Tristan strode through the palace halls with purpose. He reached Suzanna's door to her bedchamber and knocked loudly. The door swung open to reveal Rose. Tristan's heart skipped a beat at her sudden appearance.
"Rose," he greeted with a smile. She was wearing a teal dress that complimented her hair beautifully, Tristan nearly forgot to breathe.
"My lord," Rose responded, dropping her eyes to the floor. Tristan frowned at her formality but then realised she did not want Suzanna to question her if she spoke familiarly to him. Rose stepped aside from the door and allowed Tristan to enter the room. He strode in and found Suzanna at her writing table. She was writing something on paper with her elegant, smooth script. Suzanna looked up and put her quill down when she saw him enter. She stood up and brushed her dress down, smiling up at him in amusement.
"Tristan, what are you doing here? And why do you look like that?" She asked in a friendly manner, a small giggle bubbling up from her. She was referring to the peasant disguise he was wearing. The commoners clothing made it less likely that people would pay attention to who he was, and he hoped he would go unnoticed. Suzanna walked forward and gave him a quick hug. Tristan held her at arm's length and squeezed her shoulders gently. He nudged his head in the direction of Rose who was hovering by the door.
"I was hoping you would consider relieving Rose from her duties until this afternoon. I need to borrow her," he said. Rose looked up with such a confused expression he almost laughed.
"Borrow her? Whatever for?" Suzanna asked, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow. She tapped her foot on the ground expectantly. "I am not accustomed to lending my maidservant to whoever asks."
"Please, Suzanna? Only this once, I swear it." Suzanna stared at him sharply, but then sighed and nodded reluctantly.
"Oh, very well, if you must. I shall manage without her this morning."
"Thank you, I will return her to you soon," he promised. Suzanna pouted but nodded at him.
"I will need her this afternoon, do not tarry longer than necessary."
Tristan muttered his agreement over his shoulder as he walked back towards the door. "Come," he said to Rose, beaming at her. Rose curtsied to Suzanna and followed him out the chambers.
"Where are we going?" She asked, her voice ringing around him with the most heavenly sound.
"We are going to the village, I want to show you something," he answered.
"Is it the construction of the house?" She questioned, her eyes sparkling with joy. Tristan chuckled at her enthusiasm but shook his head.
"No, although construction on the home will begin soon."
"What could it be then?" Rose pondered out loud. Tristan smiled. Her inquisitive expression seemed to highlight the intelligence in her eyes. She was no ordinary townsperson - every time he was with her she made that more obvious.
"I cannot tell you, it is a surprise," Tristan responded. A moment of doubt had his heart racing. What if she did not like the surprise? What if it made her angry or sad? He shook the thoughts off. Rose would know that he meant well.
They reached the town without incident. The village was busy and loud - it was a market day and the streets were crowded. Tristan headed towards the stalls, watching Rose to make sure she was not swallowed by the mass of people. He stopped at one market stand that was selling flowers bundled and tied together by twine.
"Is this the surprise?" Rose asked him curiously, her eyes glittering with joy.
Tristan shook his head in response. "No, but I think you may want some flowers. Choose any," he told her, gesturing to the variety of flowers available. Rose raised one eyebrow at him, but did as he said anyway. He watched as she studied the flowers. She pointed at one bunch that was compiled of pink, yellow, and white blossoms.
"How much for these?" She asked the merchant.
"Price is no matter. We will take the flowers," Tristan interjected. Rose opened her mouth as if to protest, but Tristan merely smiled at her. He retrieved some coins and handed them to the merchant who nodded gratefully and handed Rose the flowers. Tristan guided Rose forward gently as they continued walking to their destination.
"You did not have to buy the flowers for me," Rose said, looking up over the vibrant petals that she clutched to her chest.
"It was my desire to," Tristan responded. He was unable to stop grinning - so much so that his cheeks were beginning to ache. Rose seemed so happy and, at last, comfortable with him.
