A/N: This was inspired by the lovely and amazing picture on Tumblr of Rick and Michonne as a prince and princess. This is a fairy tale AU and primarily takes place in a medieval-type setting, however, I have borrowed from other eras/time periods for vocabulary, occupations, royal titles, land ownership, inheritance, more. Richonne and many others, including original characters. Please enjoy.


Chapter 1 – For Crown and Kingdom

Castle Hearts Aflame – Kingdom of Atlantica

Private Chambers of Princess Michonne

Her Majesty, Queen Amara, reigned over all she could see, which in the broadest sense included the entirety of Atlantica, but at the moment meant Hearts Aflame Castle and all those within it, and specifically her daughter, The Princess Michonne, as Amara stood in the latter's dressing room, locked in a battle of wills and working hard not to lose her patience. It wouldn't do to yell at a princess, even if she was your very own child. The unexpected arrival of the queen had brought the pre-dinner tea amusements of conversation, music and singing to an abrupt and awkward standstill. Her maids waited off to the side, huddled together with their heads bowed, desperate for invisibility amid the tension. Michonne's ladies in waiting, Lady Margaret, Lady Andrea and Lady Rosita all stared down at their laps, focused on needlepoint which had been practically discarded just moments before. The young Lady Elizabeth, finally of age to garner her first invitation to one of the tea parties, sat on the edge of her chair, watching with wide eyes as she clutched her lute. She'd stopped playing immediately and now was unsure if she should stay or go. In the queen's presence, she couldn't leave without explicit permission or until she was dismissed and neither had been granted. She glanced over at her sister and took comfort when Maggie, without looking up, shook her head slightly, telling her to stay put.

The princess herself stood on a raised platform in front of a semi-circle of full length mirrors, unprepared for guests. She was waiting to be dressed, clad only in an ivory linen chemise and her locs loose about her shoulders, the rich brown of her skin glowing in the light from the oil lamps. By contrast, Amara was perfectly put together, having come from taking afternoon tea with her husband, King Andreas. She'd left their daily assignation unsettled, and the concern had propelled her straight to Michonne's rooms. Amara's off-shoulder burgundy gown was accented with lace trim and a double-wrap gold medallion belt that matched her jewelry and highlighted the deep russet of her skin. Her locs, thinner and longer than Michonne's, were dyed at the ends with madder root to match the dark red of her dress and plaited into four-strand twists and swept up into a large petal bun. Approaching middle age, her beauty was still vibrant and stunning. She had been born late in life to her parents after many years where everyone feared there would be no heir. Amara Hope was beloved by the kingdom, first as their darling princess and now as their shrewd and compassionate queen. That love and adoration had expanded to include Michonne, who favored her mother in looks, temperament and intellect. Amara saw much of herself in Michonne but that empathy did not relieve any of them of responsibilities and expectations. In a self-indulgent attempt of defiance, Michonne kept her back to her mother, but maintained eye contact in one of the mirrors. The silence grew heavier and more strained as Queen and Princess, mother and daughter, stared at each other.

"This is your duty," Amara relented, speaking first. Her calm expression and level tone did not betray her worry.

"To marry this outsider? Some man I know nothing of? That I don't love? What does he like for breakfast? What activities does he enjoy in his idle time? How does he treat his mother? I have questions."

Amara suppressed a smile. "These are things you will get to know. The alliance with Alexandria is more crucial than ever. With their kingdom on the other side of The Sanctuary, this union will allow us to stand strong against any threat from The Sanctuary. You are key to that. To ensure strength and protection for generations to come."

"Generations that may never exist because I do not want to marry some desperate second-son prince willing to bargain his heart and soul for a kingdom of his own."

Amara kissed her teeth at her daughter's words. "Your father was a second son. He had no lands of his own when he was affianced to me. And he was no less a prince, no less a man, no less worthy to be crowned king at our coronation. Look how well we have ruled this kingdom together, how prosperous we have been, the love we share."

Michonne's shoulders slumped and she hung her head in shame. "I beg your pardon," she apologized.

"It is your duty," Amara repeated. "As it was mine. To marry the man your parents have chosen for you."

Michonne turned to face her mother, her eyes bright and hands out, pleading. She stepped off the dais and in front of her mother. "But you had a chance to get to know Papa before you exchanged vows, a year of courtship and the time to fall in love. He has told me stories of the long walks in the gardens, riding horses along the lowlands, the picnics on the white sands of the eastern isles. The ballads his bard wrote for you and the love letters you penned for him."

