Work Text:
Jeremy sat opposite his father in the carriage, the silence between them nearly deafening. He turned his gaze toward the narrow window, watching as the endless line of evergreen trees slipped past, their dark forms blurring together as though time itself had slowed its march.
As he stared outward, his thoughts wandered to how he had come to be permitted on this journey at all.
“Father, please allow me to accompany you,” he had begged, standing near the desk where Johannes sorted through correspondence meant for Roberto, papers neatly arranged as preparations for the journey were made. “I promise I shall not be a burden. I only wish to ensure your safety.”
Jeremy had overheard the physician’s quiet discussion with his father days prior, as he went to check on him—an act that had become habit since his mother’s passing. Concern had rooted itself firmly in his chest. After countless objections and his unyielding persistence, Johannes had at last yielded.
“Very well, Jeremy…” Johannes had sighed, his gaze lowering to the soft fall of his son’s golden curls. He reached out and rested a hand upon his head, the gesture tender despite the weariness that weighed upon him, and offered a faint smile.
“Remember, this is no holiday,” he had said quietly. “It is meant for my repose. No foolishness, do you understand?”
Jeremy had nodded at once, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he looked up at his father. His complexion was pale and unhealthy, and his eyes—once sharp and discerning—now bore a dulled, distant gleam that unsettled him.
Now here Jeremy was—on a journey with his father at last.
The carriage lurched forward as it was pulled through the muddy forest path, the ride unbearably uncomfortable. Jeremy shifted in his seat, bracing himself against the jolts, and could not help but wonder how much worse it must feel for his father, who sat opposite him, gazing distantly out the window. Johannes’s attention seemed fixed on the passing evergreens, though his thoughts were clearly elsewhere.
Jeremy knew his father’s illness was far more serious than he allowed anyone to believe. At times, he wished Johannes would lean on him—if only a little. He was, after all, the heir of Neuschwanstein, soon to come of age. Since his mother’s death, he had noticed his father’s health steadily decline, even as Johannes continued to address him as though he were still a child. More and more, Jeremy feared his father would never trust him, never take him seriously.
He had trained relentlessly at Alberon, honing his skill with the sword, and had begun to apply himself to his studies with renewed discipline. Yet still, his father kept the truth from him, retreating further into distance and silence.
Lost in thought, Jeremy was startled when a sudden violent rattle shook the entire carriage. He straightened at once as the horses came to an abrupt halt.
“Whoa—whoa! Ah, gods above—”
The coachman’s shout rang out as the carriage lurched to a dead stop. Jeremy leaned toward the window, seeing nothing but the same dark evergreens and churned mud as before. Across from him, Johannes sat upright as well, pulled sharply back into the present.
“What is the meaning of this?” Johannes called out, his voice low and commanding despite its strain.
“My lord,” the coachman replied, his voice edged with nerves, “I fear the horse is exhausted. He’s not usually like this, but we’ve been trotting for quite some time, and the road has been unforgiving. I understand your lordship’s desire to reach your destination swiftly, but the sun will be setting soon. Might I suggest we stop for the night and continue at first light?”
The air within the carriage seemed to still. Jeremy glanced toward his father, noting the brief flicker of irritation that crossed Johannes’s features before it was swiftly masked. He sighed and ran a hand through his golden hair, curls falling forward as his gaze lowered.
After a pause that felt interminable to Jeremy, Johannes spoke. “Is there lodging nearby?”
“Yes, sir. Thankfully. There is a village not far from here. It is small, and the accommodations will be modest. The food likewise. It may not be entirely suitable for one of your lordship’s standing—or the young master—but the atmosphere is agreeable.”
As the coachman spoke, Jeremy noticed his father’s jaw tighten. Johannes gripped the seat beside him, eyes closing briefly as pain etched itself across his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose, steadying his breath, before lifting his head once more.
“Take us to the village,” Johannes said at last, his voice strained but resolute. He lifted a hand in dismissal.
The coachman bowed deeply. “As you wish, my lord.”
The coachman clicked the reins, and the carriage rolled forward once more. Soon, the trees thinned, giving way to the village the coachman had spoken of. When the carriage finally came to a halt at the village’s entrance, he turned in his seat and called back to them.
“What do you think, my lord? The village may appear shabby, but the mountains are breathtaking, are they not?”
