land as opposed to the town. Her formal gown was gone and replaced with clothes that looked strangely like those he wore. Of course they weren't, these being tailored to her size and figure, but leather nonetheless… and trousers at that… like those she'd worn last night. Her hair was let down in rich brown waves that reached the back of her shoulder blades.

"Lady Alvara," he greeted as he stopped next to her.

"Prince," she replied.

"If I might be so bold," he started after she said nothing else, "Your name is uncommon. I myself have never heard of it before."

"You'd be right," she still hadn't looked at him, "Alvara means "elf warrior" and not many would want to name their child that."

"But yours did. Why?"

"Elves are a symbol of stealth and wisdom. One wants that in a ruler or, in my case, a ruler's wife," she finally glanced his way, the barest hint of a smirk touching her lips.

"What are you proposing?" Hal asked.

"Absolutely nothing," she turned back to the landscape, "You wanted to know about my name and I told you."

"Good," he retorted, "I wouldn't want a wife who visits taverns at all times of the night."

"Says the prince who does just that," was her snide remark.

"I am a man. You are a lady," he allowed the haughty tone through, "In fact, I'm surprised that you are not on your knees in front of me, begging me to not tell your father where you were last night." He was hoping that that might bring a little trepidation to her otherwise confident air.

"That would be assuming that my father knew not where I was," she replied with poise.

Well that hadn't worked.

"Your father would allow you to go into town unaccompanied?"

"I didn't say that either."

Now he was frustrated. He wanted her on the ground, pleading for his forgiveness. She should be mortified by her manners, not staring at him like he was something amusing.

It was as though she could read his thoughts.

He walked away to get a little space from her and some air.

"What were you even doing there?"

"I was just doing what young princes do," she replied with complete honesty.

"But you're a lady," he stressed the last word as he walked back toward her, "And that is no place for a lady," he leaned in close. She smelled of heather, sea salt, and something else that he couldn't put his finger on.

"That is where you're mistaken, my good Prince," she smirked at him, "I'm no lady."

"I daresay you are," he purred keeping his body close to hers; it seemed to unsettle her, though she was trying to hide it, "A creature exquisite as yourself could be nothing less."

"What can I say? I'm a son born a daughter," she sounded a little breathless. He took no notice of it though; her statement sent his head swimming.

"That makes no sense."

"Of course it does," she sidestepped to the side, away from him, "I am the eldest and at the time of my mother carrying me, my father did something stupid. He went through the required rituals and such, thinking that he'd done right by God. However, I was born instead of the son both my parents wanted. They've attempted four more times and have failed every endeavor."

"That does not make you a son," he replied.

"All my sisters look like my mother. They're beautiful and they're wanted by men of both this country and others as well. They know the court and its demands on the ladies of it. They can cross-stitch, talk of inane things as though it is the most important thing in the world and be poised at all times."

"And you cannot," he summed up. She shook her head.

"I have no desire to be made up pretty so my husband can show me off as some sort of prize. I've always had more interest in racing across the moors or sparring. My interests in court are the discussions of trade and combat. I even look like my father."

"And it's because of this that you feel that you're a son in a daughter's body?"

"That about sums it up, my Prince," she sounded saddened. Hal let that roll around in his brain for a few minutes. She should disgust him now. Knowing that she had no interest in being a lady of the court, a queen, should put him off entirely. Yet he found himself all the more intrigued by her.

She'd said that her sisters were beautiful to the point of having foreign suitors, but it was apparent that she didn't think herself even pretty. That was worthy of a good laugh. She must not pass many mirrors to think that of herself. Her forcefulness was explained by being the eldest of five. Normally, he didn't take kindly to people who challenged him. Alvara, on the other hand, amused him.

"It seems a bit late to go riding the moors," he finally said. She nodded and even though he was standing behind her, he could tell that she was waiting for that final rejection. He said nothing, waiting to see what she'd do or say.

"Might I be so bold to assume then, I shall see you on the morrow?" she asked hesitantly.

"You may," he replied. She turned slightly, just so their eyes met. Hers were full of surprise. She seemed to ask why.

"I believe I promised you a ride," he said as he stepped forward, "And you shall get it."

