Bedtime Story
She creeps over the dewy patches of moss, her feet silent as the darkness of the forest envelops her, the hoot of owls and the chirr of nighttime critters her only companions.
Adjusting the old bow slung over her shoulder, Princess Katherine slips deeper into the woods, finding her way along the familiar path where she always finds comfort when the narrow-mindedness of her world closes in on her, choking her, trying to drown her spirit in constraints and rituals and outdated morals.
She smells it first, the acrid stench of burning wood before she sees the flames from a bonfire dancing gaily into the midnight blue sky. A lone figure sits hunched over by the fire, huddled close to the warmth. She sneaks up closer, stepping into the meadow that is her favorite place in the whole world, this little cove by the lake.
"Who are you?" She speaks close to him, her voice loud in the silence of the forest and the man jerks up, staring at her, the feather flying from his fingertips. A gust of wind flares at that moment, grabbing hold of the papers sitting on his lap, scattering them into the grass of the meadow, the lapping surface of the lake.
He yelps and she runs after them, feeling bad for having surprised him and when they've collected them all, she hands her stack over to him sheepishly. "What is it that you do?"
He looks into her eyes and they are the bluest things she's ever seen, more startling than the sunniest summer sky, and an unfamiliar warmth rushes through her blood.
"I'm a bard," he answers, and his voice is melodious and warm. He sits back down, points to the place next to him. "I'm Richard."
"Katherine," she supplies, sinking next to him. His scent wraps around her and so she stays, and they talk quietly into the night.
She visits with him every night, meeting in the meadow where he has a fire waiting, the excitement growing in her belly with every day when she waits feverishly for nightfall. He writes her poems and the words wrap around her, lull her into worlds far away, make her dream of things she never dared to have.
One night he leans over and he kisses her. Shocked at first, her hesitation melts away when the heat of his lips sinks into her skin, when the fire of his kiss rushes through her blood like the bizarre sparks of colored lights she has once seen explode at the village festival, those they call fireworks.
The weeks blend and she forgets about the encumbrances of her life, nothing matters but her clandestine midnight meetings with Richard, his astounding words, the irresistible sparkle of his smile and every moment she gets to spend pressed against his strong, safe body.
She never wants this summer to end.
One evening she rushes into his arms, desperately falls into his embrace as he welcomes her against his chest, her cheeks tearstained, breaths hiccoughing from her chest.
"I am to marry," she sobs, feels him stop breathing for a moment.
"Who?" His voice is raspy with shock.
"Prince David Josherson, heir apparent to the throne in our neighboring kingdom." She sobs, the tears splashing from her eyes as she looks up at him. "I don't want to marry him. I just want you."
He folds his arms around her tightly, his hands running up and down her back in calming caresses. "Let me take you somewhere, Katherine, somewhere safe."
"I can't," she mumbles, the weight of the responsibilities of her life heavy on her heart.
"Yes, you can," he insists, lifting her face to him by her chin. "You could be happy Katherine. With me. I love you, Katherine. Come away with me."
And when she looks into his stark blue eyes, honest, serious, so filled with aching love, there is no longer any doubt, her heart letting the truth flow past her lips. "Yes."
He folds his hand around hers, and they start their journey.
And they lived happily ever after.
The little face peeks up from under the comforter, nose scrunched up skeptically. "There should be more confwict, daddy," she admonishes in her chirpy voice, pushing the hair off her forehead with her small pudgy hand, a gesture so much like her mother that his heart leaps.
Kate giggles in the doorway and he shoots her a glance, his eyes silently saying 'I'll get you later for this', and her raised eyebrow needs no interpretation as it challenges 'bring it.'
Castle turns back to their daughter. "Next time, baby, I promise, more conflict. For now you need to sleep." He kisses her on the forehead, her skin sweet and sleep-warm, folding the comforter around her shoulders, and the girl's eyelids close obediently.
They turn off the lights and walk out the room, hands folded into each other. She squeezes his palm, presses a lingering kiss to scruffy jaw. "I love you too, Castle."