I've been so sure that I already posted this. Imagine my surprise when I noticed that I didn't. So here it is.

Moulder was proud at being made the bishop's personal messenger; well, one of his messengers and the one who delivered the letters to the royal family. The fact that he was given such an important task itself should make him happy, but, as expected, Moulder was just happy about being able to see the prince so often. Especially in the last few weeks, he was able to see the prince daily. It probably wasn't a good sign but Moulder just couldn't feel bad.

However, there was one thing that ruined these meetings with the prince; the baby princess. Far too often, she was there when Moulder entered. Prince Hayden would play with her, make her giggle or just cuddle with her. Moulder not only felt like he was intruding in a part of the prince's life that he had no business in (even though he so yearned to be part of his life) but he was also crushed when he saw how lovingly the prince treated his daughter.

Moulder knew that the prince had already done similar things with Lord Innes; playing with him between work, taking him to meetings which Lord Innes would sleep through. But Prince Hayden was much more openly affectionate towards Lady Tana. His whole expression shone with love and adoration every time he saw the little girl.

Moulder couldn't help but feel sad that he would never been shown even a fraction of that love. It wasn't like he couldn't understand why the little princess was so precious to Prince Hayden. She had been conceived shortly after Princess Aileen's recovery. It had been a miracle; nobody had thought that it would be possible that the princess could recover and then she had become pregnant only a few months after that? And the baby princess was perfectly healthy and a happy child. Moulder would probably also elated if he were in Prince Hayden's position.

But he wasn't and was doomed to watch as the man he loved continued to live a very happy life with his wife and children.

Moulder sighed deeply. The sigh echoed in the big church and Moulder flinched; it sounded so sorrowful that he automatically switched into his always-here-to-encourage-people monk personality. He felt a bit silly and, shaking his head, continued mopping the floor. Even though he was no longer a clerical student – he had been ordained two months ago – he still liked to clean the church and sometimes he asked one of the young boys to leave the job to him. It was beneficial to both; he had his well-liked task and the younglings could get to know their new home. Everybody was happy – apart from Father Larov who was responsible for the new students' education.

Moulder sighed again, not as deeply and loudly as a minute ago, and concentrated on his work. An hour later, he was done and, with a much lighter heart and mind, he stowed away the cleaning utensils. Just as he wanted to leave the church, he heard someone call his name. Curious, he stopped.

A second later, Father Larov stormed through the main door of the church. "Brother Moulder," he exclaimed, his voice like thunder. Moulder flinched; his repeated disobedience regarding the cleaning didn't warrant such loudness, did it?

"Yes, Father Larov?" Moulder asked politely and tried to not look guilty.

"Why are you never where you're supposed to be?!" Moulder tried to object, but the red-haired man cut him short. "I do not appreciate this. I'm not some sort of hunter for runaway priests!" Moulder lowered his head to hide his smile; the father had been complaining about this for years, as other former students had told him, and yet he had never asked the bishop for another position. It was difficult not to noticed that the Father quite liked ranting and complaining about his students.

"How can I help you, Father Larov?" Moulder asked after he managed to control and fight down his smile. Larov dabbed his forehead and grunted.

"The bishop asked me to provide him with a list of our most reliable brothers. He was looking for one priest and three students to send to Laurea."

"The coast town?" Moulder asked. That name had made him perk up his ears. The town was close to his hometown.

"Yes, yes," the father said, nodding, and packed away his handkerchief. "They're building a new church there and they need a few helping hands."

"But we're no craftspeople…"

"Don't be stupid, boy!" The father huffed and puffed up with indignation. Moulder had to bite his lip to keep from grinning. The father looked like a wheezing teapot whenever he did that. "You're supposed to take care of the people's needs and only lend a hand when it's necessary. Make sure that everything's there. Or act as a mediator between the castle and the town. Whatever comes up." Father Larov looked Moulder in the eye. "It could be that you are chosen. Would you be ready?"

Moulder blinked slowly. He was quite shocked about this turn of events; he was honoured, obviously, to be deemed this capable, but this also meant that he would not see the prince for a long time. He gulped down his doubts for a moment and asked: "How long would this take?"