"Of course, my Prince," she replied.

"Tomorrow, mid-morning, does that suit you?"

She nodded. He smiled slightly and snapped his heels together before striding away. As he walked back to the door, he swore he heard a soft giggle. He couldn't be certain though. Alvara didn't seem like the sort of girl to giggle like so many blushing maidens.

Dinner was a merry affair, though Hal caught himself more interested with the once more done-up girl across the table from him. Now that he knew, he noticed that she did seem rather rigid in the dress as opposed to how smoothly she moved in the leather that afternoon. Her face was, as before, trained to her plate, though he did catch her glance up at him a few times.

"Did you enjoy your ride, Alvara?" her father asked at one point. She looked up at him before glancing at Hal. She apparently didn't know what to say.

"The time got away from me this afternoon. We'll be going tomorrow," the prince replied for her. She smiled a little in thanks. He nodded vaguely.

"What a shame," her father commented, "It really was a nice day today."

"Yes it was," she agreed, "Though I'm sure tomorrow will be better." Her eyes met his for an instant before falling back to her plate. The lord of Dunelap seemed caught off guard by that statement. He excused the pair of them shortly after.

"What was that about?" John asked, nudging Hal's arm.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," the crown prince replied.

"Do you not?" John was clearly skeptical, drawing the attention of the rest of the table.

"No. I do not," Hal stared at his brother, warning him to shut it.

"She seemed more comfortable around you today," the younger prince ignored him.

"We spoke this afternoon. That is all," Hal could feel his patience wearing thin. Thankfully, the matter was dropped, though he could feel his father's gaze burning into him. The king said nothing, but he didn't need to. Hal knew exactly was going through his father's head.

He found himself back at Mistress Quickly's, but even with Falstaff and Poins Hal found himself being distracted. Thoughts of last night, had it really only been last night?, ran through his head. He kept looking toward the door, hoping that she'd come back. His companions noticed that he was distracted and commented on it. Hal blew them off with an excuse which they swallowed. He left early, not being able to get into the atmosphere.

The night hours dragged by; he tossed and turned all night. By the time he rose in the morning, his bed looked like a war zone. His sheets had been torn from the foot of the mattress and lay half tangled by his feet and half on the floor. One pillow had joined the sheets on the floor somewhere and the other one had covered his face for a bit. He had never felt so frustrated in his life and the worst part was that he hadn't a clue why he was bothered in the first place. Alvara's voice haunted his dreams… what few he had… and her eyes… those deep, dark eyes… plagued him.

How in God's name had this happened?

He'd only met the girl yesterday!

Well technically, he'd met her two nights previous, but that was beside the point. They were practically strangers. He then reminded himself that princesses were often married off to perfect strangers for political gain. The girls would see their future husbands for the first time at the alter, their first words to each other their wedding vows.

Why was he even thinking of that?

Thirty-six.

That's how many hours it had taken for Lady Alvara to seep into his mind. She had taken over his dreams within two days. How much worse was it to get?

Breakfast was eaten quickly so to avoid Alvara and get outside in the fresh air sooner. His horse, Talon, was brought out by a stable boy. He tossed his large brown head and neighed.

"Easy," Hal took the reins, running a hand down the stallion's neck. The horse nudged his shoulder affectionately. Hal swung up on Talon's back and kneed him into a canter to the grounds outside. He ran Talon through his paces, wanting to warm him up for whatever was going to happen when Alvara arrived. Her riding skills were a mystery, though he suspected that they were rather advanced. He finally stopped under a large tree and just stayed there, looking over the landscape. Time passed, he wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, but at some point there was a thunder of hooves. They slid to a stop right beside him.

"Had I known you'd be waiting, I'd have come sooner," Alvara sounded slightly out of breath, but he could hear the smile.

"No matter," he replied, "What is your fancy this afternoon?"

"Have you raced recently?" he could hear the anticipation in her voice.

"I have not," he looked at her. She met his gaze, eyes glinting with something that excited him.

"Would you care to?"

He inclined his head, eyeing her curiously.

"To the other side of the river then?"

"As you wish."

"By your leave, my Prince," she fiddled with her reins; her horse, a dark grey, sidestepped away from Talon.