Amara gritted her teeth against the pang in her heart at the memories of her and Andreas' engagement. The fanciful stories were true, but not helpful in their expectations for Michonne.

"I was supposed to have more time," Michonne stated. "I still don't understand why the date was moved up. The agreement was for the wedding to take place four years from now."

Amara dropped her eyes for a moment before looking back at her daughter. "Michonne, you are one and twenty, how much longer should we wait? Things have changed and your father and I won't be here forevermore. As it is, the prince will be here on the morrow and we still have a fortnight before the ceremony. That is plenty of time to get to know him. More time than most have."

Lady Carol, the royal governess, although all but one of her charges was now of marriageable age, decided to intervene. After being released from service from her prior township years ago, she'd traveled to Atlantica in possession of a high recommendation and advanced healing skills. Skills that were initially self-taught and then refined and expanded under the tutelage of Lord Hershel, the royal physician. She'd been welcomed and valued at Hearts Aflame, so much so that the monarchs had kept her on after Hershel's untimely death. They established her as the governess after they installed a new physician in the castle. Carol adored Michonne and her ladies. And the youngest, Beth, who had reached the age to begin her training. They all filled her heart and days with love and exasperation, much as she would have expected her own Sophia would have done had she survived the fever.

"Your Royal Majesty," Lady Carol addressed the queen, curtsying deeply. She turned to Michonne and bowed her head. "Your Highness. Perchance if we just take the time to see the other's point of view. Princess, you are precious to your parents and most loved yet there are expectations. You are the only child and heir. You will meet the prince. If he is an abuser,"—Carol swallowed hard on this word and unwittingly thought of Sir Edward, even long dead the man still haunted her— "if he is an abuser or a trickster, the negotiations will be void.

"Madam, you have raised our princess to speak her mind and know her worth, so it is not surprising that she would not be content with the changes to the arrangement. However, the princess understands her duty. But mayhap, we can find common ground in this matter. She needs the latitude to get know the young prince before the wedding, away from the prying eyes of parents, and on her behalf, I beg that such time and space be granted."

Amara watched her daughter as she reflected on Carol's words. She nodded once to the governess, granting her request. Michonne released a deep breath, but it did little to ease the tightness in her chest. She appreciated the concession but it wasn't enough. She had hoped in the remaining years before the wedding date, a worthwhile suitor would come forth, someone from Atlantica that she loved and that loved her back, would be enough to have her parents void the contract. She'd thought she'd found that.

"On the morrow, Michonne. At the end of the luncheon hour. Your presence is expected in the throne room to greet our guests from Alexandria."

"Yes Momma," she complied. "But perchance, I could meet the prince privately, and have some time to get to know him. To be at ease and comfortable, like Lady Carol suggested."

Amara narrowed her eyes at her daughter as she considered. She felt there was something beneath Michonne's request, but nothing she could put her finger on. "You will receive our guests in the solarium. Lady Carol will chaperone," she decided.

Michonne nodded.

"Your father and I look forward to your presence at dinner this eve. As you know, we still have other visitors in attendance."

Michonne smiled. "Of course."

Amara returned her smile and glanced around the room. No one was looking at them; their eyes cast downward or off to the side. She turned back at Michonne, her proud and magnificent daughter. Amara recalled a similar conversation with her own mother more than a score of years earlier. Her own young heart had been devastated at an arranged marriage, but it had turned out to be the love of a lifetime. She'd hoped the same for her daughter, a passionate love that knew no boundaries. That Michonne and her prince would get to know one another, become smitten and be madly in love on their wedding day. But circumstances had changed, and to protect the welfare of their kingdom, modifications were necessary. Either way, there was nothing to be done for it. Their loyalty was first to the crown and kingdom.

Amara reached out and touched two fingers to Michonne's cheek and her bangles clinked with the movement. "You are my labor of love," she whispered before taking her leave, her attendants following closely. Lady Carol curtsied again and also left.

