Charles did come to stay more and more often for the next few years; less and less of his time was spent on matters of diplomacy, however. More often he could be found in the company of the princess, offering her both instruction and friendship. The more they shared one another's company, the closer they grew, until scarcely a waking moment passed which saw them apart.
Where Charles was the brightest light of adventure in Celestia's life, she was the jewel of his; he taught her and was, though she knew not if he was aware, the spark within her which ignited her inner magic. When he returned from his brief, infrequent journeys to his homeland in Triswitch, Charles would always have things for her which sparked her imagination, including books full of magic and fantasy, things such as griffons and dragons, wicked nightmares and cockatrices. Once the nurse discovered one of her storybooks and burned it.
"Princesses have no business reading of knights and quests," she reprimanded. "It is the duty of a princess to be happy and to keep her people happy, not to trouble herself with this nonsense."
King Orion urged her daughter to listen to the nurse. Only Luna seemed to accept Celestia for who she was…but no one seemed to consider Luna, her sister included. The world was too busy to remember that she even existed; Duke Gordon of Gildiffon took most of the king's time in negotiations, and by the end of it the man was nearly too exhausted to remember that he was a father.
Charles entered Celestia's study one afternoon, and found her standing at a cabinet, fingering a small stick.
"What's that?" he asked.
"The first rose you ever gave me," she answered. "On the first day we ever met."
"I remember now," he said, nodding. "How old were we—eight?"
"About that, I suppose so," Celestia replied. "You made me a promise that day, do you remember it?"
"I promised," Charles began slowly, "that we would run away together."
"I'd never be brave enough to go alone." Celestia's voice was small and conspiratorial. "You can't really say that all of this—politics, government and nonsense—you can't say that it's better for us here than somewhere far away."
"No, I can't," Charles admitted. "I've had the same thoughts; I know you aren't happy here. I only want to leave if you're certain, though."
"I've thought about it for a long time," Celestia said. "There's no place for me here. They don't want me here as long as I have a glimpse through you of the world outside. I need to get out."
Charles couldn't argue with her if he had wanted to.
They waited for the darkness to fall before their plan was enacted. Celestia took only the clothes on her back, creeping as silently as she could through the halls to her father's room. She wanted only to give him a surreptitious goodbye; that is to say, tell him she loved him in fewer words. No one, not even he, could know that she was leaving until she was gone.
As she heard the sound of footsteps, however, she stopped, hiding herself as best she could behind a white pillar in the hall. Peeking curiously along the side, she saw Duke Gordon crossing the room with a bottle of wine. She followed him with her eyes, all the way across the hall and into her father's study. Her heart dropped; she had no desire to ever be in the presence of Gordon.
"I'm sorry, Daddy," she murmured, retracing her steps to the window under her tower. She climbed through it, remembering doing so once before, long ago.
Celestia met Charles in the courtyard, and he led her to the stables, where he untethered a gelding and helped her onto its back. He untethered it before climbing in front of the princess and taking up the reins. With a flick of his wrist the horse began to walk forward; a gentle kick to the flank and it broke into a canter.
The royal grounds gave way to open fields, which ran on for miles. As the sun mounted the horizon, kissing each individual blade of grass with its warmth, apprehension rose within Celestia. They were still near the castle, and if anyone glanced out in their direction, they could be seen. She clutched Charles's waist the tiniest bit closer, and he felt her fear. Kicking the horse's flank again, a bit more urgently, he coaxed it to its fastest.
"Cast a spell," Celestia whispered into his ear. "Your magic is better than mine. Hide us from their view."
"I could only hide one of us," he said. "Even if you could hide yourself, the horse would give us away. We just have to move quickly; the forest is only a mile on. We can stop when we reach there."
Celestia trusted his judgment; she had always trusted him. They moved as quickly as possible, inciting what speed they could from the horse as they went. Charles didn't disappoint; they came upon the forest quickly enough.
As they stood in the brambles, however, Celestia saw gold-and-purple banners on the horizon. Approaching from the castle was a company of three; a soldier, Franklin, and the nurse. Celestia grabbed Charles's sleeve and he gasped, attempting to climb onto his horse before they arrived. Celestia knew it was too late, however, as the group approached.
She expected to see anger or disappointment in their faces; instead, she saw grief and despair. Something was very wrong.
"Celestia!" the nurse cried, running forward and taking the young woman in her arms.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Your father—" Words failed her and she dissolved into sobs; Celestia had to look to Franklin for the answer, which he seemed reluctant to offer.
"Your father has been murdered," he said, his voice cracking on his words.