"Very well," he sighed, taking a calming breath, "Ready. Set-" Her horse shot away like an arrow. He was stunned for a second before kicking Talon into a gallop. His temper stretched thin; she'd cheated!

Alvara glanced over her shoulder and grinned at him. He felt his rage evaporate and urged Talon faster. The horses pulled almost even, Talon trailing by a neck.

She looked over at him with an impish expression and clicked her tongue, "Come on, Zephyr!" The stallion sped up, but Talon didn't want to be left behind and increased his pace. Hal could see the river coming up fast and before he knew it, they reached it. Alvara let out a war cry as the horses splashed across and burst into infectious laughter as they touched dry ground again.

"AH!" she gasped, "That was so much fun!" He laughed in response, still feeling his blood pounding in his veins. She abandoned her reins, letting them fall to her horse's neck, and leaned forward, draping her torso over the animal's withers and neck. He watched her in mute fascination, idly wondering how many ladies of the court, or females in general, would feel comfortable doing that. She looked peaceful and blissfully happy.

"You manage him admirably," Hal commented after a silence.

"Thank you," she straightened and turned to him, "My father wanted to give me a mare or gelding, but I told him that I could handle a stallion just fine."

He wondered if there was a double meaning to what she said. The look she gave him could be described as suggestive, but he wasn't certain and decided to not make a fool of himself. She turned the horse with her knees and let him walk over the river to drink. Her fingers went to her hair, combing through windblown locks.

"So what shall we do now?"

He was jerked from his musings of which he wasn't entirely sure, but assumed they had something to do with the petite brunette who was sitting now side-saddle. She was giving him an expectant look. Talon snorted beneath him and pawed at the ground.

"I beg your pardon?" he had no idea want she'd asked; only that she'd asked him something.

"What shall we do now?" she smiled a little, amused, "We've already proven the better rider."

"I haven't a care, Lady Alvara," he replied as he readjusted his reins to get Talon to stop his fidgeting, completely missing the possible jab at his person.

"Call me Alvara, please. The "lady" thing is irritating," she turned Zephyr parallel to the river and righted herself in the saddle.

"Well then," he offered a small smile, "you must call me Hal." She smiled in return.

"Hal doesn't fit you."

"Oh?"

"It's a boy's name," she urged Zephyr closer, "You're more of a… Harry… grown yet can still have fun." He thought about that. Hal was the name used by his family and close friends. It was a sign of familiarity.

Was she trying to distance herself?

No… that didn't seem to make sense. She seemed genuinely happy that they had dismissed formalities. So, perhaps, she simply thought that his name was as she said… childish. He didn't care. It was the name he'd used since birth. But if she wanted to call him Harry, he was ok with it; that was his name too.

He nodded in her direction. She smiled again. Hal couldn't explain the flutter that happened in his chest then and he didn't want to.

"So, Harry, what shall we do? Race again? Or perhaps a leisurely stroll?"

"Whatever fits your fancy, Alvara," he answered. She smirked at him and turned her stallion to cross the river. He urged Talon to follow and soon they were riding side-by-side back the way they'd come. The pair swapped stories about childhood. She asked what it was like to be in the castle. He asked about growing up thinking the way she did.

"And your mother has not tried to marry you off yet?" he joked. She grew quiet and he knew instantly that that had been the wrong thing to say.

"She died giving birth to Selena."

"I am so sorry. I..." he could have kicked himself. She looked at him, confused.

"Things like that happen. People die. It's a fact."

"I brought up a sensitive subject and I am truly sorry," he replied. She waved her hand in dismissal.

"I just miss her sometimes. No harm done."

"Positive?"

She looked at him; there was that damned flutter again, "Positive." They rode in silence for a time. She watched the landscape; he watched her. Now that he studied it, he realized that her hair really wasn't all that dark… at least not in the sun. There was some red and blond mixed in and when the sun would hit it… well… it almost took his breath away.

The sun was descending before they realized that they'd been out all day. Talon and Zephyr had only just started to slow down. Hal had immensely enjoyed himself and, by the looks of it, Alvara had as well.

"My lord!" a pair of soldiers galloped up looking quite panicked.