There was a short pause in the wake of Amara's departure before everyone continued their prior activity with a start, as if they been caged and then set free. The maids scampered about, readying the items needed to dress the princess for dinner. Maggie and Andrea set down their stitching and returned to where they had been before. Rosita pulled out the vellum she'd stashed under her chair to finish Michonne's letter to Sir Michael. Beth started playing her lute again, plucking the strings in a lively tune and singing about a stubborn maiden in love with a brave knight. Michonne sat down at her dressing table, her head in her hands.

"The coral or the lilac?" Andrea called out, as two maids held up the dresses, both front lacing with empire waists and decorated with pearls and crystals. Glancing over at the dresses, Michonne remembered the kiss from Sir Michael on the last night of the Midsummer Festival. She had worn the coral gown and during a visit to the magician's tent, he'd snuck her out through the back. In the ninety seconds it took for her guard to find her, he had pressed his warm lips to hers and professed his love. It had been the most singular moment of her life, her very first kiss. She touched her bottom lip in memory.

"The lilac," Maggie responded, without looking up from perusing hair accessories. She selected a matching head wrap and several multi-colored beads that would be put on before Michonne's hair was pinned up.

Michonne silently agreed. The memories invoked by the coral were bittersweet. She sat patiently as two maids used oil pressed from coconuts to moisturize and retighten her locs before styling her hair. The music stopped. She drummed her fingers on the mahogany top as she listened with half an ear to the gossip and chatter. She'd exhausted all reasons, excuses and justifications to her parents for why the marriage should not take place. The realization that there would be no way out settled deep within her, heavy and troublesome. As soon as her hair was finished, she rose to her feet.

"Everyone leave us," she directed. The maids were swift to obey and hurried out after quick curtsies. Michonne looked over at Maggie's little sister, who had stopped playing to listen to all the gossip. "You too Beth," she prompted gently.

Beth blushed and nodded, gathering her items and giving a dip as she left the room.

Michonne faced her closest friends and confidants. Maggie, Andrea and Rosita had been her companions for most of their lives and now served as her ladies in waiting. Maggie had been with her the longest, from young childhood when she and her father, Hershel, had come to Hearts Aflame years ago. Andrea's father served as the king's top advisor on the great council and Andrea's mother assisted the queen in a similar manner. Rosita's father was the top general of the Castle Guard and oversaw all the details for protection and safety of the royal family. Rosita's mother was disappeared. Two years ago, she'd left to visit her hometown and had never arrived or returned. There'd been no trace of her since. Her mother's disappearance had left Rosita different than before, bitter and sullen. This was expected and Michonne gave Rosita grace while she grieved, but knew her patience was coming to an end with some of Rosita's antics.

"This won't do," Michonne stated.

Maggie looked confused. "The lilac? You haven't worn it in ages and we all know what happened the last time you wore the other."

"No, no, the dress is fine. What won't do is this marriage. Specifically me, marrying without knowing my intended. And more than just his hair color and how he takes his tea. Does he truly believe in love? Does he believe we can rule side by side or will he expect me to waste my days up in one of the towers while he gets fat on power and control?"

"You can just ask him," Andrea suggested.

"So he can wax eloquent to ensure he secures himself a kingdom? No, I need a way to really know him, see into the heart of him, determine if he is worthy. Of me. Of Atlantica. I just don't know how." Michonne stopped pacing.

"I need fresh air," she announced, stepping out of her chemise and into one of her exercise gowns. They had been custom made for her after Lady Carol discovered her with her guard, practicing hand to hand combat and learning how to use a sword. The thin frock fitted close to Michonne's upper body and flared out slightly at the waist. It ended mid-calf with sturdy stockings of the same color sewn in, guaranteeing the princess was the essence of propriety and modesty even sweating and wielding a sword. Similar ones had been made for her ladies.

"We've an hour until we're expected for dinner," Maggie warned, knowing how Michonne lost track of time during her exercise routines.

Michonne nodded and finished lacing her ankle boots. She walked over to the tapestry of Hearts Aflame at sunset and reached behind it to open the panel that led to her private gardens. There was a main entrance to the gardens on the other side of her chambers, but Michonne preferred the convenience and secrecy of the tunnel. She also enjoyed trying to catch her guard, off-guard. The passageway was tight, enough room for them to walk single-file, and dark, but the lack of light presented no hindrance due to their frequent use. After pulling open the stone colored pocket door, they emerged from the tunnel, squeezing past a large statue and blinking as their eyes adjusted to the sunlight. Lord Abraham and two others from Michonne's guard were waiting for them when they exited. Michonne grinned when she met Abe's eyes. The brawny redheaded man chuckled and winked at her. She had ceased years ago trying to figure out how he always managed to know where she was headed and to be there before her. That had made the moment between her and Mike so exceptional; that he'd been able to steal her away from under the alert eye of her guard. Long enough for a tender kiss and a declaration of love.

