How have I NOT posted this yet? It's been sitting on my computer for like six months. Well, while you're waiting for the next bit of "Trapped", here's a little something to keep you interested. I haven't been in a hole this whole time, promise!
The boat rocked as it smoothly glided over the waves, each passing with a gentle shhhh. The night air was cool, the sky clear. Salt and sun combined in a certain aroma, making one feel fresh and alive.
Horace and Cassandra lie in their cabin beneath the deck, separate from the rest of the Araluen crew. They rode home after a short journey to Hibernia to discuss treaty details, and would arrive at Castle Araluen by morning.
Cassandra slept soundly in the arms of Horace, her breath deep and soft. Horace, too, was lulled by the passing waves and the rocking ship, and could drift any minute. He smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling, as he stroked the soft, short hair of his beloved. It was a wonder, he thought, how his life had begun as a lonely orphan child, and evolved into the husband of Princess Cassandra.
It was funny how life's twists and turns would plant you anywhere at any time. In Gallica, Skandia, Hibernia, or even the far-off reaches of Nihon-jan; Horace had experienced every challenge and every high life could throw at him.
Now he smiled to himself, knowing nothing could take him away at this moment. His eyelids grew heavier each time he blinked, and he opened his mouth in a silent yawn. Cassandra moved slightly in her sleep, her head on his chest. Horace tightened his soft grip around his wife. Her slight, thin frame rested against his tall, finely-built body. Her short, flowing blonde curls framing that soft face of which he came to love. His short-cropped brown hair sat nowhere near his face, defined by tiny scars and the nose broken in one place.
How opposite they ended up being, Horace thought, yet still so alike. Her smart, fiery attitude somewhat clashed with his bold, friendly way of conversation. Cassandra could see the point to most matters within a short period of time, while Horace could think of well-planned solutions if given a few minutes' thought.
Cassandra had that small, almost fox-like smile that he knew could be a smile of triumph or a smile of wit. Horace gave her the largest, lopsided grins that she would always look forward to and giggle at.
Horace could challenge nearly any man and win in face-to face battle, and handle the harshest conditions of living, weather and battle. Horace was fearless with his sword in hand and shield in other, charging into any battle with no thought of losing. Cassandra, however, weighed her options carefully, choosing either to stick someone with her cold knife blade or hide from faraway and take many a man down with her vicious sling.
Cassandra held herself with a feisty readiness and composure, and Horace held himself with a certain mixture of confidence and coolness.
The way the two grew up even foretold that they should never cross paths. In early childhood, Horace lost his parents and was sent to live in the Redmont Ward among other orphans, destined to go no further than a regular Redmont knight. Cassandra grew up as the crown Princess of Araluen, with servants waiting on her hand and foot her whole life, though she enjoyed exploring forests and refusing to wear any form of dress or skirt. The two were worlds apart, yet managed to meet each other somewhere along the journey of life.
It was so wonderfully strange, Horace thought, how different they were, yet so much alike. How each other's faults complemented the other's weaknesses. It seemed they were made for each other, like someone could put the two together and they would fit perfectly.
Rather like a puzzle.