Queen's Light

An Escape

Note: this takes place before the Spring Ball.

~~~

It was very rarely not a beautiful day in the northern kingdom.

Today the weather was especially generous. The sun shone warmly over the kingdom, though it was far from sweltering. Larks and jays chirped from their nests in the cherry trees, and there was not a cloud in the sky to be seen.

The Queen gazed over her balcony's edge, looking out over the busy city. All people of all classes were hard at work. Even the scholars' quarter was filled with scribes who just could not seem to avoid the mellow atmosphere that day.

She watched as merchants -- hazy outlines from her point of view but still visible -- came and went from the city's open gates. She could see the townsfolk bustling through thick crowds in the market square as sellers cried out their wares. Street performers attracted small crowds of people of all ages and backgrounds, dazzling them with their talents and earning a few coins in return. Higher up, closer to the castle, the court nobles dashed about, managing their various businesses and organizing events she would no doubt be invited to. Some of them caught her watching, and nodded respectfully in her direction. She returned their gesture with a gentle lift of her hand.

Gazing out into the market square, she could see a small band of bards making merry with their music in a conspicuous corner. Two small children danced giddily before them, muses in the making. Rhiannon smiled in spite of herself. She turned to glance at the stone-walled castle surrounding her. Most days, the walls hardly bothered her. But every once in a while, they seemed to be suffocating her. Today, it seemed, was one of those days.

She sighed, brushing her hands through the velvet of her dress. Nothing urgent required her attention in the palace today. Perhaps no one would notice her absence.

She swept inside, closing the doors to the balcony behind her. Her hands flew up to her hair, scrabbling to take out pins and beads and elastics. She shook out her hair, relishing the feel of its freedom. Her dress was easy enough to remove, as she had requested all her dresses to button up the side so that she could dress herself.

In her wardrobe was a plain set of a tunic and pants, along with a hooded cape. She dressed herself in these commoner's clothes, then used the cloth beside her washbasin to scrub the powders from her face. As always, she surprised herself by looking in the mirror afterward.

Somehow, under all of that finery, she was still herself.

Tugging the hood of her cape around her ears, she slipped out of her chambers, heading towards the hardly-used north wing of the castle.

"Going somewhere, my Queen?"

Rhiannon froze. Of course it had to be Conri. She turned to face the Knight. Conri arched a brow.

"Say nothing," said Rhiannon.

The Knight smiled crookedly. "What on earth are thou talking about, Your Majesty?"

Rhiannon, catching on to Conri's ruse, inclined her head in gratitude, then quickly strode away and out of the castle.

Pulling her hood tightly about her face, she exited through the south gate, where the guards were more lax and likely not to notice a cloaked commoner dashing by. The fresh air was even more breathable on the ground than it had been in her balcony. She filled her lungs with it, enjoying its taste.

She made her way through the nobles' district with her head down, allowing her hair to curtain her face and keep her hidden. Though the chances of any of the resident lords and ladies spotting her and recognizing her were slim, Rhiannon didn't want to take any chances.

She could tell she was getting closer to the market when the crowds began to thicken. The smell of smoke and baked bread wafted through the air, reminding her of late summer.

She spent most of the day there, wandering the shops, smiling at their sellers, letting them gush to her about their wares. At one point in her mindless browsing, she caught the eye of one of the minstrels, and he seemed to wave her over with his gaze. She watched, enraptured, as his light fingers expertly danced over the strings of his life as easily as the dancer before him performed a tricky step of quick footwork. With a smile, Rhiannon dropped a few coins into the upturned hat by the minstrel's feet, receiving a bow from the lutist as she straightened.

It was days such as this when she was reminded of her responsibility. These people were the ones she looked after. Her kingdom was made of more than just names and numbers scrawled onto parchment. These were people, with lives as intricate and real as her own. It was humbling to be among them, even for a few hours.

Soon the light in the sky began to dwindle, and most of the shopkeepers began to pack away their things. The market goers cleared out, and Rhiannon knew she ought to be returning to the castle herself.

On the road back, she passed by an old, squat little building whose windows were bathed in golden candlelight as lively music emanated from within. She peered through the glass, seeing a tavern. Bar patrons rowdily drank and conversed, while a few bards played in a corner. It seemed like ages since she'd been in a tavern. Almost without realizing it, she found herself wandering in.

No one paid her any mind. She skirted around the walls to snag a seat at the bar. Two men were having a heated discussion beside her, and though she couldn't decipher what it was about, she caught the words "chicken" and "children" somewhere in their impassioned words.

"What'll it be, madam?"

The bartender had spotted her and come over. She stared at him for a moment, stunned, but recovered quickly. "Nothing for me, thank you."

The bartender nodded, then returned to his station.

Breathing in, Rhiannon could almost taste the bitter ale of the bar patrons. She'd never really had the stomach for ale that strong, and much preferred her array of tea flavors to alcohol. She traced a groove in the wood of the bar, mind wandering.

"Well, well, well," said a gruff voice beside her. "Look what the cat's dragged in."

Rhiannon glanced up, seeing that the two men who had been passionately debating chickens earlier were now eyeing her. "Can I help you, sir?"

The man laughed, quite rudely. "She's got manners, too, eh? Tell me your name, sweethear'."

Rhiannon smelled an ulterior motive. "My name's of no concern to you."

"Oh, come off it now. No need to keep a stick up yer arse."

"And there's no need for you to say crass things like that to a stranger."

The man raised a thick brow. "S'at so, eh?" He looked as if he wanted to say more, but to Rhiannon's relief he turned back to his drink and kept quiet.

Sighing, she stood, heading back out. The sun was almost gone. She needed to be back.

Ah, but it was good to escape.