Armula was looking at the gilded knight riding atop his gilded horse. They were slowly making their way up the hill to where her house sat, perched comfortably between two white birch trees. Her father, Alsam, was leaning on the tree to the right, his shirt wet with sweat and his many ringed fingers slack.
"Who is it?" he beckoned to her.
"A gilded knight, father." she replied, tilting her head to peer curiously at the massive horse.
"They're all bloody gilded nowadays, be more specific."
Armula was not sure how to be specific with this particular knight, as he was wearing livery that she could not recognize- purple and blue. The knights she has seen had only worn green and yellow, and by far less intricate armor and cape.
"Hmmm..." she began. "Well, he looks rather dashing in purple and blue. That cape as well, I have never seen one so large and impractical."
"Did you say purple and blue?" came the unusually surprised query of her father.
"Yes, purple and blue. And the large cape."
"Curse the cape! That man is the prince!"
Her father was walking quite quickly to meet the surprise prince on the path. Armula, being surprised herself, followed numbly after her father.
"Um, father?"
"Hush! I will handle this."
Alsam waved to the prince who was now only four yards away. The prince acknowledged him with a wave of his own.
"Ho, the man in wet rags!" the prince hollered.
Armula had noted the deep loud bass of the prince's voice, she felt an odd affinity for him, like the warmth and decisiveness of his tone gravitated people towards him through sheer personality. It was the voice of a leader.
"You purple arsehole, what are you doing here!" shouted her father in a tone not befitting of one who is addressing their prince.
"Fathe-"
"You selfish, egotistic, psychopath, you'll get us all killed!"
Armula was very distressed by her father's behaviour and was actively trying to get him to stop, clinging now to Alsams arms trying to pull him back from lunging at the prince.
"Father what are you doing!" she whispered desperately to no avail, he was
still staring daggers at the prince.
"Why, this must be the rudest bunch of peasants I have ever encountered on my journey!" piped the prince
"I am very sorry, my prince" pleaded Armula. "My father has hit himself on the head it seems, please forgive him."
The price had a cartoonishly exaggerated frown on his lips.
"No! No! No! This will not do!" the prince replied, punctuating every no with a slap on his armored thigh. "This calls for an execution... yes, an execution!"
"Conno-" Armula slapped a hand over her father's mouth
"Please, my prince I beg you spare my father's life, I- I will make sure he learns his lesson, so- so please do not execute him!" Armula pleaded desperately. Her head was spinning, it was all happening way too fast.
Alsam broke free of her hands and gripped them so she could not move them.
"Connor, you prick!"
"Father!"
Armula, horrified, turned to look at the no doubt angrier prince... and found him hiding behind his hands, snickering.
"W-what? What is happening?"
"Stay behind me, Armula." her father said sternly. "Bastard." he said to the prince.
The prince, still shaking a bit, breathed deeply and said: "Hello to you too, Sammy."
"Don't 'hello' me, what are you doing here?"
"Now, now. That's no way treat an old friend."
"Friend? After all I've endured of you, do you really expect me to call you friend."
"That's not fair, Sammy-old-boy, we endured those together, and I think that qualifies for friendship."
"Unfortunate that. And it is 'Alsam' not 'Sammy!'"
"Alright, 'Alsam' whatever you say. So how have you been?"
"Eh, could be worse— no, do not change the subject, why are you here!"
"Will you at least invite in your home?"
Alsam gave him a hostile look.
The prince sighed.
"I'd rather not tell you where the trees
might hear." the prince said.
Alsam sighed.
"Come in then, tie that horse to the post over there. Armula,"
Armula, who has went through several revelation in the past few minutes was staring inwards blankly, her face a chiseled mask of confusion. Her father knew the prince? The prince knows her father? The prince was wanting to come into their house? The prince's cape was not entirely impractical???
It's true. While the prince dismounted, his long flowing cape had shortened, retracting into itself seamlessly. It must be magic, it must be.
"Armula!"
Her father's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
"Y-yes. Please do come in, my prince."
"Thank you."
The prince looked at her with warmth in his eyes. He smiled, and Armula thought she might die. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, but it was not by a measure of beauty, though the prince was handsome. Tall with dark curly hair, reflecting white and sometimes blue if the light hit right.
It was more than that, it was feeling of longing so potent, it was suffocating.
There was a certain familiarity in which he moved, confortable and easy, his left hand already holding a cup which Armula had filled by instincts she didn't know she had.
The prince must have noticed her suprise for he beckoned her to sit and said: "All will be explained, just wait a bit while I sort this out," and he winked.
Again, Armula thought she might die, but at the same time was very comfortable with the situation, with him.
Alsam had entered the house finally.
"Thanks for that." said the prince.
To which Alsam only replied with a sigh and muttered: "...doesn't know how to tie a knot, what kind of a bloody knight..."
"Armula, stay outside." her father ordered, but the prince objected.
"No, let her stay."
"Connor,"
"It is vitally important that she-"
"No! It'll ruin everything!"
"Ruin what?" Armula asked her father.
"Ruin what, father?"
"It is not something you need to know, Armula."
"What is it I do not need to know! You have kept nothing from me, I thought I had at least earned enough respect to have your trust father."