Lord Abraham, Baron of Ford, served as the head of the Princess Guard. After years of faithful service, leadership and bravery in battle and while protecting Michonne, King Andreas had granted him land less than a half-day's ride to the southwest. Once the princess was married and his successor in place, Abe would take up residence at the large manor that served as the seat of his township. He had been looking forward to this for the past four years, but as the time loomed closer, he was realizing how difficult it would be to leave the princess and to entrust her safety to another. He walked over to the princess and bowed. He greeted her ladies.

Outside, Michonne relaxed. The late afternoon sun warmed away the chill from the tunnel and the light breeze warned that autumn wasn't far off. This place was precious to her. The landscaping had been designed by Amara while she was pregnant with Michonne and during the years until Michonne was of age to move to her own chambers, the gardeners kept it up, planting, pruning and cultivating, making sure it would be perfect for her. She loved it all, the peach trees, the flowering shrubs and blossoms, the reading bench under the weeping willow, the topiaries of wild cats, but most especially, the large fountain where ceramic kittens frolicked around and in the cool water.

"Up for sparring, Princess?" Abe asked.

"I thought so, but not today," she replied. "I'm going to sit and enjoy the quiet."

Abe nodded and continued his patrol. There was no access to the garden from the outside, the stone walls over twelve feet high and with spires along the top. Still, her guard walked the perimeter to ensure it remained secure.

Michonne and her ladies sat at the fountain.

"I need more time," Michonne stated.

"There is none," Rosita said, trailing her fingers in the water.

"Yes, I know."

"What if you fell in love with Lord Philip?" Andrea proposed, referring to the newcomer from a nation far to the west. Michonne repressed a shudder at the thought of the man. There was something off about him, something wrong in such an unusual way; she avoided him as often as possible. He had arrived at their kingdom four months ago and seemed content to stay. She wished her parents would send him on his way, but he'd done nothing untoward and was becoming a close comrade of her father's.

"That will never happen."

"Well, if you're not interested, I think he'd make a wonderful match. My mother has said the same many times."

"No, not at all. You should want to know more about him. No one has even heard of Woodbury, the township he's from. Every time someone asks him about his home kingdom, he evades the question; he never gives a straightforward answer."

Andrea shrugged. "Does it even matter?"

"Maybe you could get King Ezekiel to fall in love with you," Rosita suggested.

"The mad king?" Michonne smiled. She was fond of Ezekiel but not in that way. He'd earned the nickname for his old-fashioned speech and eccentric ways he ruled his kingdom. It didn't have a name, he simply called it The Kingdom but he had renamed his castle to honor the tiger who was his constant companion. He and Shiva had arrived yesterday. Ezekiel's kingdom bordered theirs to the west and both kingdoms benefitted from a long-standing relationship including the exchange of trade and commerce. "Lady Carol holds in him high regard, I do believe she fancies him."

"Could you imagine?" Andrea asked. "That is the most romantic of love stories. To be plucked from working class and elevated up to a queen. She'd have her very own kingdom. They could regale their grandchildren with the tale."

"I'm certain they're too old for children of their own," Rosita said.

"You think so?" Maggie asked. "Well, he does care for all those orphans. Keeps them right there in his castle. They could parent them together and live happily ever after."

"That's what I want," Michonne said. "A love for the ages. I want to be someone's everything, their whole heart, what they always wanted and hoped for. Who they dream of at night and during waking hours." She picked up a flower head floating off the water's surface. "I thought I had that."

Maggie studied Michonne. "You know your parents would never agree to a marriage between you and Sir Michael. He is a knight but has yet to garner any lands or earn any titles. A knight of his age should have one or the other by now. He's foolhardy and too content to let others take care of him."

Michonne bit the inside of her cheek and looked away. Maggie's words were true but she was still heart sore. Not so much at her parents' rejection of his petition to court her, but that he'd drank himself into a stupor and then left the very next morning, without a word. She'd thought they were in love, that they meant the world to one another. She thought she would have run away with him. But he had been unwilling to fight for her, for the love he swore to possess for her. Maybe she was the foolish one. She blinked away tears when Maggie grabbed her hand.

