The sun waits for no one. On this particular morning its bright rays paid no heed to the fact that Adrien had stayed up late and found less than his usual amount of sleep. He woke up almost begrudgingly but smiled as the memory of the night before invaded his mind. The kiss he shared with Rose. Their time spend in each others company. And the excitement he felt at the knowledge he would see here again. He looked over at the grandfather clock in the corner. It was 7am. He had to occupy himself for another 8 hours.
It was days such as this that he appreciated his duties as a king to keep him busy. The thought came to him as he poured over many pending decisions regarding political advisors and increasing castle staff that he realized he could easily be occupied with matters of a King all day and all night. The title and its responsibilities were never ending. However, in that same regard there would come a day when they would not be his to bear. Be it death or passing it onto a heir or a steward.
His favorite tale came to mind particularly Arthur and Guinevere. How Guinevere had strayed from her husband and sought the company of Lancelot. The recollection of the conversation he had with Rosalyn came to mind. How he thought if Arthur had waited to marry, Guinevere would have decided she couldn't support a husband that carried the title of King and its responsibilities. While Rosalyn had voiced that perhaps if Arthur had balanced his time better between his title and responsibilities as a King to his people and that of his title and responsibilities as a Husband to his wife she wouldn't have strayed.
The idea of Rosalyn ever feeling so lonely that she desired the company of another saddened him. It also infuriated him. His mother had been lonely at times. Though she did well to hide it, he had noticed in on rare occasion. Never did she turn her gaze toward another man to fill that void. To Adrien that was true love. He didn't desire to think about those kind of trust breaking hardships when it came to him and Rose should their current courtship. As such he came to a conclusion he would always set time aside every day to spend with Rosalyn on days they spent together in courtship; To show love to the soul he cared about most in this world. Should they eventually marry, he would make it a daily occurrence. Eight hours daily to his title as King and his subjects. Eight hours to Rosalyn. Eight hours to sleep.
With that happy conclusion he looked to the clock. It was eight o clock. The village bell tolling in the great distance, the market surely opening. Seven hours left...
Rosalyn had fallen asleep nearly as soon as the door closed behind her. Though she had not done much to challenge herself physically, but all the emotions that had rushed through her veins wore her out. She was able to hang her cloak up and slip out of her red dress before she fell asleep in her bed.
She awoke the next morning with the beginnings of sunlight shining through her window. It was early. Too early, she felt. But if she fell back asleep, she may not get anything done before the king arrived. Rose rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stretched her arms out before getting out of bed. She dressed in the light blue dress with the long skirt she had wore many times before.
Then she set out to clean her home. For the first time in weeks, she stepped into the living room of her home. Everything was covered in dust and in the same spot her father had left it.
Rosalyn walked over to the dusty music box on the mantle. Carefully, she opened the delicate doors to reveal the scene inside. She spun the golden crank on the side and the familiar tune began to play. Quietly she began to sing the corresponding lyrics.
"How can a moment last forever, how can a story never die? It is love we must hold on to, never easy, but we try." The woman's voice cracked and her voice was replaced with cries as the memory of her father filled her mind. The tune continued to play as she sank to the floor. How was she going to do this? She had a hard enough time even entering the room, let alone packing all of his things away.
It was nearly an hour before she collected herself. She carefully dusted all of her father's tools and placed them in a wooden trunk, which she later took into his room and placed in the corner near the door.
Once Rosalyn finished cleaning up the living room, she went into the kitchen to see if she needed to go to the market for anything. She had an idea of what she was going to make for dinner, so the trip would be unnecessary.
All that was left now was to wait for the king's arrival.
The lunch hour came and Adrien was stumped. "I need a present for Rosalyn. Something that is not a flower, because it is Autumn and there wont be vibrant flowers left to present." He said as he ate lunch. Mrs. Pom nodded, "The best kind of gift is a useful gift, as I always say. What about tea herbs? Does she have a favorite?" Chip tugged on his mothers arm, "She doesn't have a favorite tea, mum. I asked her before."
Something to drink. Something not tea. Something not containing alcohol. "Mrs. Pom, didn't you speak to me the other day about gaining 'drinking chocolate' for the coming winter to serve in the library. I don't suppose you have any of that do you?"