"This is not about that, Armula." her father said gently. "Please, go outside."
"No."
"Armula..."
"What does he want and what does it have to do with me?"
Alsam was silent, his eyes reflected the conflict happening inside them.
"As you can see, my friend, there is no stopping it, no stopping her." the prince said with a bit of amusement.
"Shut up!" Alsam said. "This can still be salvaged, if you take off now we might- this might still work."
"I want my wife back, Alsam."
...
The small room was silent. The prince's eyes determined, bore a hole through Alsam's conflicted ones. He tried one last time to deter the prince.
"This might mean the end of the Kingdom."
But the prince only looked back, unwaveringly solid.
"...Who- who is your wife." Armula asked breathlessly, feeling another revelation peeking its head in.
"You are, my dear."
Anticipating something might happen does not mean one would be ready for it once it does, as was evident in the case of Armula.
Her knees suddenly fell from under her, her head was spinning again, all of her senses registered nothing. She saw a flash of purple and was suddenly in the arms of the prince. It was warm there and comfortable, it felt like home.
Armula suddenly realised what had happened and scrambled out of his embrace before she got swept off her fantasies, because surely this was one, surely.
"Oh, please do excuse me." she said, straightening her dress.
The prince only smiled
"What do you mean I am your wife?" she asked incredulously.
"Exactly that."
"I... your wife?" she tried to grasp the meaning of the words, tried to accept them, but just couldn't. "No, that cannot possibly be, I am not married, and I certainly do not remember marrying you."
"Ouch."
"More besides, I am but a country maiden, barely past sixteen, I-It is not proper!"
The prince turned his head to give Alsam a chagrined look.
"It was necessary!" Alsam shouted back.
"Father?"
"I- ah..." Alsam sighed.
"Father is this true? Did you marry me off without my knowing of it?"
"No- I, not exactly."
"Give her back, Alsam." the prince ordered.
"... yes, my princ-"
"No, wait, what‐ I am not going with this man, you've yet to even explain yourselves!" Armula objected.
The prince put a hand on her father's shoulder. "Give her back her memories."
Alsam opened his mouth to maybe object, but thought better of it and turned to Armula instead. His eyes were filled with determination now, as he took both of her hands in his.
Armula was once again thrust into another revelation, this one more overwhelming than the others that came before. Her entire existence was now put to question, and she trembled with the thought of its implications.
"Father, I... I don't know what's happening, I- I'm,"
"Yes, child?"
"I'm scared."
"I know, shh." her father embraced her as she wept on his chest.
"I'm- am I real?"
"Yes, child."
"Did I even exist."
"Yes."
"Will I dissapear?"
"No." her father said. "You will finally be yourself, every last piece of you complete."
Armula wiped away her tears and stood resolute.
"I am ready, father."
"Good, come closer."
Alsam took a ring off his finger. It was black and purple, with the two colors intertwined in a braid, the purple glinting occasionally in the light, the black so dark it seemed to absorb light. It was a beautiful ring, one she often stares at when her father works on the fields. She felt a pull coming from it, like it was beckoning to her.
"Wear it on your left ring finger." Alsam instructed.
As she slowly pulled onto her finger, she felt a pulse emanate from it. The pulse was erratic and quick, but as she wore it, it gradually slowed and matched her own heartbeat.
"Connor, wear yours."
The prince pulled a locket from under his armour and opened it, revealing an identical ring, the colors inverted this time.
Alsam kissed her forehead and whispered: "This is all up to you now," and left.
Connor stood up and took her left hand in his.
"We have been alone for so long."
"Yes."
"I have longed for this moment countless nights."
"I... feel the same way, although I did not realise I was looking for you."
"This is it," whispered the prince. "Come back. Come home, my love."
And he kissed her.
Almura felt his mind, felt his being, his soul. It was overwhelming but gentle, familiar, like everything about him. She felt their hearts beating not in unison but in a rythm, his heart would beat twice, hers once, his once, and hers twice over and over again. The sound of two souls interlinked.
"It's beautiful."
"Find your way, my love. My heart, find it."
She searched through his soul, past the torrents of emotion like raging waves and warmth like early sun. She found the center of it all, Him.
She approached Him. He was facing away from her clutching something in his chest.
"Hello?"
"My love?"
"Yes, it is I."
"...finally," He sighed, satisfied, like a weight has been lifted off of him.
He turned toward her and streched out his hands. In them was a statue, a statue that resembles Almura. But the features were sharp and it was altogether much more beautiful and idealized than the person it was depicting. Nonetheless, she took it.
Her mind reeled.
Memories came flooding back to her, overwhelming her. Then it was quiet.
"Connor?" she asked in the darkness.
"Connor?"
"Yes, I am here- I am here, my heart." Connor replied in the darkness.
"Where are you?"
"I am here," Connor replied-
"Right here."
The room suddenly came into view.
Delaine Mosvani d'Almurain awoke to the sight of her husband.
"Welcome back," he said.
She smiled and felt warmth bubbling inside of her. It was so good to be back in his embrace again.
Connor smiled back, thinking the same thing.
"Let me help you up."
She stood and stared at Connor as he stared back.
Suddenly a new warmth welled up inside of her, one that had nothing to do with love.
"You purple arsehole."