Cold Feet vs Duty

The meeting erupts into chaos. As if the real threats weren’t enough, they’re now squabbling like children among themselves. Aster is on his feet, together with half of the others, words and accusations echoing through the room until his father slams both fists onto the table with enough force to stun everyone into silence. The expression on his face does the rest.

Not that he’s watching his father right now. Most of his focus is on Diane, her head still held high, back straight in the too-large chair. But the look on her face, in her eyes, breaks something in his chest. It’s because of him she’s here without the knowledge she needs. He’s not sure what his mistake was when finding her, but he’s sure it’s his fault that she looks so lost, heartbroken. Afraid. The buzzing in his head grows until he can barely hear his father’s voice. The noise is accompanied by a rage smoldering in the pit of his stomach, fueled by a bloodlust so intense it frightens him. Where is this coming from?

The shrill voice of the princess breaks through the buzzing and he bares his teeth at her, scowling. His skin is tingling as if he’s about to transform. With effort, he gets himself under control just as the princess storms out of the room, leaving it in blessed silence. The meeting goes on, but it’s hard to focus. Statistics. The number of soldiers and rations stationed along the wall and in the nearby villages. A new task force to locate any breaches in the wall, consisting of both wings and paws. More missing healers. More sightings of the robed mages spreading the curse. Nothing new. Nothing worse, but also nothing to bring hope. Except her.

As soon as the meeting is adjourned, he wants to go to her but is caught by one of the generals who asks questions about the state of the roads, the remaining strength of the villagers and farmers. He’s a good man, a good soldier, so Aster answers, being as brief as he can. When he finally excuses himself, Diane is gone, whisked away with Tenna’s arm protectively around her shoulders, presumably for her lessons in the healer’s quarters.

He doesn’t go to find her.

*

The following weeks go by quickly; there’s always something that needs doing. Training, reading and writing reports, patrolling. More Black bears have appeared on their side of the wall, but they have yet to find a breach. No cracks or tunnels have been found despite all their efforts. Instead, more trouble seems to get through. There are almost daily sightings of the robed mages, and several fields and orchards have had to be burned to the ground after being infected with the curse. If they don’t put a stop to it, food will be scarce this winter. And that isn’t the worst news. Two villages have been attacked by giant snakes, leaving just a handful of shocked, traumatized survivors.

Then there’s the wedding preparations. He hates it. All the fuss over small, insignificant details. Clothes. Bunting. Table cloths. Who cares about those when their world is dying?

The answer is obvious. Princess Aurelia, for one, and most of the young women around her. And according to rumours, the entire capital is following every frilly decision as if their lives depended on it. He’s just escaped another session of looking at fabrics for the wedding garments and hurries outside in the hope that the fresh air will help clear his head. And lighten his mood. Both the sun and the cool wind are refreshing, as is the clang of metal hitting metal as the soldiers practice their skills.

Unfortunately, it’s not enough to drive the princess out of his mind. It’s infuriating. The way she treats Diane, the Chosen, is unacceptable. Even worse than the fact that she refers to him as ‘that beast’ when he’s not around. As if being a shapeshifter is nothing but a gross inconvenience. Emphasis on gross. Then there are the inappropriate speculations about the upcoming wedding night. He can just imagine all the ‘beast in bed’ jokes she’s making. He’s seen her giggling with her maids as they watch him with sparkling eyes, blushing cheeks, and naughty smiles.

It shouldn’t bother him. Not the way it does.

Not far from him, his parents are walking close together. Probably inspecting the troops. Or simply boosting morale by being seen. They are deep in conversation, hands brushing against each other as they walk, as if that closeness and intimacy is the most natural thing in the world. Is it so wrong for him to wish for the same? Is he selfish for even considering his own happiness at a time like this? Yes. The answer must be yes. His duty as a protector of the realm is clear. Clear as the lines that tie him to the princess.