A knight of their house stepped forward and opened the carriage door. Johannes rose stiffly from his seat and descended, and Jeremy followed close behind. Together, they took in the sight of the village. Jeremy glanced at his father, watching as Johannes’s eyes swept over their surroundings, his expression markedly unimpressed.
Jeremy, however, stepped away from his father’s side, his gaze lingering on the village with a far more generous eye.
“This is the village of Bretten,” the coachman continued. “An ordinary countryside settlement, to be sure—but the view is pleasant, at the very least.”
As Jeremy studied the village more closely, he began to notice its quiet beauty. The homes were modest, their age evident, yet nature embraced them generously. Greenery softened the wear of time, lending the place a charm he had not expected.
When he looked back to his father, his heart tightened. Johannes was standing rigid, his breathing shallow. Jeremy noticed the subtle hitch in his breath, the way his mouth drew tight as though he were suppressing pain rather than merely fatigue.
“Father, you should rest,” Jeremy said softly.
He reached for Johannes’s arm, his fingers closing gently around the fabric of his sleeve as he looked up at him with open concern. Johannes seemed to startle at the touch, as though pulled abruptly from a trance. He exhaled heavily and moved once more.
“Perhaps you are right…” Johannes murmured.
He lifted a hand and brushed it over Jeremy’s curls, though his gaze drifted beyond him—toward a wide field just beyond the village’s edge. Johannes’s face drained of color as he stared, his expression caught somewhere between shock and awe, as though he had glimpsed an apparition. He blinked rapidly, rubbing at his eyes, then turned his back on the field, his composure returning with visible effort.
“Jeremy, I am going to rest at the inn,” he said. “I believe the travel has unsettled my mind.”
A bitter, breathless laugh followed, and unease crept deeper into Jeremy’s chest. His eyes flicked over his shoulder toward the field, then back to his father.
“I’ll go with you,” Jeremy insisted.
Johannes stopped him at once, lifting an arm to bar his path. He shook his head and looked down at his son, his expression firm despite the weariness beneath it.
“No. Go and explore. Look around,” he commanded. “I require some time alone.”
Jeremy hesitated, then reluctantly obeyed. Johannes’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer.
“Remain within sight of the knights,” his father added. “And return before the sun sets. I will go ahead to rest.”
With that, Johannes turned and made his way toward the inn, his steps slow but resolute. Jeremy stood where he was, watching his father’s retreating figure until it disappeared from view. Only then did he allow himself another glance toward the open field beyond the village.
Jeremy sighed and returned briefly to the carriage to retrieve his sword, reasoning that if he was to wander, he might as well make use of the time. Even working on form alone would be better than standing idle with his thoughts. With the familiar weight of the hilt settled at his side, he made his way toward the open field.
The grassy plain stretched wide before him, rippling under the steady sweep of the wind. From somewhere in the distance came the faint murmur of voices—laughter, perhaps, or idle conversation. Then Jeremy stopped short.
His breath caught as his gaze fixed upon her.
For a moment, he thought his eyes were deceiving him. He rubbed them, blinking hard, only to find the vision unchanged. A girl sat ahead, her long pink hair swaying gently in the breeze, catching the fading sunlight like spun silk. She lifted her hand in farewell to another girl of similar age, who soon disappeared back toward the village.
Jeremy approached slowly, each step cautious, as though moving too quickly might shatter the illusion. He stopped again, resting his sword against his hip.
“Perhaps my mind, too, has been unsettled,” he murmured to himself.
He continued forward, careful not to disturb her. The last light of the setting sun cast a warm glow across her skin as she stared ahead, seemingly lost in thought. But just as he drew nearer, a branch snapped beneath his boot.
At once, her head turned.
There she was.
Her eyes—bright green, the lightest shade he had ever seen met his. Jeremy had seen countless green eyes in his life; his own family prided themselves on their emerald hue. Yet hers were unlike any he had known, bright and clear, as though lit from within.
He cursed softly under his breath, lifting a hand to rake his fingers through his golden curls. Forcing a small, awkward smile, he inclined his head.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” he said gently. “I was trying not to disturb you. You looked… deep in thought.”
The girl studied him in silence. Her features were youthful, yet there was a quiet maturity to her expression—soft lines touched by the first bloom of adolescence. She rose slowly to her feet, brushing grass from her skirts, her gaze never leaving him.
