Chasing The Cure

Chapter 12: Flirt

Who is she?

Kenric's expression hardened as he stared at the woman in front of him. She did not shy away from his gaze, nor did she seem scared. This would have worried Kenric, but something told him that there was no malice in her question. Regardless of what her intent may or may not be, he could not tell her anything.

"No one. My heart belongs to no one," Kenric finally answered. Princess Eleanor did not look convinced, it seemed like she wanted to push more. But in the end, she simply sighed as she nodded.

"If you say so," she said. "Does that mean you are interested in the proposal?"

"Marriage has never been something that I have wanted to partake in. I am a soldier and my true love is my sword. I do not believe that I would be a very good husband," Kenric replied, almost mechanically as if he had said the same words thousands of times before, which he had.

"You realize that you might not have a choice in this matter?" She asked, her tone sharp. "What we want, what our heart wants, and whatever we might believe in is redundant. Our first and foremost duty is to the crown, to our kingdom and our subjects, and if this marriage...if this marriage brings peace then who are we to deny our people that? This could end wars and save lives."

"I will not be a pawn," Kenric stated with determination in his voice. "Not for anybody."

"Oh, Prince Kenric," the princess chuckled, an amused yet sad smile on her face. "We all are nothing but mere chess pieces in somebody else's game. The sooner you accept that, the better."

Kenric had no response. He knew that as much as he wanted to deny it, she was right. Being the prince sure had its perks, Kenric lived a life of luxury that others could only dream of. He had a soft cot to sleep on and never went hungry. He had all the riches that the world had to offer. But at the same time, he felt like his life was not his own. He had to do and say and act according to what was expected of him. He had to be strong. Be proper. Be royal.

He had to be a gentleman, a noble. And he also needed to be the barbaric warrior his kingdom needed. He needed to fight and win wars, he needed to be ruthless.

He had blood on his hands. So much blood that on some nights he had dreams about drowning in it. Crimson liquid so thick that he suffocated, clawing desperately for breath before waking up with his entire body covered in sweat and his chest pounding.

Had he been born as somebody else, would he have ever suffered such a fate? Would he see the faces of the men he had killed, ones of his brethren that he had lost in battles, all crying and screaming in agony?

Who knows?

Kenric retired to his chambers after his walk with Princess Eleanor. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally. He was so knackered that he passed out as soon as his head touched his pillow.

Archie kept on waiting for him. He stared at his door until his eyes began to ache. The stable boy could not get even a wink of sleep that night.

The next day, both the previously sick stable hands were back and Archie had some time to breathe between work. Though he was not sure whether that was a good thing or a bad one. He had caught a glimpse of Kenric when he was walking from the stables to the servant's quarters for breakfast, and lo and behold, he was with the princess.

The prince was so emersed in their conversation that he did not even notice that Archie was only a few feet away. Archie left quickly, walking as fast as his legs could carry him without running.

Archie rushed to his room, he grabbed his bow and quiver as he made his way to the forest. He needed to let his frustration out, and he knew just the right way to do it. He also needed to practice for the tournament, so two birds, one arrow.