Father Larov shook his head. "The process was started last year already and as far as I know, the foundation walls are standing already. But the young brothers that had been serving in Laurea had to leave due to reasons that are none of our business," he shot a strict glance at Moulder, but he hadn't wanted to question this anyway, "and now they need new helpers. A year, maybe less if there's not enough work to occupy four of you. But Bishop Findlay wants to rather send too many than too few."

"I understand," Moulder said lowly. This was a great chance, but the thought of not seeing the prince for a year made his heart ache.

"Well, the bishop hasn't decided anything yet, so you might not even be chosen," Father Larov continued more lightly. "But you and the other candidates need to know about this. And now excuse me, I have a few more priests to chase." The father frowned grimly and stormed out of the church.

Moulder tried to smile over the father's silliness but he couldn't quite manage. There was a tight knot in his stomach and, feeling almost dizzy, he left to think this over in his hopefully quiet room.

###

The next morning brought no new insights so Moulder did his duties as if nothing had happened. After lunch, he strolled through the castle as the bishop was not finished with his meetings yet. As Moulder walked through the long corridors, vaguely in direction of the gardens, his thoughts returned to his possible departure. When Moulder had asked the bishop about it earlier, he had received no straight answer.

"There are too many things to consider." That was all the bishop had said about the matter and Moulder hadn't been able to draw more information from him.

Moulder resisted the urge to sigh deeply and ambled over to a window. He let his gaze sweep over the clear blue sky. Leaning his head against the window, he thought about how little his life mattered in the grand scheme of things. The world kept turning, life continued and nature was flourishing while he was struggling to make a decision. This only mattered to him and the insignificance of his choice made him honestly feel better.

Moulder's train of thought was interrupted by a very familiar laugh; Moulder's gaze dropped from the sky to the garden underneath. One storey beneath him was the private royal garden. Moulder had completely forgot that he would pass it on his way to the grand garden – if he had, he probably would've taken another way.

The whole royal family was sitting at a tea table and enjoying the spring sun. Moulder swallowed. The queen was reading something to Lord Innes – they were sitting on a bench so that the young lord could lie with his head on her lap. Prince Hayden had the baby princess on his lap and was seemingly talking to her. Whatever he was saying, it greatly amused the princess. She was clapping her hands and laughing so loudly that even Moulder could hear it.

Moulder tried to drop his gaze but couldn't. His heart beat so quickly and loudly that it seemed indecent. He couldn't believe how much he wanted to be a part of the prince's family – to be his family.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to calm down. These feelings scared him; he was so angry that it would never be true, that his feelings would never be returned. He shook his head violently. This was not the person his family had sent to the capital to study.

Moulder was again interrupted by the princess' laughter. Unwillingly, Moulder opened his eyes. The prince had stood up and sat the princess on his shoulder. Together they watched the pegasus knights flying through the air and practising. As the prince pointed at some of the pegasi, the princess grabbed for them.

Moulder sighed shakily. The prince was beaming with joy and, as the princess threw her skirt over her father's eyes, he began to think that he would never be able to make the prince this happy. While watching the prince tickle the princess in retaliation and catching her before she could fall from his shoulders, Moulder grew surer in this feeling.

Shaking his head, he stepped back from the window. Moulder's wishes and reality were not compatible. He had nursed his crush for months. Moulder startled. No, not months. It had been about two years since the fateful meeting in the church. His face fell at that realisation. He had clung to an impossible crush for two full years.

Moulder quickly turned on his heels and walked straight to the bishop's office. He could not continue like this. His conduct was embarrassing. When his friends had had crushes and were rejected, he had always advised them to minimise contact and move on. His actions betrayed his hypocrisy and Moulder would not accept this.

He was so angry about himself and determined to end this farce that he stormed into the bishop's office without knocking. He had to listen to a long, angry lecture about politeness and manners, but he still managed to convince the bishop to choose him for the job in Laurea.

Soon, he would be gone and have the time to become a man his family and his abbot could be proud of.