"What is it?" Hal reverted back to his snippy prince persona.

"The entire castle is in an uproar, sire. You must return immediately!"

Hal said nothing, just stared at the two irritably for ending his afternoon.

"Run on ahead. We'll follow," Alvara said with a touch of authority. The soldiers stared in shock. Hal felt his temper snap.

"Do what the lady said!"

The guards jumped into action and kicked their horses into a gallop.

"I apologize," her voice broke through, "I shouldn't have spoken for you." He said nothing, merely nodded. She was right; she shouldn't have spoken for him. However, he hadn't reacted and she took over for him, giving the guards the same order he would have had he been thinking.

They arrived at the castle and were escorted immediately to the throne room. The council was there as were his brothers and her father. Henry IV sat on his throne looking angry.

"Alvara!" the lord of Dunelap rushed forward, letting etiquette fly, throwing his arms around his daughter, "Thank God you're safe!"

"Of course, I'm safe," her voice was muffled by the furs her father was wearing.

"Where. Have you been?" the king demanded.

"My king," Hal answered, "the Lady Alvara and I have been on the moors. Time flew. I was unaware of the hour, I swear by God. Had I known, I would have returned her sooner."

"Tis true," Alvara pulled away from her father, "He was nothing but a gentleman." She looked at his father, "He's been a fine host this day. The hours passed like minutes. We didn't mean to cause worry."

The following silence was stifling. Hal wanted nothing more than to leave the room and hide in Mistress Quickly's for the evening. He glanced covertly in Alvara's direction and, from what he could tell, she felt the same way. Henry IV waved his hand dismissively. Hal bowed to him and shot a glance at Alvara. Her father leaned toward her, whispering something. Her full lips thinned and shot the prince a disappointed look. The lord of Dunelap excused them and he walked away, pausing by the door when she didn't immediately follow. Alvara walked up to Hal.

"I thank you for the enjoyable outing, my prince," was all she said. It sounded stiff and formal. Hal wondered what he had done to make her angry with him. His doubt evaporated as she walked away, the back of her hand just brushing his.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Neither of the visitors was present which sent off alarms in Hal's head. Things had progressed so nicely today… what had happened? The only thing he could think of was that she was meant for John and not himself. He shot John a look, but the younger prince was oblivious. He didn't look worried or angry or really anything, which he would have if he thought Hal was usurping his territory.

Hal wandered the walkways after the meal, thinking. He had made it to where he'd met Alvara the first time. That was where he saw her now.

"Good evening… Alvara…" he approached her. She turned, glancing at him before going back to the darkened landscape.

"Good evening," her tone was wrong, dull.

"Is something amiss?" he came to stand next to her. There was a deafening pause. She finally sighed.

"Father has decided to leave on the morrow."

Hal felt his heart clench.

The lord of Dunelap was taking her away from him.

"Oh?" he fought to make himself sound normal.

"Whatever he required of the king has been dealt with and he does not wish to tarry here."

"You've only here but two days," he replied, hoping for… something.

"I know," she sighed, "I too wish that I could have stayed longer."

They stood in silence for some time. Hal was fighting with himself; should he ask her to stay? The choice was taken from him when a servant walked up, telling Alvara that her father required her. She nodded solemnly and sent him away.

"Well then," she met Hal's blue-green eyes, "Till we meet again… my prince…" the last bit wasn't ceremonial but rather affectionate.

"God give you safe travels… Vara…" he bowed slightly to her. She curtsied and offered a small smile before leaving him there. He waited until she was gone before hitting the stone in frustration.

What was happening to him?

That night was another long one. He was grateful when the sun rose. Hal walked down the stone ways with a purpose. He wasn't sure of the purpose, only that something was telling him to hurry. As he reached the courtyard, he understood what.

Alvara was leaving.

She had just mounted her stallion, looking regal and… dare he even admit it to himself… beautiful. Her eyes glanced around and fell on him. The only indication that she'd seen him was the fact that she held his gaze for a brief minute. He was about to abandon his pride for once and ask her to stay when her father gave the order to move out. She turned her horse and followed without a backwards glance. He watched her go, unable to do a thing.

He'd missed his chance.

Alvara was gone.