She regarded him for a moment longer before speaking, her voice calm, though edged with curiosity.
“You needn’t apologize,” she said. “I was not startled—only surprised. It is rare to see strangers wander into the fields.”
Her gaze flicked briefly to the sword at his side, then returned to his face. “Are you a soldier?”
Jeremy shook his head at once. “No. Not yet, at least.” He hesitated, then added, “I am training.”
She seemed to accept this, nodding faintly as the wind tugged at a strand of her hair. “Then this must be a place you’ve come to think,” she said. “Or to escape.”
The words struck closer than he expected. He exhaled softly. “Perhaps both.”
A small, almost amused smile curved her lips. “I find the fields useful for that as well.”
Encouraged, Jeremy shifted his weight, careful not to appear imposing. “I’m Jeremy,” he offered. “I am only visiting. My father required rest, and I was… given time to occupy myself.”
Her expression softened at that, as though she understood more than he had said. “Then we are alike,” she replied. “I often come here when the village feels too small.”
She glanced toward the distant rooftops, then back to him. “My name is Shuri.”
“Shuri,” Jeremy repeated softly, the name lingering on his tongue. His emerald-green eyes met her bright ones for the briefest moment before he cleared his throat.
“So, Shuri… what do you think about when you come here?” he asked, feeling an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. He scolded himself inwardly as he waited for her reply—why was he behaving like such a fool in front of her?
Noticing his unease, she smiled and let out a quiet chuckle.
“Oh, I come here to dream,” she said lightly, “and to wish, sometimes. Often, my friend and I come to escape chores.” For a fleeting moment, her expression turned almost childlike before she straightened again.
She studied him more closely then. “You speak very…” She paused, a small smile tugging at her lips as her eyes lingered on his. “Refined, I suppose that is the word.” A soft laugh followed when she saw the way his expression shifted in surprise. “Are you from the capital?”
Jeremy exhaled, shaking his head as he laughed under his breath. “You are observant,” he admitted, “but I would not say I am from the capital.”
He knew better than to offer his title to a stranger—even one as captivating as she was. The realization made him stiffen, and he quickly shook his head, as though the thought itself embarrassed him.
“I am merely a knight in training, my lady,” he said, offering a playful bow, the sort a knight might give a noblewoman.
The gesture drew a soft giggle from her, which she tried—and failed—to hide behind her hand. A faint blush warmed her cheeks before she dismissed it with a gentle sigh.
“Well,” she said at last, regaining her composure, “then I suppose I am honored to meet such a courteous knight.”
Jeremy failed once again to regain his composure, his ears flushing slightly at the tips. Shuri, sensing his unease, gracefully fell back into the soft grass, no longer intimidated by his presence. She patted the spot beside her, inviting him to join her as she turned to watch the setting sun.
“You may join me if you like, Ser Jeremy,” she said softly, addressing him by a knight’s title even though he was merely in training. Jeremy, a boy of twelve, felt his heart thundering wildly in his chest. He carefully sat beside her, placing his sword on the ground on the opposite side of him.
“Besides being a knight,” she asked, her eyes glancing at him gently, “do you have any other great dreams?”
Jeremy swallowed hard, acutely aware of how close she was. “No… not necessarily,” he admitted. “I’ve always wanted to be a knight and protect my family for as long as I can remember.” He let out a small sigh, then fixed his emerald-green eyes on hers. “What about you, Shuri?”
Her own eyes brightened slightly, unaccustomed to anyone asking her about her dreams—or about herself, for that matter. “Don’t laugh, but I want to be a merchant… open a little shop somewhere far from here,” she confessed, a childlike smile touching her lips and reaching her eyes. She watched him carefully, waiting for a sign of mockery or dismissal—the kind her mother often gave when she spoke of such things. “It’s silly, isn’t it?”
Jeremy smiled warmly, leaning slightly toward her. His breath brushed her ear as he spoke softly, “No, that isn’t silly at all. I would certainly buy from you.” His words made her heart skip a beat. “It’s good to have dreams, Shuri, so don’t sell yourself short,” he added, grinning brightly. His green eyes shone, and the setting sun caught his golden curls, making them gleam like spun gold.
As the sun sank lower and the sky turned amber, they spoke quietly about life and their families. Jeremy tried to give as little information as possible, yet he could not help but talk to this beautiful, passionate girl. His chest ached with a silent longing. Would he ever see her again after this day? The mere thought of never speaking to her again brought him both sadness and frustration.
