The next morning, Alaric found himself more eager than ever to return to the village. But as he prepared to leave his chambers, he heard a soft knock on the door. He froze, his heart skipping a beat—had his late-night trips finally been discovered?
When he opened the door, he was greeted by none other than his personal attendant, Geoffrey. Geoffrey, an older gentleman with a fondness for overly grand gestures and an unfortunate penchant for gossip, bowed dramatically, his arms outstretched.
"My lord," Geoffrey said, his voice carrying that particular brand of feigned humility Alaric had come to both dread and tolerate. "Your father requests your presence at breakfast."
Alaric suppressed a groan. The last thing he needed right now was a lengthy royal breakfast with his father, who would likely grill him about his recent comings and goings. But there was no way to refuse the king's summons, especially without raising suspicion.
"Very well," Alaric replied, his tone as nonchalant as he could manage. "Let's not keep the king waiting."
As they made their way down the palace corridors, Geoffrey leaned in close, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "It's a wonder, my lord, how often you've been slipping off on your 'morning strolls' lately. Some say there's a fair lady involved. Perhaps a maiden with whom our dear prince has become… enamored?"
Alaric shot Geoffrey a warning glance. "That's enough, Geoffrey. I assure you, my excursions are nothing of the sort."
Geoffrey straightened, but Alaric could still see the sparkle of amusement in his eyes. "Of course, of course," Geoffrey replied, clearly unconvinced. "Just a morning stroll, then. How very noble of you, my lord."
Alaric rolled his eyes and quickened his pace, hoping to put an end to the conversation. The last thing he needed was Geoffrey spreading rumors about a mysterious lady in his life. If word of his connection with Aveline reached his father's ears, the consequences could be disastrous—for both him and her.
---
Breakfast with the king proved to be as grueling as Alaric had anticipated. His father, a towering man with a voice like thunder, spent most of the meal detailing the latest political developments in the kingdom, which involved negotiations with a neighboring lord for a potential alliance. Alaric listened with half an ear, his mind already wandering back to the village and Aveline's wary smile.
But just as he thought he might escape without any probing questions, his father fixed him with a shrewd gaze.
"So, Alaric," the king began, his tone deceptively casual, "I hear you've taken an interest in exploring the village as of late."
Alaric swallowed, choosing his words carefully. "Yes, Father. I find it… enlightening to see more of the kingdom I'll one day rule."
The king's eyes narrowed, his expression skeptical. "Exploring the village is well and good, but remember, you are a prince. There are limits to what is appropriate."
"Yes, Father," Alaric replied, doing his best to keep his tone neutral.
The king studied him for a moment longer before finally turning his attention back to his meal. Alaric exhaled a silent sigh of relief. For now, his secret was safe.
---
By the time Alaric finally made it to the village later that day, he was in a bit of a sour mood. Between Geoffrey's nosy inquiries and his father's suspicions, he felt like he was tiptoeing through a minefield. But all of that faded the moment he spotted Aveline.
She was at the well, drawing water, her brow furrowed as she worked the heavy bucket. Alaric smiled to himself, deciding he'd sneak up on her—after all, he could use a bit of fun after the morning he'd had.
He crept up behind her, doing his best to stay quiet. But just as he was about to reach her, Aveline suddenly spun around, catching him mid-sneak. Without missing a beat, she splashed a handful of cold water directly into his face, her expression deadpan.
"Oh, it's you," she said dryly, watching as he sputtered and wiped his face.
Alaric burst out laughing, the shock of the water lifting his spirits in an instant. "I deserved that," he admitted, still chuckling. "Though I had hoped for a slightly warmer greeting."
Aveline crossed her arms, arching an eyebrow. "You're lucky I didn't throw the whole bucket at you. You should know better than to sneak up on someone who's been up since dawn."
"Point taken," he replied, grinning. "But I can see why you'd be up so early. All this peace and quiet must be hard to come by."
Aveline gave him a skeptical look. "Peace and quiet? You really don't know much about village life, do you?"
She handed him the bucket, and Alaric took it without question, following her back to the small cottage she shared with a few other villagers. Along the way, he noticed the worn path she walked every day, the makeshift repairs on her clothes, the fatigue etched into her face. It was clear to him now just how hard her life was, and how little he truly understood about the world she lived in.
When they reached the cottage, she sat down on a rickety bench outside, gesturing for him to join her. Alaric did, his usual noble grace somewhat at odds with the humble surroundings. He knew he looked out of place here, but for some reason, being with Aveline made him feel more grounded, more real.
"So," Aveline said, breaking the silence, "tell me, what's it like living in a palace?"
Alaric hesitated, caught off guard by her question. "It's… quiet," he replied after a moment. "Too quiet, sometimes. And everything is so polished, so perfect. There are days I feel like I'm living in a gilded cage."