Mrs. Pom clapped in excitement. "Yes, I do, Your Majesty. I'll be right back." She returned with a wrapped parcel. "Tell Miss Rosalyn to add it to a cup of warm milk." He nodded his thanks and checked the clock. Only two hours before he could depart.
The hour arrived to which Adrien permitted himself to begin his journey to the village. He road upon the grey with white dapple patterned Arabian. He wore black riding boots, black breeches, a silver vest with fine embellishment, and a waistcoat of silver with equally fine embellishment. The upper part of his hair was pulled back in into a pony's tail. Leaving the remaining locks to cascade down at top of shoulder length.
He had to keep a firm hand on the horses reins as he did not want to arrive too early or appear rushed. The nerves in his stomach tickled him as the excitement of spending time with Rose was present. Yet, the nervousness of being so...out in the open. Among people.
He hid all of these insecurities as he left the cover of the woods and headed into town. His appearance was that of a calm, collected, regal ruler simply traveling solo. He could have arrived by carriage and horsemen and made quite a show of it. He did no such thing. He (for lack of a better word) was trying to appear human. Personable. A King that the people could respect not fear.
As he passed through the village gate, looks of shock followed immediately with deep bows or curtsies proceeded, as he rode by. He cast his glance about making physical notice of the villagers respectful gestures.
He stopped when he reached the Beaumont residence and secured his horse. With the package in hand and the botany book tucked into a inner pocket in his waist coat he strode up to the front door and knocked thrice. He ignored the eyes of those looking through windows that surrounded the Beaumont residence.
Rosalyn had been staring at the windmill shaped music box when she heard knocking on the door. Had she been standing there that long? Either way, her heart filled once again with joy and a broad smile spread across her face.
Within the next couple moments, she was at the door. "Good afternoon, your majesty," she greeted with a deep curtsy. When she stood again, she saw people in the windows around her house. They were all looking at the two, wondering what was going on.
"I've been eagerly awaiting your arrival."
"Good Afternoon to you, Miss Beaumont." Adrien said with a appropriate return bow and a controlled smile. Though his eyes showed his true enthusiasm. "For you. May I come in?" He said presenting the brown wrapped parcel with twine about it to make a bow on top.
Rosalyn took the package and smiled. "Of course," she said and moved out of the doorway. "You didn't have to bring me anything, you know." Rose looked down at the gift in her hands. "I don't have anything for you, Adrien."
She accepted his gift and gave permission to enter. He stepped over the threshold and into her home. She closed the door and spoke about not needing a gift. He felt his shoulders relax now that the eyes of the surrounding villagers were not in full view of them.
"I know I did not 'have to' bring you a gift. I wanted to bring you a gift. As is customary, according to Colin, for those in the thralls of courtship. You need not have a gift for me. Just your company is a gift to me in of itself." He said removing his riding cloak and hung it on the coat rack by the door.
"I suppose we will be frequently visiting one another, in each of our respective establishments. How about we leave gift giving to extra special occasion only, to avoid any feelings of guilt or inadequacy?"
Rosalyn nodded. "I agree," she said and the two walked into the living room. "Please, make yourself at home. I can make some tea, if you'd like," the woman offered.
Compared to the last time Adrien has visited her home, it was empty. Her father's workspace disappeared and was just an old wooden table once again. His many papers and paintings had been taken off the wall and packed away with the rest of his things. All except the portrait of Rose and her mother.
"No need to do so." Adrien answered, since he wasn't feeling particularly thirsty at that very moment. He cast his glance about the living room as he took a seat on the couch. It was so different compared to weeks ago when her father's belongings were still about. It felt very...empty. Perhaps the next gift he would give her for when a special occasion arose would be something of her own interest or liking to fill the odd void in the home. A new bookshelf completely filled with copies of all her favorites that she didn't own. He tucked that mental idea away and remembered what else he had brought.
"Perhaps you would like to continue reading this together? Would you like to read some out loud to me this time?" He suggested, revealing the Botany book.
Rosalyn set the gift down on the table in front of the sofa and sat down next to the king. "You are a much better speaker than I am, your majesty. Perhaps you should continue this one. I will read the next one," she suggested.
"Very well then." Adrien said, shifting his position just a bit to get comfortable before opening the book to begin reading where they left off. It was the chapter on trees. He was ever so excited when he came across the very tree that was the origin of his families surname.