Abe walked back by while Maggie was speaking. He agreed with her assessment of the fellow. Mike had caused him naught but trouble and worry, from his lack of focus during training to his lack of courage during a skirmish against invaders along the southern beaches. Abe wondered how long Mike would stay away. First things first, the wayward knight would lose his title and be relegated back down to squire when he returned.

"All that man wanted was hanky-panky. Not on my watch," Abe said. He looked at Michonne. "Your father would have me by my red curlies if I'd let that fox feast in the henhouse. The core of man can't change any more than Shiva can change her stripes. I've got my eyes wide open in case he tries to sneak back here in disguise."

They all giggled at his words, but his comment sparked an idea in Michonne. "I think I have a way," she said to Maggie.

Maggie recognized the mischievous gleam in Michonne's eyes. She hesitated to ask, but couldn't resist. "A way for what?"

"A way for you to help me get to know the real prince; expose who he is behind the royal façade."

"Do tell," Maggie said.

"I need you to be me. Just for a day or two."


Above the Violet Valley, within the Lands of Atlantica

Temporary Camp of His Royal Highness, Prince Richard, Duke of Grimes

For the past three weeks, the prince's royal entourage had traveled south from Rising Moon Castle in the Kingdom of Alexandria to Hearts Aflame, an excursion that had taken a sennight longer than usual due to a detour around The Sanctuary Kingdom lands. Prior to the crowning of the current king, generations of Alexandrians had been permitted access through The Sanctuary when journeying to the south. With King Negan now seated on the throne, the relations between The Sanctuary and its bordering nations were on the verge of collapse. No one had yet to meet the new king but word spread that he was aggressive and antagonistic. The dissolution and repeal of all treaties supported that theory and the last thing Alexandria wanted was to start an all-out war over trespassing.

The group had crossed into Atlantica lands two days prior and set up camp early on the rise before the valley that lead up to Hearts Aflame. This current assembly was without their own king and queen, who had been unable to leave with the prince as planned on account of Queen Eloise suffering from an unexpected malady. As relayed by the royal messengers moving swiftly between the two traveling parties, His and Her Majesty had followed as soon as her health improved and were less than a fortnight behind. They assured the prince on the delivery of each new missive that they would arrive in time for his nuptials. Rick had ignored these post scripts from his mother as thoughts of the imminent wedding conflicted with his fantasy that he was just on holiday. After fishing, marksmanship, hunting and a days-on end competition of backgammon with his cousin, the future was inevitable. From his perch on a large, flat boulder, it loomed at him from across the valley. He counted the turrets and towers and even from his location, Hearts Aflame was an impressive structure of pale granite and white speckled stone. Aside from the colors, it reminded him of Rising Moon.

He tilted his head at the sound of his cousin stomping through the woods toward him. One of their castle's best hunters, she could be fleet-footed when she desired, but she wanted to let his guard know she was approaching. And with that, Lady Sasha burst into the clearing, holding up three fat and, what were likely once, happy hares. She tossed them off to the side for the cook before approaching Rick.

"You wouldn't be so brave to wear that were my mother here," he greeted her.

"Your Royal Highness," she said, curtsying low.

Rick grinned and considered telling her yet again how ridiculous she looked doing that while wearing trousers and a long woolen shirt. She'd raided the garment chests soon after their departure and he'd wondered which poor squire was without his leisure wear. None would speak up, not wanting to engage her in a quarrel they would surely lose. Not even her lady's maid, although the woman was near apoplectic at Sasha's choice of attire but Sasha refused to be convinced to change her clothing. It'd only taken a few days for his men to get used to her wearing such, although Sir Robert often stared too long. Rick surmised he would have to have a word with him.

"Well, it's a good thing she's not with us because I've decided traveling in dresses is cumbersome and unnecessary. It's less cleaning for Lettie and all my gowns will be in perfect condition for when we arrive. Besides, it's easier to hunt. We're fortunate Atlantica has given us permission to hunt on their lands."

"Why would they not? I've come to marry their princess."

Sasha sat down next to him, bumping into him and forcing him to move over to make room for her.