They walked past the main crowd and into a much quieter, duller area. The streets were dirty and appeared empty. Tristan paid no attention to his surroundings, but he could not say the same for Rose. She gasped from beside him and suddenly ran past his side. Tristan looked around, confused, until he realised she was running towards two young children. He hurried his pace so that he was still near her. As he drew closer he realised the two children were beggars. Their feet were so dirty they were almost black with grime. Their cheeks were sunken and arms were impossibly thin. One was a boy and one was a girl - they could not have been more than seven years of age. Tristan stared at them, and as he did so he could not help but realise he was staring at the face of hunger. This is what suffering looks like.
Rose did not pay any attention to the state of the children, but she drew close to them. Tristan admired her - she was not like other women who usually would have avoided the beggars or scoffed at them. He stood a short distance away and watched as she bent over the children. They were speaking, but he could not hear what was said between them. Rose reached into the concealed pocket of her dress and pulled out a brown pouch. He watched as she reached into the pouch and pulled out some coins.
Without hesitation she handed both the beggars a substantial amount of coin. Tristan's mouth nearly dropped open at her generosity. The children stared at coins in their hands with blank expressions, as if dumbfounded. The little boy said something to her.
"It is for you," he heard Rose say, her voice carried by the wind. The little girl began to cry as she clutched the coins close to her. The girl stepped up to Rose and wrapped her tiny arms around Rose's legs. Rose did not shake the child off or scream as some women might have. She did not say that the girl was soiling her dress or staining her skirt with her tears. Instead she dropped one arm around the shoulders of the girl and rubbed her back gently. The boy was quick to follow. He too began to cry and hugged Rose around her legs. Rose eventually squatted so that she could hug them both. She held them both close to her as though she were a mother and they were her beloved children.
Tristan watched as she whispered a few more words into the ears of the children. The children laughed and nodded as they wiped away their tears. Then they ran off, clutching their precious coins tightly in their fists. Tristan shook his head in admiration, he had never seen such a beautiful sight. In mortification he realised a tear had escaped his eye. He wiped it away hurriedly before Rose could turn and see him. He approached Rose who smiled at him.
"That was truly beautiful," he told her honestly. Rose ducked her head humbly.
"I could not let them go without speaking to them," she admitted.
"Why were you so generous? You worked hard to earn that money," Tristan said, curious. On the rare occasion that he had seen a beggar receive money, it was usually only one coin - if that - not the handful that Rose had given away.
"They needed it more than I do," Rose said with a shrug. Tristan gazed at her in wonder. Was she truly so selfless that she would give away precious money because she did not need it as much?
"You amaze me," he murmured quite honestly. Rose's cheeks turned a faint pink as she clutched her flowers close to her.
"I did not do anything amazing." There she went again, being modest and innocent. Did she truly not realise how incredible she was? His heart pounded at the thought. She was incredible. She was kind, selfless, humble, loyal, and passionate.
She would make the perfect Queen, Tristan thought to himself. He longed to tell her just what he thought about her, to tell her that she was beautiful and perfect. He wanted to hold her and spend his every moment with her. The force of his desire surprised him.
"We should continue," Tristan finally said, drawing himself out of his thoughts. It would not do to scare Rose away with a confession of his admiration.
"Of course," Rose answered. Tristan guided her forward with one hand.
They left the edge of the town and walked towards a field. Rose was frowning, Tristan supposed she had realised where they were going. As the field grew nearer, small structures came into view. They were plain and dull, but important to many beyond belief.
Gravestones.
~
Rose stopped walking when they reached the field. She did not know how to feel, but grief for her lost friends and family immediately crushed her.
"Why have you brought me here?" She asked Tristan, forcing back her emotions. Tristan raised his hands and held her shoulders gently.
"I do not want you to be sad," he began. Rose looked away from his eyes; she wanted to leave before she lost the fight with her tears. "I know you could not find out where your friend Tilly was buried," he continued. Rose flinched. Why had he brought up such painful memories?
