Chapter Text
Europe, 1306
"There was nothing out of line about it in the slightest," Princess Emily commented, brushing back a strand of curly blonde hair over her shoulder. She was wearing a light blue gown, large as always, and her hair had been put up by her maid before she left. "I thought it was quite charming. But won't your mother be upset with you for leaving for the commoners' play rather than staying for dinner?"
"Oh, certainly," Prince Roman nodded knowingly, though he grinned as he noticed Emily's grip on his arm take more force, her ocean blue eyes holding concern. "But not to worry, my darling, she's too fond of my to punish me in any way. If she were to lock me away, I'd still find a way to reach you."
"Roman," Emily sighed, an odd look of annoyance and enrapture by his charms. "You're quite ridiculous sometimes, you know?" She stopped, physically and verbally in the garden, which was alight with candles.
Roman walked on until Emily had tugged at his arm. "Emmy? Are you alright?"
"Yes," she answered quickly, gazing at the flowers, which were completely different in the orange light. "I just..." she looked up at him, a certain uncertainty in her eyes. "I love you so much, Roman. I'm so glad that I get to marry you in a few years. I suppose it's just surreal..."
"Of course it is," Roman said gently, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her along the path. "The idea that I have the privilege and honor of marrying you feels like a dream. You're my best friend, and a perfect queen. There's no one else in the entire kingdom I'd rather marry..." Roman's voice lowered, and Emily appeared completely in focus. Something in Roman felt off, something he couldn't describe. It bothered him, itched at him. He pressed a kiss to Emily's forehead and walked along to the entrance of the castle. "I suppose it's time to say goodnight, my love..."
"Goodnight, Roman..." Emily seemed hesitant, then leaned in and pressed her lips to Roman's, standing up on the front of her feet to reach him. She could have just as easily worn high heeled boots, but she liked the height difference; she thought it to be cute and romantic.
Roman held her close even as she pulled away, brushing some hair behind her ear. "You really are lovely, Emmy. Even more than the girl at the market..." he began to smirk, and Emily blushed bright red. She had been gazing at a girl in the commoner marketplace, one whose long dark hair and simple dress could far beat her own beauty, no matter what jewels she wore. Roman assumed jealousy, and he was glad to reassure. "Shall I see you before the end of the week?"
Emily nodded, still a little flustered as he fluffed out her dress. "I'll see you then, my prince..." She turned and walked to the wagon that was waiting for her, and Roman watched her until she got on board before leaving back into the castle. He felt a frown tugging at his lips, something off. Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned the other girl.
Roman stayed in the garden, sitting on a bench and examining the plants. He loved the garden, how beautiful and serene, and the garden loved him. He was sure, so hopefully sure, of that fact. The garden loved him in a different way, a special way that didn't expect special things from him, but knew he was special. The garden allowed him to wind down and appreciate it, because it would always be there. Roman could stay there forever.
Suddenly, Roman heard rustling in the trees. His head snapped up and he gazed out into the darkness. He stood and unsheathed his sword; he wasn't particularly supposed to have his sword on his person at the moment, what with its purpose being purely ceremonial. He had lessons, and he liked them, but that in itself seemed ceremonial as well. It seemed pointless to learn if he had guards around him all the time, though the only guard around now was inside the place entrance, and he couldn't see him.
Roman took a steady breath and stepped carefully towards the noise, his sword pointed. How amazing it would be to single-handedly stopped thieves or murderers from infiltrating the palace. He was finally far enough to see that the person was—
A feeling of horrible shock coursed through Roman's body, as it did through his finger when he touched a piece of metal after running around in his socks on the carpet. It ran rampant over his skin, though his blood, knocking him to the ground. He could taste bitter copper, though he couldn't make a move to stand. Whatever this was, it had paralyzed him with some kind of magic.
Roman was dazed, though he could hear indistinct voices. He twitched in fear, tried desperately to move, though nothing would work. His eyes were closed, seeing only a black world with strings of faint color. He felt his sword being lifted off him and placed back in its sheath; then there was a cold surface pressing against him, and he writhed against his kidnappers. They held him down, ignoring his cries for help.
Roman opened his eyes for a moment to see a whirl of color, blues and purples and pinks, along with a whole collection of stars brighter than anything he'd ever seen. He had a painting much like it in his bedroom, something he'd asked the painter to make him that wasn't, for once, a self portrait. It was so beautiful, the world around him, that he felt as though he were inside of it. Why had he faced such pain to see it? Was this heaven? Had he faced his final battle?
Roman closed his eyes again, tears racing down his cheeks and mixing with blood that had come up from being manhandled. The grip on his arm squeezed once more, and Roman felt himself black out from it all.