Nixiesocean: Ok, I think of all my stories, this is my favorite! Cheers for you, because then I'll update more. (Not that I'm not normally). Okay, I won't keep you from your wonderful chapter 8!

Chapter 8: The Capital

"He thinks romance is 'a load of crap' right now." Cyrun reported.

"Thank you." I said.

"He says it is from 'women having too complex a mind'. But I think he wants your name. At least give him that. I know how much he loves you, Sir Eric." She pleaded. It was a hard decision.

"I can't Cyrun. If I do, he'll come calling-" I tried to reason. Didn't I kiss him? Didn't I at least have some affection for him? For God's sake, I saved his life! Twice!

"See! Look at yourself! I know you want him to come calling. I can see it in your eyes!" Cyrun quickly looked behind. For what, I had not idea. "Katharine, you need to-"

"How in the name of the infernal abyss do you know my name?" I hissed. I never said it aloud. How does she know it?

"I don't know…" She pondered. "How did I?"

"I won't tell him my name, Cyrun. I can't!"

"Then I will!" She whispered. "I've been able to tell what a person wants so deeply my whole life. It's like a sixth sense. You want to not be engaged." Is she some sort of witch? No. She's just good at interpreting how a person acts. "He wants your name."

"He won't get it, Cyrun. I won't give it to him." I replied. I knew I was being rude. I couldn't help it. He would be the first male in a long time that would know my name, not as Sir Eric. "I can't."

It was late evening when we stopped. Lance, I'm sure, was intrigued on what we talking about. I refused to tell. Cyrun, as always, ran off.

"So, uh, how far until we reach the capital?" So, he wanted to make small talk. I guess it's better than badgering me for my name.

"About a day. We will need to find a place to stay-" I started. Lance held up his hand.

"The palace." He stated. I cringed. I hated anything to do with such an extravagant place. My room at home had two rooms: Bedroom, Sitting Room. Neither of which were over-elaborate. They were furnished simply. I had simple cotton and wool bed sheets (Albeit they are soft covers…).

"No, it's okay… my manor is less than a day's ride-" I tried to avoid the prospect of the palace/castle thingy he stayed in.

"I insist." He persisted.

I sighed. I couldn't refuse the prince, though I had before. I just couldn't. "What about Cyrun?"

He looked at me. "We have more than one guest complex, Sir Eric," He laughed. "Cyrun will be fine."

We were silent for a while. It was awkward. I had to break the silence, but what to say? It's not like I can say 'Hey, Cyrun told me that you want to know my name. Guess what? I'm not going to tell you!' Though, a month ago, I would've.

"Lance?" I asked.

"What?" He was obviously in a bad mood.

"Oh, crap." I said, standing. "I forgot." Truly I did. Lance just looked at me. He shook his head and picked up a stick and started carving on the stick. It was in some language I couldn't read. When I tried to see it, I looked at me and stood. He quickly left, leaving me by the fire, alone with Goldflame and Swift.

Goldflame? I called to my shealth, drawing the sword.

Yes, mistress I am here. The sword responded, her effeminate voice echoing inside my head.

What do you think Lance was carving? I asked. She laughed, in a sword-like way.

Do you think I know? I doubt you do. She was right. She probably didn't know. Obviously, I didn't.

Could you at least try and see if you know what it said?

I can, though it is possible my magic won't work. If it doesn't, ask your dragon. She may know.

Fine. I snapped. I was too irritated to notice she hadn't called Cyrun a human. Take it from my mind.

I felt her reach into my memory of what he carved into that stick. She glowed a light blue color (unusual for her, considering she's Goldflame…) I heard her give a laugh. He made it too easy, mistress.

And it means?

Lance entered the campsite again

It reads, in Old Vyingun, "True Love is a mountain: Hard to climb, but rewarding at the end." It is a proverb often used by the Vyins back in the 3rd Year of the Hate. They were in a deadly fight with their neighbors, the Rrunfs. The Rrunfs used some sort of spell to make man and woman hate each other, so they wouldn't support each other and produce more soldiers to fight them.

How do you know that? I mean, you weren't around 500 years ago, were you?

Yes, my mistress, I was. I was an Rrunf.

Lance spoke. "Sir Eric?"

We'll talk about this later. I shoved the sword back in her sheath.

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"You want her name, Lance, do you not?" Cyrun asked. How did she know? Lance asked himself.

"Yes, Lady Cyrun, I do." He replied. If she knew what he most desired, maybe she knew Sir Eric's name. "Do you know it?"

"Yes. She has refused to disclose it, Lance. I'm sorry. In due time you will find it." She said, staring into the reflection of the clear night sky. It was pitch black with the white dots known as stars.

"Damnit. Here," He handed her the stick he'd carved some sort of phrase in. It had come from his mind. He had no idea what it said. Cyrun looked at it, feeling the birch-wood. She looked at the writing. "Can you read it?"

"Yes." She stated. "It says, "True Love is a mountain: Hard to climb, but rewarding at the end." Where did you find it?"

"I wrote it." He replied simply.

"You know Old Vyingun?"