"The Alder Tree. When immersed in water it hardens to the toughness of stone. Alder roots enrich the soil, and its timber resists decay. It's bark treated inflammations, rheumatism, and diarrhea. Bags filled with heated alder leaves helped with chronic skin diseases and burns. A gargle made from leaves and bark cured mouth ulcers and soothed tonsillitis. Alder oil and essence resonate with muscles and can relieve stiffness and damp diseases, enabling humans to move forward with flexibility and comfort. " He continued on,
"The lore of the Alder is a tree that supports and protects physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Its associations with both weapons and shields reminded the ancient Celts that part of the skill of the warrior lies in knowing when to take up the sword and when to take up the shield. Although an alder shield will protect you and give you courage and an alder-forged weapon will help you defend yourself, ultimately the most important aspect of the warrior is his or her intent. This is the key to success or failure. They alder reminds us of the need to blend strength and courage with generosity of spirit and compassion. There is a time to challenge things and a time to hold our peace. The alder teaches us this discrimination and the need to see beneath the surface of things. It combines the desire for self-preservation with the desire to serve and emphasizes the need for a firm foundation to stand on. The Alder Tree is delicate in appearance, but is tremendously strong. When cut, the sap of the Alder assumes a rust color, giving the tree a symbolic notion of bleeding forth its very essence to provide for those who need it."
He paused and looked to her, "My family's royal bloodline surname means 'Alder Tree'. My full name is Adrien DeLavergne. Like my father before me, and his father, and every male born in the DeLavergne bloodline has been given a first name with the letter A. While our last name remains the same, each carrying on its legacy and every aspect of the great tree its meaning comes from."
Rosalyn followed along as he rest from the book, curiously looking at a photo of the Alder tree. When the king stopped reading and instead began to talk about his name, Rose looked up at him.
"King Adrien DeLavergne," she repeated. The words slid smoothly across her tongue and a warm smile appeared on her lips. "It is a lovely name. A very fitting name for a king, as well."
"A fitting name and a equally fitting meaning for the responsibility it comes with." He agreed and cast his glance back to the book to continue reading.
He thought her name to be more lovely than his royal own. Miss Rosalyn Beaumont. The name Queen Rosalyn Beaumont DeLavergne did have a lovely sound to it. Someday perhaps that would be made true. He would not ask her of such a commitment until he felt it was time. A time that they both were ready. Until that day came, he would keep this notion to himself. Although, the very thought did put a grin on his lips.
A couple hours had passed by the time he came to the conclusion of the Botany book. It was approaching the hour of supper time. He closed the book and placed it on the table, just in time for his stomach to groan a little in approaching a famished state. "Pardon me, I had not realized the hour of supper was approaching."
Rosalyn stood from her seat and smoothed out the bodice of her gown. "I apologize, your majesty. I lost track of time myself and my appetite escapes me most days." Without saying much else, she disappeared into the kitchen to prepare their dinner.
It did not take her long, as she had done most of the prep work before the king had arrived. For the main course of their meal, she prepared a beef bourguignon that her father had taught her to make. She paired it with a lovely wine she had picked up in the market several weeks ago.
The table was small, so there was no way she could dramatically reveal their meal like the servants sometimes did in the palace. Instead, she lit a candle in the center of the table and set the two plates in front of their chairs. For dessert she had prepared a strawberry pie with a lattice top.
"Dinner is served, you majesty," she said when she reentered the living room. "It is not as extravagant as your meals in the palace, but I hope you will enjoy it just the same.
While she retreated to the kitchen to prepare them a meal, Adrien pondered on her last remark. About her appetite escaping her most days.
After reviewing the village censuses, he knew some of the more well to do villagers were able to sustain themselves on three meals a day. Such as a slice of rye or barley bread and ale or milk to drink for breakfast. A slice of cheese on a slice of rye or barley bread for lunch, again with ale. For supper a vegetable pottage, with some meat (pig, sheep, squirrel, beef, or hedgehog) or fish to go with it. Along with bread and ale or milk. Their idea of a dessert was a pie, flan, or pudding.
While others who were more poor, simply at two meals a day. In good harvest years they could indulge in barley or rye bread, ale and cheese. In low harvest year, it was often pottage. A kind of soup-stew made from oats or barley. Sometimes they added beans and peas for the breakfast pottage. Then used other vegetables such as turnips and parsnips for supper pottage. There idea of dessert was a vile dish called black pudding. Made of whatever blood of recently butchered meat animal, milk, animal fat, onions, and oatmeal.