He grunted and shifted to the side. "I'm not sure why you even bother," he referred to her teasing behavior of touching his person greeting him so formally.

"Perchance I'm practicing. It's been a long time since I've been presented at another court. Or I'm keeping you humble and ensuring your head doesn't grow any bigger."

"What's to make this head grow? Here I am on my way to marry a princess I know nothing about. She could be a shrew or cruel in spirit. What if she doesn't enjoy nature or horses? What if she is full of spite and seeks to make all those around her miserable? There are none that would trade places with me for this fate."

"Mayhap not. I've heard she's beautiful."

"Plenty have beauty that goes no deeper than the skin."

Sasha remained silent, having no words of wisdom for Rick. She sympathized with him as her own heart chafed. She peeked over at Sir Robert, talking with Lord Glenn about guard schedules. He met her eyes and gave her a broad smile before continuing his conversation. She fancied him but her aunt, Queen Eloise, had assured her that in no uncertain terms would such a match be entertained. Like so many other royals, Sasha's husband would be selected by the king and queen. With her connection to the royal family, Sasha's marriage would serve to benefit their sovereign nation. Her arguments and angry tears had been ignored; Eloise hadn't budged.

"Sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants but duty dictates otherwise. And we are nothing if not captives to duty," Sasha said.

Rick noticed her covert glances to the other side.

"He's not for you," Rick said softly. "It would never do. Besides, he's too fond of his drink."

"Everyone keeps telling me it won't do. But I keep thinking of my heart. He could be what my heart needs."

"Our hearts do not belong to us. I, for one, have promised mine to another. And look at me here. Even now, Lady Jessica awaits my return."

Sasha made an unladylike sound. Rick ignored her. He already knew how she felt about the widow.

"Lady Jessica," she scoffed. "That woman couldn't find her way out a burlap sack open at one end."

"You should be kind. Her temperament is that of a flower, fragile and beautiful. She was devastated by the loss of her husband and is coming out on the other side of that."

"You should be wise. She is weak and manipulative, a dangerous combination. You have a head full of big rocks if you think she would be fit to be the wife of a king."

"I am only a prince; I have no kingdom."

"One day you will."

"But as second son, only when I marry this princess who is the heir to her father's throne." He gestured toward Hearts Aflame. "If I could just make you all see Jessie as I do."

"What's to see? You're too close and you've let your heart become entangled. You knew it wasn't available to give. You are here to marry this princess. This is not going to end well." Sasha brushed a ladybug off her leg. She sat as if she were wearing a dress, legs together and crossed at the ankles. "You always seek out and pine for the damsels in distress, the ones that need saving. You need someone that could save you too."

"That's what I have you for," Rick chuckled. The thought of a woman that would match him in personality, skills and wit was intimidating. All his life he'd worked hard to be just as good as his older brother, Jeffrey. He'd grown up having to accept the fact that he had missed inheriting Alexandria by eight minutes. He didn't want to have to compete with a wife as well.

"No Richard, I will not marry you," Sasha teased. "You are already spoken for."

"I don't want to marry you either. I made Jessie a promise. I cannot break it."

"Your loyalties lie first to Alexandria; with your mother and father and what they promised on your behalf. Alexandria needs a solid alliance to stand strong against The Sanctuary. The Saviors are getting more and more bold with each passing year. I've heard troublesome rumors about their new king. That he has peculiar tastes and enjoys others' pain."

Rick shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't worried about The Sanctuary's king. No one had ever even seen him. King Negan would keep to his lands and they would keep to theirs. And if he didn't, the knights at Alexandria would dispatch of him easily.

"Jessie doesn't care to be queen."

"Because she can't be a queen if you aren't a king. And you can't be king unless you marry this princess which then would make it impossible for you to marry anyone else. Jessie would content being a princess. It would be so much more than the life she had with the physician, Sir Peter. His death left her near destitute with two babes to feed. Being a princess would guarantee fancy dresses, tables overflowing with food and nannies to care for her children. And none of the responsibilities of governing a kingdom."

Rick didn't reply. He'd worried about this, wondered at the true motivations of Jessie's love for him, particularly when she pressured him to elope with her and not wait for his parents' approval. Whenever he'd brought it up, she had assured him all she wanted was his heart. Rick sighed and scratched at his new beard. His manservant kept it closely trimmed and in good order on his cheeks and jaw. He'd started growing it out before they left, much to Jessie's displeasure. He had decided to keep it, somewhat hoping Princess Michonne would dislike it as well.

