He was young-looking, possibly in his late teens or early twenties. He was handsome, too, with wavy brown hair that hung about his shoulders, deep blue eyes, dark as the sea surrounding the New United Kingdom in the middle of the night with only the moon and the stars to brighten it a little, giving an an eirie and mysterious look. He had freckles covering his youthful face and a nice, wide smile, with a small gap in between his two front teeth. He was wearing a suit and tie, and nice, new, shiney dress shoes as if he were going somewhere very importanat. And while no else knew it, he was. The young lady standing before him wore a long, glittering jade dress, black high heels, and a silver tiara on top of her perfect blonde bun. She had two curls hanging down on each side of her face, brown eyes looking up into his, and a small smile playing at the edges of her painted-pink lips. He bent down on one knew, pulled a small black box out of his back pocket, and asked, "Will you marry me?"
She put her hand to her mouth and giggled. "Of course I will," she said with a smile. She gave him her hand and he slipped on the diamond ring and then she pulled him to his feel and enveloped him in a giant hug. "I love you," she whispered into his ear.
"And I love you," he whispered back. "But what will we tell our parents?"
"We'll tell them that you're 19 and I'm 18 and it's not the twenty-first century anymore. We can make our own descions." She smiled. "Besides, why would I be the Crown Princess if not to disobey my parents will? They aren't very smart, you know."
"So you've told me."
"Well, it's true. They only married each other for money and power, not for love. But we love each other. And that is the only reason to marry someone."
"Yes, dear. It is." He leaned down and she lifted her head. They brought their lips together and kissed, gently at first, then they pressed harder, moving together. His hand found the back of her head and her hand found his cheek. They didn't stop until they heard a soft voice behind them.
"Dair?" his five-year-old sister, Cassandra, squeeked, looking up at them from the vantage point of her chubby little legs.
"Oh, hey, Cass," he said, looking at his bride-to-be.
She looked down at the child, frowning. "Get her out of here. What is she even doing here? I thought you said we'd be safe here. You said nobody else knew about this place. You lied to me!"
"No, no, I didn't mean . . . I'm sorry." He turned to his sister and snapped, "Go home."
Cass pouted, on the brink of tears, but turned and did as she was told. She loved her brother and respected him. She wanted him to love her, too. Even though she was young she understood the concept of love. She also understood the concept of mistrust. She knew that her brother loved that lady, and she knew that she mistrusted her.
She climbed a tree to watch from afar as her brother and the Crown Princess began to talk once more, expressing their love for one another.
Her brother and the Princess hugged once more, then she said, "Oh, I can't wiat until we're married and can have children."
"Do you want sons or daughters?"
"Two boys," she said with a smile, "so they can grow up to be just like their daddy."
"That's the same reason I want girls," he said, kissing her on the cheek.
She smiled and blushed. "You're too kind. I don't know how I'll bear living with you if you're going to be so nice to me all the time."
"Would you rather me be rude?"
"I suppose not."
They smiled and made eyes at each other. Cass, sitting in her tree, sighed. If this was what love was, she didn't want any part of it, ever. She watched her brother and the Princess walk away, toward New Buckingham Palace, and then climbed out of her tree and headed for home.
Little did she know, she would not see her brother again for 11 long years.