Where as Adrien, being a king, was subject to extravagant meals at least three times a day. Each meal containing a selection of fruits, vegetables, wheat bread, fresh butter, cheese, wine, ale, meats, etc. With two times he also took tea and biscuits with jam and anything else at his request.
She came and announced dinner was served, he stood and entered into the dining area. Where much to his relief, he did not see pottage and black pudding on the table. He feared she had lost her appetite simply from being unable to afford higher means of meal eating since her father's passing. Beef bourguignon, wine, and a strawberry pie was a pleasant sight. He pulled a chair out for her to take a seat, then sat in his own.
"I am certain I will enjoy it just the same. It was made by you and I get to enjoy your company, just the same." He reassured, certain that this was a meal he could genuinely enjoy. Had it been pottage and black pudding, that would have been harder to project false enjoyment. But probably would have suffered though it out of loving endearment. Then would have proceeded to ensure she was monetarily compensated so she could eat in higher means or was sent a box of food amenities every few days to avoid such a meal again.
He spoke grace and began to eat. As he expected it was a delightful meal. Every so often taking a few sips of wine to refresh his palate. "Very enjoyable indeed. Thank you. I think even Cheif Boone would be impressed enough to seek out your recipe. He is very particular when it comes to the cooking arts." Adrien complimented her, keeping his eating pace to match her own she did not feel rushed.
Rosalyn smiled as she ate. "I wish I could give him the recipe, but every time I make a meal, it is a little different. My father never wrote down how he cooked, only showed me while he was doing it. I never have instructions to follow. My memory serves me well, for the most part. But I am glad you enjoy it, Adrien."
With the changing seasons, produce would be scarce again. She had bought the last of the strawberry harvest for the pie they would share later. There was enough grain to last the village through the harsh winter, and of course meat and eggs would always be available.
"The summer harvest was kind to us all, so the winter should be more bearable this year. It is just Mother Nature I worry about," she stated. "Once, several years ago, my father and I were frozen inside this house. The cold had froze our doors right up and it was a couple days before they thawed. My heart aches for those unfortunate enough to not have a home to protect them from the oncoming winter."
There were few wanderers that came through the woods and into their village as often as occasion permitted. They did not stay. The seven years of only enduring long winters and short spring had taken a toll on the village and its harvest production. People learned to not give what little food was there to begin with. When Rosalyn mentioned several winters ago and her heart ached for those unfortunate enough to not have a home to protect them he mind jumped to the ordinary looking woman who eventually transformed into the enchantress and placed the curse on him.
Over the years while guests spoke at the dances, the servants heard whispers of a ordinary woman who's origin was unknown. The whispers of this woman wanderer were that supposedly she had a settlement in the woods and did come into the village on occasion to beg for scraps for few days, then would retreat back into the woods. Adrien wondered if this ordinary woman was actually the enchantress. He knew not the enchantress's name only knew of what she looked like in her 'ordinary form' and enchantress form, and raven form.
"Has there been a woman without out home visiting in the village recently? A woman with summer blue sky eyes and golden hair, dressed in commoner clothing." He asked of Rosalyn, wondering if she knew. If he could find the whereabouts of the enchantress then perhaps one day he could ask her why she was so keen on meddling in his life.
Rosalyn thought hard about his question. "There was a woman," she said. But she did not remember what she had looked like, only what her name was. "She went by the name Astri. I have only seen her a handful of times my entire life."
When Rosalyn could not come up with a description of this mysterious woman by the name of Astri, he had further speculation that maybe it was the enchantress. He recalled the first time seeing her it was as if he was compelled to think her simply ordinary and make no deep remembrance of details such as her eyes or hair color. If she had listened to his demand of 'be gone' he surely would have forgotten what she looked like. Only when she pressed on speaking to him that the finer details of her ordinary appearance stayed in his mind. He tucked the name Astri into his mind for safe keeping and chose to disregard any further inquires for the time being.
"No matter. I have been curious as to why the enchantress still seems to have interest in meddling with my life, even though my curse was broken. When I first saw her she appeared plain and ordinary, like that of a commoner or even a wandering beggar. Then I noticed her features as I described. Finally upon cursing me her features were made enchanting shall we say. It is unlikely that they are one in the same. Based on your word it is not a matter worth pressing further. While I do not desire to beckon her with either of enchanted flowers she gave us, perhaps one day I will find her and ask why." He explained, not wanting Rosalyn to take his inquiry in the wrong manner.