Aveline looked at him, her expression softening slightly. "A cage," she repeated, as if tasting the word. "Strange. Most people would give anything to live like you do."
He glanced down, feeling a pang of guilt. "I know. And I don't mean to sound ungrateful. It's just… sometimes it feels like there's a world outside the palace walls that I'll never truly understand."
She nodded, her gaze distant. "I suppose we all feel trapped in our own way."
A silence fell between them, comfortable yet weighted, as if they were both grappling with thoughts too complex to put into words. But then, a voice shattered the moment.
"Oi! Who's that fancy-looking fellow with you, Aveline?" called a grizzled old woman from a nearby cottage, squinting in Alaric's direction. "He looks like he's never lifted a finger in his life!"
Aveline snorted, biting back a laugh. "Oh, don't mind him, Greta," she called back, her tone playful. "He's just passing through."
Greta scoffed, her wrinkled face splitting into a mischievous grin. "Well, tell him to mind his manners around our girls. We've got enough trouble without him breaking hearts!"
Alaric's face turned red, and he stammered, "I—I assure you, ma'am, I would never…"
Aveline finally burst out laughing, doubling over as Alaric's embarrassment grew. "Relax," she said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "Greta's harmless. She just enjoys teasing people, especially strangers."
Alaric managed a sheepish smile, realizing he had let himself get worked up over nothing. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, though he still felt his cheeks burning.
For the rest of the afternoon, they sat and talked, their banter punctuated by occasional interruptions from nosy villagers, each one making a comment or two about the "handsome stranger" sitting with Aveline. Though it was embarrassing, Alaric found himself enjoying the attention, as well as the way Aveline seemed to relax around him, her laughter as warm as sunlight.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Alaric knew it was time to return to the castle before his absence raised any alarms. He stood, brushing the dust from his cloak, and looked down at Aveline.
"Thank you for… letting me spend the day with you," he said, feeling strangely nervous.
Aveline looked up at him, her eyes thoughtful. "I still don't know what you're doing here," she said quietly. "But… I suppose you're not as hopeless as I thought."
He grinned, bowing slightly. "I'll take that as a compliment."
With a final nod, he turned and began to make his way back to the village path. But just as he reached the edge of the cottages, he heard Aveline's voice calling after him.
"Wait!"
He turned, his heart skipping a beat as he saw her running toward him, her expression unreadable. When she reached him, she hesitated for a moment before holding out her hand.
"I don't know what your reasons are," she said quietly, searching his face. "But… thank you. For helping today." She handed him a small, roughly woven bracelet made from bits of string and thread, frayed at the edges but crafted with care.
"For luck," she explained with a shrug, as if trying to downplay the gesture. "You look like you could use some."
Alaric took the bracelet, his heart pounding in a way that surprised him. He hadn't expected her to give him anything, especially not something so personal, and it filled him with a strange sense of hope. He slipped the bracelet over his wrist, the rough texture foreign against his skin, yet somehow comforting.
"Thank you, Aveline," he murmured, his voice softer than he intended. "I… I'll treasure it."
She rolled her eyes, though he could see a flicker of something warm in her gaze. "It's just a bit of string. Don't get all sentimental on me."
He chuckled, his grin widening. "Don't worry—I'll be back to annoy you again soon."
Aveline shook her head, but he caught the faintest hint of a smile as she turned away, waving him off. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"
Alaric watched her retreat, his heart filled with a confusing mix of joy and fear. The bracelet on his wrist was a constant reminder of the risk he was taking—both for himself and for Aveline. But he knew, deep down, that he couldn't stay away.
As he made his way back to the castle under the cover of twilight, he felt the weight of his dual life pressing down on him more than ever. He was walking a dangerous line, one that could crumble at any moment if he wasn't careful. But for now, he had something precious to hold onto—a token of trust, however small, from the girl who had come to mean more to him than he could explain.
Just as he neared the palace walls, Alaric spotted a figure moving through the shadows. His heart lurched, and he ducked behind a low wall, peering out cautiously. It was Geoffrey, his personal attendant, pacing near the back entrance, muttering to himself.
"Where is that boy?" Geoffrey mumbled, glancing around with an anxious expression. "Up to no good, no doubt…"
Alaric held his breath, waiting for Geoffrey to move on. But Geoffrey seemed intent on standing guard, his arms crossed as he surveyed the grounds with a mixture of irritation and worry.
Alaric bit back a sigh, realizing that slipping back into the palace unnoticed might be trickier than usual tonight. But as he tightened the bracelet on his wrist, he felt a renewed determination. Somehow, he'd find a way back in—and he'd keep coming back to the village, no matter the obstacles.
With one last look at the darkened palace walls, Alaric braced himself. His double life was only getting more complicated, but he knew, in that moment, that he'd risk everything to keep it going. For Aveline, and for the future he was only beginning to glimpse.
---