"No. I was trying to write some sort of phrase, and that came out." What was wrong with writing something you didn't know? Well, all of it. First off, you shouldn't even know how to write it, second off, if you don't know how to read it, how do you know you wrote it correctly?

"I see." She handed back the stick. "I'll meet you back at camp in the morning."

"Thank you, Lady Cyrun."

"Do me a favor and don't call me 'lady' I am not one. Therefore no worthy of a title." He didn't try and debate with her. He left, leaving Cyrun staring at the night sky.

He reentered the camp, seeing Sir Eric staring at her sword, Goldflame. He spoke softly. "Sir Eric?"

She took one look at her sword and put it back in the sheath and stood. "What can I help you with?"

"I was, er, wondering if-" She cut him off.

"I'd give you my name?" She finished his question.

"No. I was wondering if, well, you'd…" She eyed him warily. "Ride Swift. He seems not to like me." He finished lamely.

"Uh, Sure." She said. She was uncomfortably close. When he subconsciously closed his eyes, he knew something was out of whack. By that time, they were already kissing. He moved his hands to her hips. He felt her move her hands to his neck. This time, there was no archer who tried to kill him. There was just the campfire. There was just them.

It wasn't their first kiss. That one was rudely interrupted. He was still conscious of where they touched. It felt wonderful. It felt just right, her in his arms. He felt tears wet his cheeks. He broke the kiss and saw the face of his beautiful Sir Eric wet with tears.

"What's wrong?" He asked, genuinely concerned for her.

"We can't do this, Lance." She whispered. They sat. She placed herself on his lap and laid her head on his shoulder. "We can't. You know it."

A smile tugged at his face and he kissed her cheek. "Do I care?" He whispered. "At least your husband will have a wonderful wife. I'll be jealous, but happy for your new husband."

"Thanks, my little stick." She whispered. She closed her eyes and slept right there on his shoulder. He laid his hands on her back and slowly stood, moving her to her sleeping furs. She slept soundly throughout the night.

He yawned at went to bed, happy that he knew she loved him, sad because of her engagement.

The next morning was a dreary one, grey sky with a steady downpour of a light mist of rain. Sir Eric rode Swift and talked with Cyrun, who had come back as promised. Eric was admently shaking her head while Cyrun, once again, was pleading. It seemed they did this every day. Sir Eric shook her head one last time, which he guessed, ended the conversation. Cyrun smiled and said something to Sir Eric, which made her turn pale. Now, it was Sir Eric's turn to plead. Cyrun was grinning from ear to ear at Sir Eric's pleads.

When Cyrun looked up, she gasped. And shook Sir Eric's arm. Saying something, He guessed she was excited. When he looked up, he saw it too. The castle gates. They were huge! How come he'd never noticed it before? Maybe it was because he was never intent on watching some lame gates. When the crowd saw us, Sir Eric quickly reached down and grabbed Lance, pulling him up onto her saddle, leaving Cyrun to walk.

The guards yelled something to the effect of 'He's back! Prince Lance is back!' We tried to move through the crowd but they swarmed the group. Finally, Sir Eric demanded to be let by. She said I would give a speech later. Wait! I was to give a speech? I tried to dissuade her from such a promise, but she wouldn't hear any of it.

Finally we arrive at the palace gates, the king, his father, was there. He greeted Sir Eric and Cyrun. Cyrun, to her obvious dismay, was sent to the guest rooms. Hostlers took Swift and the pair walked inside.

"Thank you Sir Eric. The whole country is grateful that you had the courage to slay a dragon to return the Crown Prince to us. Come along." They entered a room that held a man, who wore the same coat of arms as Sir Eric and a chair. It was, as the rest of the palace, very lavish. "Ah, Lord Nett. I'm glad you could make it."

"Hello, King Clem. Hello Prince Lance. Hello Sir Eric, of Brighton, is it not?" Lord Nett said.

"Yes, Father." She grumbled.

"I'm glad you are here, Nett." King Clem said jovially. He clapped his hands. A maid appeared. "Take Sir Eric, here, to her dressing room." Wait, he knew Sir Eric was a girl? She bowed at told Sir Eric to follow her. Another maid appeared. "Take Lance here to his rooms. He needs a bath." Lance stared at his father. Had he just told a maid he smelled?

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I grumbled as maids cleaned my black hair and put it into tiny braids that made were then put into an intricate headdress. I had a dark blue dress shoved onto my body. It felt weird. I haven't worn a dress in forever. I actually felt my legs, rather just hearing the clank of metal as my legs brushed each other.

"Okay, lady, you may meet your father now. He is in the parlor." The maid told me. I yawned one more time and left the dressing room.

"Hello Father." I said.

"Ah, Katharine!" He gave me hug. "I'm glad you look so beautiful. Come along. You look so wonderful. Come along. You need to meet your fiancée!" He simply glowed with pleasure, which made me wonder who my fiancée was.

"And who has that 'oh-so-delightful' position." I said, disgust plain in my voice.

"Oh shush. You'll find out. Come along. He's in this room." He hurried me up until we reach 'this room'. Which, I have to say, looked like any other room.

He opened the door and pushed me in.

Who I saw made my jaw drop.

Can I hear a holler for fluff? You gotta admit, fluff rocks!