Beast and crown shall join as one

With chiming bells, seal the bond

He had been so sure. So ready to give his future to destiny, to give up his life for his country and its people if needed. Giving up potential marital happiness had seemed a minor sacrifice in comparison. Then. Now, acceptance becomes harder every day. But saving the country, and all those he loves, comes first. His duty is clear. No matter what happens, or what he may or may not be feeling he’s the chosen champion. 

Chosen. As if pulled by magnets, his eyes move to the other side of the courtyard. She’s there. Wearing a new, practical outfit that still looks so much more attractive than the posh dresses the princess flutters around in. Practicing with the bow his father had presented her with. From what he’s heard, she’s a natural, already showing exceptional skill. An arrow flies and silently embeds itself deep in the straw target.

Caught by the same magnetic force as his eyes, his feet take him closer, over the cobbled yard.

“Hey,” he says awkwardly.

“Hey, you too.”

“You’re getting good at that.“ He nods to the target, a cluster of arrows occupying its midst.

“I enjoy it,” Diane says, putting the bow down. “And it’s great for focus.” She looks up at him, a small worried frown on her face as she takes in his. “You look tired. I imagine you’ve been busy.” Too busy to spend time with her. Is there an accusation behind the words? He’s been busy, yes, but that’s not the main reason he’s stayed away.

“Yeah,” he says, nervously dragging his fingers through his hair, mentally kicking himself for his cowardice. “Always so much to do.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” Her voice and face grow colder. “It’s not as if I have a lot of spare time for socializing either.” She looks him up and down, professionally distant this time. “I’ve been experimenting with a rejuvenating spell. It’s proven to be rather efficient. When you grow tired of those bags under your eyes, you know where the hospital wing is. I’ll be happy to treat the chosen Champion.”

“I…” he starts, but she’s already turned away and raised the bow again. One hand smoothly pulling a featherbound arrow from the quiver on her back. “I’ll just leave you to your practice then.”

Diane mumbles something in reply before the arrow flies, this time missing its mark, sliding along the ground, disappearing into the grass. She swears and reaches for another one. Like the coward he is, he leaves anyway.

He’s taken her from her world, from her family. Brought her to this chaos. Risking her life. It’s no wonder that she doesn’t want to spend any more time with him than necessary for their prophesied roles. The deranged behaviour of his fiancée is certainly not helping either. Neither is her irrational jealousy and envy.

Diane is doing well though. Already an excellent archer, at least when he’s not there to disturb her. And the reports he’s getting from Tenna are all praising her progress. Her control is growing steadily, and she’s already discovered and implemented several new abilities. Apparently, she’s also loved by her patients. Tenna had made a point of telling him in person that Diane had gotten at least two marriage proposals from young men she’d healed. And that, besides those two, she has several smitten admirers. Not that he can blame them. She’s... special.

He pauses in the shade of a great tree, watching her. After a few failed shots, she’s getting her steady hand back. Golden brown hair tied in a thick braid, long enough to touch the wide belt that’s hugging her waist, letting the sleeveless tunic she’s wearing flow out around her hips. Emphasizing her curves, the softness of her body. The fabric almost reaches the top of her soft thigh-high boots. Almost. Giving him a glimpse of soft skin each time she moves. As if hypnotized, he watches her gloved hand reach for another arrow, then smoothly draw the string back in one graceful movement.

The soft thud as it hits the center of the target brings him back to his senses.

What’s wrong with him? Why is he even noticing these things? It isn’t like him, and it sure isn’t because he doesn’t have more important things to dwell on. He sighs, rubbing his temples. Maybe he should find Alder and suggest some sparring. To burn off some of these unwelcome feelings. Clear his head. Or better yet, his mother. Trying to keep up with her would definitely keep his mind from brooding. He is skilled with a sword, but she still kicks his ass every time they practice together.

He looks toward the castle, a maid is leaning out a window, waving at him. He’s probably late for another inane and time-consuming session of wedding planning. He pretends not to see her and instead goes to find his parents. The ancients know he needs a distraction. Or better yet, an intervention.