Sorry again for the delay but we're coming to the final chapters here, hopefully only one more after this. I've kind of gone back to the Bones "canon" in this chapter, enjoy!

The wedding planning went into full swing the next day, the servants of the castle rushing around and preparing for the big event. Many extra guests were expected at the castle, rooms needed to be prepared, decorations needed to be put up and the kitchen was constantly busy. It would be one week until the Princess walked down the aisle, one week until she became Timothy's wife and sailed off to see his own country. The entire country seemed to embrace the celebrations, their was a holiday feeling in the air. Everyone was happy, except the bride herself.

The Princess Temperance had never felt more depressed in her whole life.

Ever since the night, when their hopes of changing the stars had been dashed, she had been walking around in a fog, constantly followed by a lady in waiting or servant. Lance's threat hung heavy over her head, for if she was even caught whispering to Booth, he would likely spill their secret. She wished desperately to steal off into the night with her lover, to leave the country forever, but it was too dangerous now that Sweets knew about them. She would not risk Booth's life for her own happiness. Instead she mindlessly listened to everyone planning her wedding, agreeing to whatever the whims of the others were. The rest of her life had been dictated to her like a prison sentence, why should her wedding not be the same?

A knock at Timothy's chamber door sent a servant scurrying over to answer it.

"I wish to speak with his highness," came a male voice at the door.

The Prince recognized the voice and gestured for his friend to enter.

"Booth, come in, sit down, what may I do for you?"

The knight took the seat across from Timothy, "I've come to make a request."

"Which is?" he noted that his friend looked tired, maybe even older today than the previous day, he sensed he would not like the request.

"I wish to join the crusades."

The words were blunt, Booth was serious. Timothy exhaled and studied the other man;

"Why fight Booth? You've never expressed an interest in defending the holy lands before."

"I wish to do my part for the church, fight at least once to defend my faith."

"Like a pilgrimage then, why don't you just take one of those? It would be far less dangerous."

Booth shook his head, "It is not the same. I am a knight, I should defend the church."

"Are you having a crisis of conscience? Have you committed a deadly sin which only fighting in the crusades would garner forgiveness for?"

Booth kept his expression neutral, knowing full well that he had a guilty conscience, "No, it is just a compulsion to serve the church, perhaps fight in honor of Rebecca," he dropped the name of his dead wife for emphasis.

"I see," though the Prince did not seem happy, "When would you like to go?"

"I would like to leave tomorrow."

Timothy's jaw dropped, "Tomorrow?" he repeated, "You wish to leave so soon? I am to be married and you would leave before the wedding?"

Booth had anticipated this reaction, he had prepared for it, "It is with regret that I plan to leave before your nuptials, but as you know, the summer will draw to a close soon, limiting the time I have to travel in good weather. I also wish to see my son before I leave and gather my men. Preparing for the journey will cost me another week. If I am to reach the holy lands before the winter I need to leave now."

It was an argument that Timothy would have a hard time disputing. He was silent for a few moments as he considered what the knight had to say. Finally he nodded;

"You have chosen a poor time to have a religious revelation Booth, but who am I to argue with the will of God? You have done your duty to me, I am grateful for all you've given," he reached out and took Booth's hand, "Is there no way to convince you to stay, put this off till the spring?"

"No, it is the will of God."

He shook his friend's hand, "Then I wish you luck on your mission, you are released with my blessing Booth."

"Thank you," the knight replied gratefully.

He had overcome the first obstacle and obtained the Prince's permission to leave, now came the second and hardest step, saying goodbye to the woman he loved and may never see again.

The air was rich with the scent of flowers in bloom and heavy with the heat of the day. The Princess walked slowly through her garden ignoring the chatter of her ladies.

"Sweetie, hello?" Angela waved a hand in front of her face, "Have you been listening to me?"

Temperance blinked, "Oh, sorry Angela, what was that?"

"I said you have a dress fitting later this afternoon. Where have you been lately, you've been very distant."

She waved her hand as if to dismiss the thought, "I've just been thinking about what will happen after the wedding, you know, traveling to Timothy's country, my coronation."

Angela narrowed her eyes at the Princess, "Is that all?"

"That is all," there was a finality to Temperance's voice.

They walked a few paces in silence.

"Are you nervous?" Angela ventured.

"Nervous about what?"

"The wedding, marrying Timothy."

"Why should I be nervous?"

"Some people get nervous before their wedding, it changes your life, you're now bound to him till you die."

Temperance kept her face impassive trying to hide the fact that she did not want to be bound to the Prince;

"But I gain my kingdom by marrying him."

"That is true. He is a kind man, I'm sure you two will be fine."

"We will be," she said it to assure Angela while attempting to convince herself.

"My lady!" Daisy's voice broke their conversation.

Temperance raised an eyebrow at the younger woman, "Yes?"

"Sir Booth wishes to speak with you," she pointed to the door where he waited.

The Princess was nearly positive that Sweets had not told Daisy anything, there was no look of disapproval in her eyes.

"Send him over."

The knight did not bother to wait for the invitation, he was already striding across the grass.

"Sir Booth," she greeted him formally.

"Princess," he took her outstretched hand and kissed it, his lips and eyes lingering on her a moment to long.

"What brings you here?" she dropped her eyes and hand from his.

"I've come to say farewell," it was then she saw the sadness in his eyes, heard it in his voice.

Angela noted the tension and excused herself to go wait with the other ladies, leaving the two with some privacy.

"Farewell? Where are you going?" blue eyes desperately searched brown.

"To the holy lands, on crusade."

She gasped, "When? Why?"

He dropped his voice and leaned in slightly closer to her, "You know why I must go."

"When?"

"At daybreak tomorrow."

She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, "So soon?" she whispered, "Is this to be our only farewell?"

Booth's strong hand reached out and took hers, hiding them behind the folds of her dress, "Yes," his voice was heavy with emotion, "It is too dangerous to steal away, but you know I would if we had the chance."

She nodded, squeezing his hand, "You will stay safe in the holy lands, do not put yourself in danger," she closed her eyes fighting back tears, "I need to know that you are alive, that you'll live on, even if we cannot be together."

Booth rubbed circles with his thumb on her palm, "I will try, though living without you will be harder than battle."

"And you'll think of me?"

"All the time."

"It will be you Booth, every time I touch him," she said the noun bitterly, "I will be thinking of you."

It was his turn to nod, when he spoke there was a catch in his voice, "Will you do something for me?"

"Anything."

"One year from today, will you come to our spot, meet me there?" he referred to the place they stopped when riding, the clearing where he had taught her to use his falcon so many months ago.

"Yes," she did not hesitate with her answer, "No matter what happens, I will be there."

A small smile formed on Booth's lips, "I will see you in one year Bones."

"One year," she echoed as a tear ran down her cheek.

Slowly, he let go of her hand and began to walk away. She watched him go knowing that the next year would be the longest of her life.

To be continued...

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