The sounds of birds calling to one another echoed throughout the valley and filled the quiet between Rick and Sasha. They remained still, sitting side by side and enjoying the approaching dusk. The valley was aptly named, with blossoms and flowers in varying shades of purple covering the basin and sides. They watched as the sun fell to the horizon, the angle of its rays illuminating the castle in a remarkable display of gold, auburn and fire. They sat in awed silence of the beauty before them, the name of the castle evident in how it glowed so brightly at the close of the day.

"I don't know if I can do it," Rick confessed. "Not even for this. For ten thousand sunsets like this."

As darkness stretched over the land, Rick and Sasha made their way back to the camp, followed closely by their guard. Lord Glenn, Earl of Rhee, and his young squire, Noah, met them outside of Rick's tent. Glenn was Rick's closest friend and a former knight in his father's guard. He was now lord of his township but at King Henry's request, had taken up his sword and armor to provide additional defense and companionship for the prince on this excursion.

"If we leave at first light," Glenn was saying, "we'll be there with plenty of time to rest and refresh before luncheon. The messenger has returned and His and Her Majesty eagerly await our arrival."

Rick nodded and they finalized the traveling plans for daybreak. Noah glared at Sasha. It was his garments that she wore. She gave him a knowing smile, daring him to speak. Sasha threw her head back and laughed, tickled at his predicament. She already planned to pay him handsomely for the use of this clothing once they arrived at the castle, but wanted to see if he would speak up. Noah's scowl deepened and he stalked off to the tent he shared with Glenn's other squires.

There was backgammon and knucklebones by torchlight before a hearty dinner of roasted hare stew, cabbage and apples. Rick returned to his tent and settled on the over-sized pillows on his sleeping pallet. He drifted to sleep quickly and dreamed of dancing with Jessie at a ball to celebrate their wedding. The longer they danced, the blurrier and dimmer she became until she was someone else entirely. Someone different, new. Someone that made his heart quicken and his mouth dry. This new woman brought a wide smile to his face and joy to the very center of his being. He loved her; fully, unequivocally, relentlessly. He needed to know everything about her. His heart expanded with delight but he was frustrated that he couldn't see her face. It was completely covered by a full-face veil. The music stopped and he attempted to lift the veil to kiss her, his lady love, but she stepped out of his embrace and ran from him. He chased after her but she was too fast, slipping around endless corners and turns and staying just beyond his reach. He followed her out of the castle and into the cold evening air. He couldn't find her, she was gone. He stopped running and out of breath, fell to his knees, devastated.

Rick woke with a start. His chest heaved as he struggled for air and he rubbed his chest, trying to ease the deep ache there. He felt morose and agitated. He remembered his tears in the dream when he'd lost her and blushed with embarrassment at the thought of acting such a way over a woman. The woman in his dreams made him vulnerable and weak. Not at all the like the strong king he always envisioned he would be. This was not a good sign of what was to come.

"Go bring Lord Glenn to me," he told his manservant, who had woken when Rick sat up.

Rick pulled on his dressing gown to wait for Glenn. When Glenn arrived, clothes haphazard and hair disheveled from his rush to obey the summons, Rick began speaking immediately. He shared his concerns and worries over his betrothal. When Rick stopped pacing, Glenn placed his hand on Rick's shoulder.

"What do you need?" Glenn asked.

"I need you to be me," Rick told him. "Get to know the princess and tell me of her personality and character."

Glenn frowned, uncomfortable with request. He was loyal and proud to serve his monarch and kingdom, but he worried of the repercussions from such trickery.

"Just for a day, maybe two," Rick rushed to say. "So I can make a wise decision and know if I need to get out of this. Marriage is a covenant; a binding contract for life. There should be mutual love and respect. What if I marry this princess without knowing her and I get neither. Surely that cannot be how I'm meant to spend the remainder of my days."

Glenn considered Rick's words. He cleared his throat. "Two days, my prince. I'll give you two days. For our crown and kingdom. And your heart."

Rick nodded as Glenn bowed and departed. He walked aimlessly around his tent, still feeling restless. He lay back down but was not able to fall asleep until the first rays of the sun breached the camp.