He felt a change of topic was likely in order. As he did not want to tell Rosalyn that he had thought the Enchantress had visited him once in the form of a raven. While he had also hear the sound of his mother's voice during when he thought death was coming for him. But were rather odd, to say the least. "I will be adding more staff to the castle soon. The announcement will be made soon enough. If there are those in the village without a home and have a useful skill, they would be welcome to seek work and gain a roof over their heads in return, as we have servant quarters for those who do not have a family home to return to in the village."He looked at her with a grin, "I do admire that compassionate heart of yours. Please do not do anything too drastic like invite a persons without a home to live with you to fill any void you may be experiencing. I would be full of worry for your safety." he admitted.
Rosalyn nodded. "As much as I would like someone to accompany me in this household, I will not allow just anyone to do so," she said. She tried to help everyone as much as she could, whether it be coins or bread, but allowing a stranger into her home...
The thought had never even crossed her mind, in truth. Allowing someone to stay in your home overnight could have a number of possible outcomes, some of them rather unpleasant. Rosalyn wasn't going to take any chances with that. The king was the only person she had allowed into her home for weeks, but what a sight it would be for the villagers is she had turned him away.
He nodded feeling most reassured. Even with the best of intentions, inviting a stranger or a weary traveler into a home where the only resident was a female could be dangerous. Even if the guest was also female the idea didn't settle well with him. Perhaps he was just being overly cautious about her well being. She was an intellegent and capable woman. He truly need not worry.
He finished the main course of the meal and since she still had a few bites left, he decided to do something out of his ordinary. He took to the dish washing basin. Then came back with small plates, forks, and a serving spade to serve a slice of pie to each of them. He was not used to doing such tasks. And he managed to get one slice out and onto the plate in near perfect appearance. While the other toppled onto its side.
He placed the more aesthetically pleasing one on her side of the table. He sat down once again to partake of his own. "Thank you for the meal and dessert, Rose." He was unaccustomed to saying such, but for her he didn't mind saying so.
Rose smiled. "There is no need to thank me, your majesty. I should be thanking you for coming for a visit," she said. She took note of the two very different looking sliced of pie and bit her lip to stifle a giggle. The first slice was always the hardest to get out of the dish, especially if it was still warm.
Cooking was always something she found comforting, especially baking. The sweet aromas and warm air that came from the brick oven always brought her a kind of peace. Her father always told her that it took a special kind of woman to bake a good pie.
"Would you be able for visiting the castle at your earliest convenience? The leaves have begun to fall. I am certain there is a lad who wants to make the biggest pile of leaves in the entire kingdom with you." King Adrien asked, figuring daily visits would halt as soon as snow began to fall.
Either one of them could catch their death if they traveled too frequently in the bitter cold. Even with proper apparel on, Mother Nature had a way with causing illness if she desired.
"Of course, your majesty. I could visit as early as tomorrow if you'd like," Rosalyn offered. She finished her pie and gathered up the dishes, taking them over to the wash basin. She would clean them after the king departed for the evening. She finished her glass of wine and gently set it in there as well.
"I would like that very much. Never would I deny the opportunity to enjoy the pleasure of your company; regardless of when the last occurrence of your company happened. Be it many days or mere hours previous." He told of her. He would have gladly seen here for the rest of his days, even if they stayed in courtship.
Such a status would be unfit for a king, and he figured in time when they were ready they would marry. But at this point in time he didn't know if he desired to produce an heir and would rather simply find a steward to take over after his passing. Too much fear of his own father made himself fearful he would turn out equally unwell to raise up a child in such a manner. He loved Rose and if she was barren, simply did not desire to bear a child, or desired a child he would find a way to make it so. He was willing to do anything for her out of love and happiness. With her by his side he felt he could be his best self through anything, come what may.
He stood up and approached her, her back was turned toward him as she put her wine glas into the wash basin. He carefully wrapped his arms around her, giving her a hug from behind, her back to his chest and his arms carefully at her stomach so they didn't wander to more sensitive areas. "What would like to discuss this evening? Stars? Personal curiosities? What is on your mind?"