The Garden
The little girl was tired of running around the kingdom garden. She held the hand of old Miriam and requested her to take to somewhere else, outside the castle. Miriam tried to resist her at first but looking at the girls longing eyes she had to arrange a trip outside the capital. They reached a place in the outskirts of the capital, it was a valley covered with beautiful dandelion flowers, there stood a tall beautiful ash tree in the middle of the valley. The girl seemed to like the place and ran towards the tree. Old Miriam tried to catch her but she was as lively as a squirrel. The girl stopped abruptly near the tree, there sat someone eating fruits under the cool shade of the leaves. The boy didn’t seem to take notice of her, his hair was silky, neatly wavering backwards with a little brownish texture.
“Can I have them?” the girl said while looking at the wild flowers.
The boy was thunderstruck as he took notice of her. He immediately sat on one knee, curled his hands against his chest and repeated “Princess Elowen!”
Elowen commanded him to stand upright and then with a gentle smile approached to the boy. “What’s your name?” She asked.
“Arthur miss” replied the boy still gazing downwards.
“Oh! You ought be the son of master Marcus don’t you?”
“Yes! Descendant of the most faithful commander of this kingdom.” Arthur replied.
“Cant I have those fruits Arthur?” she replied while her gaze was fixed towards them.
Arthur pushed the fruits backwards, saying “No miss, royal standard foods are ready for you and you must have them”
“But I don’t like them” she said wearily.
Old Miriam reached to them gasping for air. “Now miss! I must take u back to the castle and never allow you to exit from there as a punishment to this mischief.”
“No Miriam I just wanted to have those fruits for me”
“Take one and leave at once” Miriam ordered.
Elowen gasped one fruit and gave a sweet smile towards Arthur, “we would meet again.” she smiled and turned away. He waited patiently looking at her a second longer than usual, quietly taking in the way her smile settles afterward soft, genuine, and a little bit contagious.
1
Months passed away and it rather took Miriam off-guard that her miss had confined herself in her room for the evenings. One day she could not resist her curiosity and entered into the room of Elowen without her permission and was astonished to see that her room was vacant. She kept it a secret and sat beside the fire place in the drawing room waiting for her to return. At last when Elowen climbed down the stairs for dinner, Miriam took her aside and with a tone vexation asked her about her secret departure from the castle. She was shocked and held Miriam’s hand calmly, “Promise me you wont spill a word to father”,
“Depends upon the word”, Miriam said abruptly.
“You remember Miriam about the day when we met Arthur, son of master Marcus. Since then I haven’t forgot about the place, the dandelion flowers, the ash tree they all call me in my dreams. I thought you wouldn’t allow me to visit the place again for my mischief so I used to escape through my door spending my fortune to the castle gate guard.” She said with a steady voice.
“Perhaps the person might be the subject of your attraction rather than the place. You know its wrong to make bond with a low born and the knight would be punished for your evil mischief.” Miriam’s voice was staunch.
“No! Dear please don’t do it, its rather mere friendship than attraction. He shares with me his thoughts and ideas which seems to interesting than my usual teaching. He even promised to teach me sword play.” Elowen uttered helplessly.
“I don’t know miss, it should be immediately abandoned”
“Oh! Then provide me some medium of communication then” Elowen became restless.
Since then the secret meeting of the two friends stopped but continued through letters.
Each spring, during patrol along the orchard walls, Arthurwould notice her watching from the balcony, curiosity replacing childhood mischief. She would send letters to the guards, and he would enjoy reading them and replying them. In the letters, she asks him about distant battles; he writes gently, sparing her harshness. With time their conversations linger longer than duty allowed. In months, their glances held unspoken understanding, the quiet certainty that what has grown between them will someday become true feelings.
2
12 consecutive years passed, William IV has become old and nearing its end. Arthur’s father passed on 5 years ago and hence is now the commander general of the empire. Though Elowen had shared some administrative power from her father, her authority still remained artless. Everybody now see Elowen as the next empress and hence is required to meet casual personalities to gain popular support among the common folk , she is constantly dragged into meetings and severe decisions. Arthur being the commander general of the emperor had the luck to see his friend quite frequently, they shared their thoughts in secrecy and their bond revamped over time.
Presently, a war was being waged in the boundaries of the empire and hence all the generals along with Elowen was busy in official work . Though one evening she retired in the palace garden for some fresh air. The courtyard was quiet in that hour before dusk, when the sky still held its breath between gold and indigo. She sat by the marble balustrade, fingers lightly resting against the cool stone, as though it alone understood the weight she carried. Someone approached without armor’s clamor, though wearing it still. Even in silence, its presence announced itself, steady and familiar.
Elowen immediately ordered her accompanied maids to leave and fetch her some fresh water. The maids left.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said softly, not turning. “If someone sees…”
“They will see a soldier obeying the path laid before him,” Arthur replied. “Nothing more.”
A faint smile touched her lips, though it never reached her eyes. “You’ve always been good at walking the lines drawn for you.”
“And you,” he said, stepping closer but not too close, “have always stood just beyond them.”
She turned then, just enough for him to see the question she would ask. “Tomorrow… you leave.”
“At dawn.”
The word lingered between them, heavier than either intended.
“The borders are restless,” she continued, as if reciting from a scroll. “The kingdom needs its bravest.”
And its wisest remains behind,” he answered, his gaze fixed somewhere just past her, as though meeting her eyes might unravel something carefully held together. A breeze passed, stirring the loose strands of her hair. He resisted the urge to reach out, to fix what the wind had undone.
“I heard,” she said after a pause, “that the northern skies are clearer this time of year. Fewer clouds.”
“They are,” he said. “At night, the stars… they feel closer. As if you could almost touch them.”
“Then you mustn’t forget to look up,” she murmured. “It would be a shame to miss something so constant.”
“I won’t,” he said quietly. “Not if I know someone else is looking at the same sky.”
Their eyes met then, briefly, carefully, like two people testing the edge of something forbidden.
“You should not speak in riddles before you go,” she said, a trace of teasing in her voice, though it wavered. “It’s inconvenient.”
“Only because plain words are… less forgiving.”
She looked away first. “Plain words are dangerous.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “They tend to stay.”
Another silence fell, but this one was softer, almost tender.
“You should go,” she said at last. “The maids must be returning”
“And you should return inside,” he replied. “The evening air grows cold.” Though neither moved. After a moment, Arthur reached into his glove and drew out a small, unremarkable thread, blue, the color of twilight. He placed it on the stone between them, not touching her.
“For luck,” he said. “Or for remembering… trivial things.”
She glanced at it, then at him. “You’ve never believed in luck.”
“Perhaps I’ve started to.”
Her fingers hovered over the thread before finally taking it, as though accepting something far greater.
“Then I hope,” she said softly, “that it serves you as well.”
He gave a slight nod, the closest he dared come to a farewell. “It already has.” Footsteps echoed faintly from the corridor beyond. The moment thinned.
“Safe travels,” she said, her voice steady now, carefully composed.
“Steady reign,” he replied. He turned first, as duty demanded. She watched him go, counting each step until he disappeared into shadow. Only then did she press the thread into her palm, holding it tightly, as if, in doing so, she could keep something from slipping too far away. Above them, the first star appeared, quiet and constant.
The maids returned and served Elowen water to drink. “Miss, Master calls you in his room” the maid said. Elowen stood up stealthily hiding the thread in her hands.