“Shuri… may I ask your last name?” he ventured. Her expression shifted from surprise to a small, bright smile.
“Shuri Ighofer!” she said, fully introducing herself with pride. Her gaze lingered on him. “And you? What is your last name?”
Jeremy’s heart skipped a beat. He let his fingers drift through the grass, sighing deeply before lowering his head. “It’s Jeremy Von Neuschwanstein,” he admitted. “I know I lied, Shuri… but I did not want to be treated differently.”
A soft curl of hair fell over his eye as he looked at her, partially hiding his expression. Shuri reached out gently, brushing the curl aside with tender fingers.
Shuri did not pull away.
Instead, her fingers lingered where they had brushed the curl from his face, her touch light, almost reverent. She studied him quietly for a moment, her expression thoughtful.
“So,” she said at last, softly, “that is why you speak the way you do.”
Jeremy’s shoulders tensed, bracing himself. “I did not mean to deceive you,” he said quickly. “Only… I wanted to be Jeremy here. Not a name. Not an expectation.”
Her lips curved into a small smile. “Then I am glad,” she replied. “Because Jeremy is who I met.”
He looked up at her then, surprise flickering across his face.
“Titles are heavy things,” Shuri continued. “They make people bow when they would rather speak. They make words careful instead of honest.” She shrugged lightly. “I prefer honesty.”
Relief loosened the tight knot in his chest. “You are not angry?”
She shook her head. “No.” Then, teasingly, “Though you could have trusted me sooner, Ser Jeremy.”
A quiet laugh escaped him, soft and breathless. “I suppose I am still learning.”
The sun dipped lower, casting the field in hues of amber and rose. For a time, they sat in companionable silence, the world narrowing to the space between them. Jeremy listened to the sound of her breathing, to the distant hum of the village, and felt something settle deep within him—something warm and frightening all at once.
“I think,” Shuri said suddenly, “that you will be a very good knight someday.”
He turned to her. “And I think,” he replied, equally soft, “that you will have your shop. Somewhere far from here. Somewhere people seek out just to hear you speak.”
She smiled at that, truly smiled, and leaned her head back to watch the sky darken.
“Then promise me something,” she said.
“What is it?” he asked.
“If you ever return to Bretten,” she said, glancing sideways at him, “you will come find me. Even if you are no longer just a knight in training.”
Jeremy swallowed, his young heart pounding. “I promise.”
As the amber sky deepened into dusk, the bell of the village rang behind them, making Shuri jump to her feet, her expression briefly panicked.
“I… I’m sorry I have to leave so suddenly,” she said, brushing at her skirt with a nervous smile as the wind caught her hair. “My mother will be angry if she doesn’t know where I am.”
Jeremy rose as well, stepping closer. Gently, he tucked a stray lock of her pink hair behind her ear. Their eyes met, holding one another for a moment, and Jeremy felt his cheeks flush, a warmth spreading across him. Shuri’s cheeks mirrored his own.
“Your hair… it was in your face,” he murmured, a nervous half-smile tugging at his lips.
Shuri smiled softly, her fingers brushing against his hand in response. “Thank you, Ser Jeremy,” she said teasingly, and their laughter mingled with the whisper of the evening wind. She exhaled, sighing as she glanced back toward the village.
“Remember your promise—you will find me if you come back,” she added, the words carrying more of a demand than a request, her nose scrunching slightly in a way that reminded Jeremy of a pouting little bunny.
“I did promise that, didn’t I?” Jeremy replied, his tone teasing, but his emerald-green eyes held a fierce pride, like a young lion guarding something precious. His hand lingered against her cheek for just a heartbeat longer.
Shuri huffed softly, turning her gaze back to the path ahead, her chest strangely heavy though she could not say why. “I’ll see you later…” she murmured, stepping back with one final, bright smile. Then, she ran toward the village, her pink hair streaming behind her in the wind. Halfway down the path, she paused, glanced over her shoulder, and waved goodbye.
Jeremy raised his hand in return, watching her disappear into the distance. A small, persistent pang tugged at his chest—an ache he could not quite name. All he knew was this: he would find her again. Even if she did not remember him, he would never forget the pink-haired girl with the sparkling green eyes.