"I thought I'd find you here, Princess," calls the knightess over hedges of roses. She approaches swiftly, weaving between bushes, and stops once she can just barely smell the princesses perfume.
The princess sighs, smiling abashedly, "I knew you'd catch me eventually. Please, would you allow me to linger a few moments longer?" As she looks on into the garden, she braces her folded arms along the balustrade, resting her chin atop them.
A crease worries Virginia's brow. "What troubles your royal highness?" inquires the Dame, sensing her doleful mood.
Angeline idly skims her delicate fingers over the petals below her. Abruptly, as if struck, she propels herself upright and away from the railing.
"I simply cannot reconcile with the fact that my freedom and happiness are to be won by some unknown, miserable oaf, gallivanting around with a sword," she seethes, "How am I meant to love someone who will surely only see me as a trophy to be won?" She spins on her heel, toward the fountain, knowing her Dame will follow.
So, she does, calmly following a few paces behind her princess. Virginia watches Angeline plant herself on the stone bench, and does not think to chide her when her sleeves dip into the water. They spend a long, pregnant minute lost in their thoughts, listening to the trickling of the fountain.
"Perhaps I should enter the tournament?" Virginia breaks the silence. Angeline jolts, mouth agape; turning to see Virginia's face downcast, flush from her neck to the tip of her ears, mouth drawn in a thin line and eyes screwed shut...
yves
he/hymn
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