Patrolling with Dragon is such a blessed relief these days. It always helps to clear her mind. Unfortunately, though, it also always has to end.
Far, far too soon.
Her heart sinks in tandem with their descent as they approach the castle… then absolutely plummets when she sees who is waiting for her in the courtyard.
Oh, no… no… not now!
Of course, it's not as if there's ever a time when her response is, Oh yes! Just the person I wanted to see! Her reaction is always unequivocally negative. Is that fair to him? Probably not. Does she care?
Not even the least little bit.
He's standing in the courtyard, shading his azure eyes with one hand, his golden-brown hair blowing in the wind as he watches her and Dragon come in for their landing. Looking every inch the aristocrat; the highborn, noble suitor.
UGH! She shudders at the very thought. It's the last thing she ever wanted at this stage in her life. A suitor! Honestly! The absurdity. For God's sake, she'd rather have Gunther.
Wait… what!?
Where the hell had that come from?
She gives her head a short but rather violent shake, dispelling the sudden, troubling thought; banishing it.
Well… trying to, anyway.
But God, she's just lost her footing… lost it completely and can't seem to find it again except, ironically enough, for when she's not on her feet at all – but rather on Dragon's back, soaring above the clouds.
It's almost enough to make her want to ask him, on one of these routine patrols, to just… keep going.
There had been other occasions over the years when she'd daydreamed about flying off on Dragon to seek adventure, usually when something or other was bothering or annoying her. (Well, "something or other" was, more often than not, named Gunther.) There had even been that one memorable incident – still blush-worthy after all this time – when she'd told everyone that she and Dragon were leaving, that they'd been offered a position at a distant court. The court of King Barrowclaw no less! Small wonder, she thinks with a snort, that Jester had instantly seen through her false bravado.
Barrowclaw, if you please. Honestly.
Her friends (other than Jester, who she sometimes thinks is too clever by half) had been heartbroken by the idea of her impending "departure" – and in the end Lavinia had forbidden it – thank God, since it had all been a bluff anyway. Only Gunther had seemed unmoved… but they'd been younger then, their relationship wholly defined by their rivalry, each constantly striving to outdo the other.
The rivalry is still there, of course, but softened and tempered over time to more of a friendly competitiveness. He's been a major part of her world for so long that at this point she really can't imagine life without him. But what of him? He hadn't seemed to mind the idea of her vanishing from his life at all back then… would he mind now?
UGH! She shakes her head again, even more forcefully. What does she care if he'd mind!? This isn't about Gunther bog-weevil Breech. Why does he keep creeping into her thoughts this way? He's such a damn sneak sometimes! She hadn't been ruminating on Gunther, but on the idea of leaving, of just asking Dragon to let the wind take them where it would, as she'd almost done all those years ago.
She hadn't really wanted to leave then; it had all been a show spurred on by hurt feelings. Now, though…
Now…
No, she doesn't want to leave now either. Not in her heart of hearts. She would never willingly leave the home she loves, the people she loves. What she truly wants is for these outsiders to leave, and for things to go back to the way they are supposed to be. Ordinary. Predictable. Sane.
Hang all foreign kings, real and imaginary. And hang their maggoty courts as well!
And especially hang their stupid, strutting, peacock-preening, rosebush-bearing, honey-tongued, young nobles in search of a wife!
The young noble in question strides over as Dragon lands, extending a hand to help Jane down, which she pointedly disregards (She's been doing this for nearly half her lifetime and now suddenly she needs a man's assistance!? Not bloody likely.) The only concession she makes is a small, tight-lipped smile and a single curt nod, before she turns away to bid Dragon farewell for the nonce.
Unfortunately, when she turns back, he's still there.
Hellfire! Cannot the man take a damn hint!
She tries to simply walk around him, but he moves smoothly to intercept her, even – oh, dear Lord – offering her his arm!
She'd prefer to just ignore him, but some sort of response is called for. "Thank you," she says stiffly, "but I am perfectly capable of walking upright on my own."
He graces her with a wide, beatific smile, as if she's just paid him a compliment or some such, which throws her even more off-kilter than she was already.
"I never doubted that for a second, gentle lady," he says. "If you would condescend to take my arm, the honor would be all mine, I assure you."
Great, now what? She wants to kick something. He is not going to give up. She decides, reluctantly, that the best tactic is simply to get this over with; let him walk her across the courtyard and hopefully he'll be satisfied and leave her alone for the rest of the day. With a remarkably un-subtle eye-roll that would doubtless make her mother want to smack her, she accepts the proffered arm.
