The Princess' Suitors

Strange Sensations

The following morning, things were bizarrely calm. Usually at least a couple of the suitors would attempt something in the early hours to try and catch them with their guard down. Such behaviour would be of no use to them, but it was definitely out of character for them to actually stop doing something that had proved so blatantly fruitless.

Usually, they were all stubborn and hard-headed, refusing to accept reality for what it was. They would repeat the same mistakes day in and day out until they were blue in the face with frustration at their failures.

Perhaps, Damaris contemplated, they were finally going to try something different. Perhaps they were planning and needed time to come up with something that they considered plausible and that they could all come to agreement on. A dangerous thought.

What would happen when large groups of idiots put their heads together to come up with some hair-brained scheme? Some half-witted plot steeped in its own shortcomings and overcompensations? Nothing good, that was for sure.

Their problem, collectively, as previously stated, was their egos, their overestimation of themselves. No matter what race or background they had, it seemed that the one thing that they all had in common was their pride and vanity.

Sure, in some situations, a high opinion of oneself could be necessary, deserved or even encouraged. However, it was not the case in this instance. Their egotism would be their downfall, had been their downfall, consistently, since the beginning, since the moment all of this started on Princess Winifred’s eighteenth birthday.

On the topic of the princess, she had awoken from her peaceful slumber at the c***k of dawn, gone down the tower to the kitchens to make breakfast for herself and Damaris, and had made her way back to the balcony where she tended to her garden.

She was weeding the flowerbeds, which were really more of a collection of large planters that lined the left half of the balcony wall. There were a small variety of wildflowers that grew there, along with some climbing ivy (that now ran up to the roof of the tower), and,at the far end near the middle and opposite the archway that lead to it, there was a rather impressive hydrangea that had bloomed a wonderful indigo shade, though there were a few flowers that had taken on a paler blue colouration.

The vegetables and herbs confined to the small greenhouse seemed to be faring well under the princess’ care. They had more than enough to season their food, concoct delicious soups and also to make herbal remedies if there ever came a need for such a thing.

She hoped that there wouldn’t be, but she wasn’t completely naive.

Winifred wiped her brow with the back of her wrist and pulled some wayward roots from the flowerbed, chucking them rather unceremoniously over the balcony. She huffed and pulled another and another until they were gone from her sight.

“You know they will simply grow in the ground at the bottom of the tower where you throw them?” Said Damaris.

“Yes, but they are no longer bothering my heather, my pyramidal orchids or my vervain. I do not want brambles choking my bluebells, my snowdrops or the daisies; I like the daisies. I do not like the brambles” Winifred complained as she justified her disdain. “They get everywhere, somehow, appear from seemingly nowhere and if you don’t get rid of them they take over everything.”

“Fair enough, dear princess. Better down there than up here. The same can be said for the other weeds that surround the keep.” Damaris replied, knowing full-well her implication, that the people were the weeds.

“Damaris, please. They are mostly here only because of that stupid curse. I know I will get a soulmate out of it eventually, but I cannot help but feel bad for the others who have been compelled to come here even though it will be fruitless.” Winifred chided and turned around to face her dragon companion.

“I have some exciting news on that point, actually.” Damaris said, taking the moment to change into her human form

“Well, don’t keep me waiting. What is the news?” Winifred prompted, a sparkle of interest in her eyes.

“There was a new Knight who came to the keep last night. I played with him a little to see what he was like. I could smell him from a decent distance and it was lavender and petrichor. He has been the only one to carry a real scent and I believe that could indicate his potential.” Damaris explained, barely containing a pleased smile.

“Damaris, sweet, wonderful Damaris, by playing do you mean that you swooped down at him, provoked him and batted him around a bit?” Winifred asked knowingly.

“Well when you say it like that, it sounds mean. I wasn’t too rough with him, he’s fine.” Damaris grumbled. “The fool didn’t bring a horse or tent though. He slept on a rock.”

“He slept on a rock all night?” Winifred looked a little horrified at the thought.

“It’s a shame he seems to be a bit foolish, but his eyes were kind. He is pure of heart. Do not fret, though, I kept watch over him from the tower as he slept, to make sure that none of the others would try to harm him while he rested.” Damaris assured.

“Alright, well then… What is his name? Did you ask?” Winifred was excited. She had always been rather bad at hiding how she felt, she wore it all on her sleeve.

“Sir William Loveday. A knight from your own kingdom of Evamere. He is fair-skinned, his hair is curly, light brown, and his eyes are warm hazel with a hint of green. So, he is handsome, at least.” Damaris knew that this was the information Winifred wanted to hear, something she could romanticise and look forward to seeing for herself.

“He sounds nice. I would like to know more about him. It is a pity that I cannot go to the bottom of the tower to speak with him, without risking the others trying to force their way in… I wish that I did not have to live with that kind of fear hanging over me, but I suppose, at the very least, it seems that my tenure with this curse may finally be coming to a close.” Winifred smiled, tired, but also a little hopeful.

It seemed that she could not allow herself to feel fully happy about this moment of progress, knowing in the back of her mind that it still may not be over. Some of her excitement left her as she processed the news, but she still seemed to have it bubbling under the surface.