However, she subsequently declines every other petition that is made, such as;
Would she like to stroll through the gardens?
No.
Would she like to sit by the fountain?
No.
Would she care to show him the village?
No.
Could she take him to the top of the tower, where he saw her standing yesterday with the wind in her hair? – (And yes, by God, he actually says "with the wind in your hair") – He'd dearly love to see the view from up there.
No and no and no and NO. Severely exasperated, she's about to tell him what he can do with the wind in his hair – and then stops short, because she sees Gunther.
Or to be exact, she sees the moment Gunther sees her.
He's been back from patrol for several days now, but they haven't really had a proper conversation. He'd clearly been exhausted upon his return; baked to a deeper tan than she'd ever seen him before, and with still darker circles under his eyes, which seemed to suggest that he hadn't been sleeping well. It must have been some kind of hellish ordeal and she'd wanted to ask him about it, but other than welcoming him briefly back, she'd given him his space that first day because he'd so clearly been just... knocked out.
And in the time since, as the castle had gone mad preparing for the visit of the neighboring king and his retinue, and then with their actual arrival, there just hasn't really been an opportunity. Well actually, it's more than that; Gunther hasn't given her an opportunity. The men who had been out on patrol had learned about the impending visit upon their return and ever since then, it's seemed like he's been... well, avoiding her. Strenuously.
There have been a few brief exchanges of words when she's caught him in a situation he can't easily bolt from; at mealtimes, for instance, when he's already ensconced at the table. But otherwise, he hasn't seemed to be anywhere... and on the occasions that she does catch sight of him around the castle grounds, he isn't looking at her. His attention is always on something else; something he's doing, or someone he's talking to. Or he's right in the act of turning away, or walking away, or – she remembers the incident in the garden, with the mysterious book (although that was even before the patrol) – running away!?
And certainly they've both been kept quite busy in all the hubbub surrounding the royal visit, but still, it feels almost... deliberate... although she can't imagine why. It's just one more complication in her life, one among a host, a great clamoring multitude against which she has no hope, really, of standing her ground. Gunther hasn't had the time of day for her since he got back from patrol...
But oh, he is looking at her now.
There is one moment, brief yet endless, before he gets his guard up; and what she sees in his face, in his eyes – her breath catches, stomach flips, heart twists. Because his eyes... they're blazing. There is a fierce intensity to his gaze that she has no idea how to respond to; she has no frame of reference for this, has never seen anything even remotely like it before. She hasn't a clue what it means (or that's what she tells herself, at any rate) but there's one thing she knows on a deep, fundamental level – a level that goes beyond intellect and delves right into the instinctual.
She does not want her arm linked through Algernon's any longer.
She'd never wanted it in the first place, of course, but now... now it is completely intolerable.
"Please excuse me," she says, turning to face her unwanted suitor as she disengages; "I just remembered I need to speak with Squire Gunther about... training." By the time she frees herself and turns back to Gunther, though, he's slammed his defenses into place, and true to nature, they are perfect; impenetrable.
His face is a smooth, blank mask; his eyes no longer registering her at all. He's gazing off into the middle-distance somewhere, looking utterly untroubled and for all the world as though he doesn't even know she's there. She starts toward him – but the second she does, still without looking directly at her, he turns on his heel and walks away, quickly rounding a corner and disappearing from view.
"Gunther!" she calls, but she doesn't break into a run; that would be extremely undignified, with Algernon still watching her. And so, of course, when she reaches the corner and rounds it herself, there's no sign of him.
UGH!
What the hell is going on with him! What the hell is going on, period!?
She turns her steps toward her tower room, suddenly wondering if maybe it's not too late to call Dragon back after all, and beg him to carry her far away from this mayhem that has completely engulfed her life. Had she really just decided a little while ago that there was no way she'd actually do it? Well damn it, she is this close to changing her mind about that.
Especially once she actually reaches her room and remembers, with a jolt, that she can barely even force the door open anymore! Far from a place of refuge, it's become every bit as chaotic as the rest of her life. She whirls and races to the top of the tower instead, after making sure that Algernon is nowhere in sight. She supposes that if he's truly motivated he'll figure out how to get up here sooner or later, but she fervently hopes it's later because she does NOT want company right now.
She throws herself down, spread-eagled on her back, and stares up at the cloud-shot sky.
Just fly away... She's honestly never been so tempted before.
Just fly away...
A/N: Guess what episode I just rewatched! ;)
Oh, quick request - I'm writing something that involves the end of the second ball. If others want to write about the ball please feel free but can I ask for the privilege of writing the ending of the night?