Damaris hoped with all of her heart that this would work out for Princess Winifred. She had endured so much from seeing the men come and go from outside of the keep, she had seen the worst of them, the ones with the blackest hearts and then also the ones that could have been good people if not for the hold the curse had, compelling them to obsess over her.

It was then that Winifred frowned, tilted her head and bit her bottom lip in a look of discomfort and confusion.

“What’s wrong?” Damaris asked, worried.

“I don’t know, I just… I can feel this pulling sensation in my chest, like my heart is trying to escape me.” Winifred replied.

Damaris placed a hand on Winifred’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. She didn’t know what to do or what the tugging feeling could mean.

Suddenly, Winifred pulled away and ran to the other side of her chamber and stood at the edge of the large window, looking out onto the camps and the forest. Damaris followed after her, filled with concern for the princess’ safety.

“What are you doing?” She asked in a mild panic.

Standing on the edge like that, in full view of everyone in the camp below, was exceedingly dangerous when considering the state that some of the men had entered into in the past when they had managed to lay eyes on her.

“I feel something pulling me, I can sense something. I don’t know how to explain it, I just know that there is something or someone important down there.” Said Winifred.

“It is too dangerous to be near the edge. Everyone can see you.” Damaris tried to talk some sense to her. “You need to back away.”

“I need to see, Damaris, I need to see what’s pulling me. I can’t go until I know what it is.” She refused.

Damaris stood, hand on the hilt of her sword, with a nervous energy buzzing about. It felt too quiet. Surely someone from down in the camps would have noticed the princess, stood at her window in full open view by that point.

“Damaris, look out there, see if there is anyone new! Are there any significant scents or anything like last night? Something is amiss.” Winifred pleaded, something a little bit frantic edging into her tone.

Damaris ran to the balcony and turned back to her dragon form, curling back around to the front of the tower in record speed. She glared down at the camps, scanned the treeline vigilantly and with extreme focus.

At first she could see nothing out of the ordinary, but then, something in the treeline, no, someone in the treeline, perched in the branches and clad entirely in black. They were keeping themselves hidden away and it seemed that no one else had noticed their arrival. How Winifred had sensed them was beyond her, but maybe it had something to do with the curse.

It was hard to tell what the person looked like from where they were hiding, shrouded by the canopy of leaves that fell over and about the branches. What she could see was that they had silver gauntlets and shinguards, and a dark leather tunic over their jet-black robes.

“There is someone hidden in the trees. Someone new.” Damaris sniffed the air, trying to focus on the person in hiding through the smell of everyone else at the camp and especially through the overwhelming scent of lavender and petrichor. “It’s… it’s hard to make out under everything else, but his scent is of pine and fresh mint. Now that I can focus on it, it is also certainly a male.”

“I think he might be someone important,” Said Winifred. “I don’t know how I know that, but I can just… feel it.”

Damaris considered Winifred for a moment, took in the look on her face, concentrated, determined and curious. Damaris knew what that look meant: it meant that she would find a way to get what she wanted and so she could either get on board or get out of the way and keep watch while it happened.

There was no way that Damaris was going to step aside and let something ill-advised happen on a spontaneous impulse, so that meant that she was going to have to get on board with whatever Winifred wanted to do about that.

“I want to contact them. I want to learn about them properly.” Winifred said, turning her head away from the view of the clearing to look into Damaris’ eyes.

“Okay, write your letters, dear princess. I will deliver them for you as discreetly as I can.” Damaris agrees.

It was a tamer idea than she had been anticipating and she was glad of it. Judging by the wild look in the princess’ eyes, she was afraid that she would suggest leaving the tower to confront them herself.

So, Winifred stepped away from the window, at last, and went to her wardrobe to clean garments to wear, since she was done with the garden for the day and needed to rid herself of the grime that came with manual work.

“Heat some hot water for my bath?” Winifred asked, smiling cheekily.

“Forgot how to light a fire for the stove, have you?” Damaris retorted, smirking a little.

“I am but a feeble princess after all. My delicate wrists cannot lift the heavy kettle to the stove, let alone to the bath.” Winifred complained with sarcastic drama.

“You are dreadful, dear princess, but I shall grant your request. After all, there is no fire like dragon’s fire.” Damaris matched the princess’ tone.

She clambered around to the balcony and returned to her human form once more, meeting the princess with an expression of great amusement. This sort of banter was one of the many reasons why they had gotten along so well. They didn’t have to go about things with the constant stuffiness of formal speech and address.

It was a comfortable enough relationship that they could be more colloquial with each other, which, after living cooped up in a palace with all those expectations, was a breath of fresh air. Especially for Winifred. Damaris, at least, was able to rough-house and spar with her fellow dragons as their equal. A human princess certainly couldn’t be seen to be doing such things.

It was an odd juxtaposition. In one place, she was free to roam around but bound tightly by societal pressures and responsibilities, while in the other place, she was bound to one location but free to act and speak as she pleased.

She wasn’t sure which one of the two she preferred.

After her bath and a fresh change of clothing, Winifred got to work on her letters; one each for Sir William and the mysterious new arrival in the black. She wanted to learn his name, she wanted to know his story. She was curious about Sir William too, but she couldn’t deny the way her attention was naturally drawn to the black-clad stranger.