"Yes," she confirmed softly.
"I could not bear the thought of you never being able to visit her grave. I did some searching for information. I, too, could not find the place where she was buried. I wish I had found out, but no one seemed to know. Perhaps we will never know. There may not be a place where you can visit her - but there is a place that you can remember her. Follow me," Tristian murmured, dropping his hands from her shoulders.
Rose followed hesitantly. He led her to the fringe of the field where a beautiful tree was blooming, displaying bright pink flowers. Tilly's favourite colour. How had he known? Next to the tree, under the shadow of its branches was another gravestone. But this gravestone was not like the others. It was not grey or dull without detail. It was a vibrant, polished white that shone in the sunlight. Rose gasped at the sight of it.
On the stone was an engraved eulogy that brought tears to Rose's eyes.
In memory of Tilly Edwards,
who was brave, joyful, and strong.
Taken from us too soon,
may her name never be forgotten.
Underneath the eulogy was an engraved image of birds flying, then in flowing script: He sees every sparrow that falls.
Rose did cry then. It was the most beautiful grave and it did perfect justice to Tilly.
"You did this?" Rose asked Tristan through her tears. Tristan nodded.
"I had it commissioned. She may have only been a beggar, but that does not mean she did not deserve a proper memorial." Rose held her hand up to her heart as she gazed at the grave. Tristan had done all this just for her, all because he knew that Tilly was important to her. She had never met someone so thoughtful. Her heart seemed to bloom inside her chest as she was once again met with the unexpected kindness of the Prince.
Now she understood why he had suggested they buy flowers. Rose removed the twine holding the bundle of flowers together. Tristan stood a few steps away from her, giving her some privacy. Rose gently began laying the flowers down, one by one, on the foot of Tilly's grave. A few tears escaped her as she focused on her task. When she was finished, she stood up straight and stared at the gravestone. The flowers were bright and lovely. The grave was beautiful. Rose choked back a few more tears as she lightly ran her hand along the gravestone.
"I am sorry I was not there for you. I will never forget you, Tilly," Rose whispered through her tears. "You were more than just a friend to me. I will forever love you."
The warmth of Tristan's hand touched her shoulder lightly. "You were the family she needed. You made her life better," Tristan said quietly to her.
"And she made my life colourful," Rose whispered. They stood together and stared at the grave of Tilly. "Thank you," Rose said, turning her back to the grave so she could look at Tristan. "For doing this. It means more to me than you could ever imagine."
Tristan smiled at her. "I wish I had been able to do more," he answered. Rose shook her head vehemently.
"You have done more than any other person I know. If Tilly had ever met you I know she would have loved you," Rose said with a choked up laugh. "You cared enough to do this. You have changed much since the first day I met you. Just look at everything you have done for people like me. The village home is going to change lives; it was no small act. And every time I visit this grave I will remember that the Prince cared for a homeless beggar he never knew." Tristan gave the softest smile and gently reached out to hold her hand.
"And every time I see the roses in the field I will remember that there was once a girl who looked beyond the exterior of a heartless Prince and saw the man he could be," Tristan said without fear. He raised her hand and placed the lightest kiss on her knuckles. Rose's heart practically stopped. Tristan dropped her hand, though the smile on his face did not fade.
He should not have kissed her hand; he was not courting her. But for once Rose did not have the heart to say so, for once she just wanted to enjoy the time she had with him, and for once she smiled up at him with the most carefree expression she could muster.
"Are you going to run from me again?" Tristan joked.
"Never," Rose responded with a giggle. Tristan held out his arm and Rose took it.
"I should return you to my sister before she can think of a way to punish me for stealing you," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
And stealing me he is, she thought. Her heart was flying away from her right into the palms of Tristan and there was nothing she could do about it. Rose looked back over her shoulder, her gaze lingering on the gravestone. Goodbye, Tilly. The tree by the grave moved with the breeze, as if waving goodbye in return.
"Thank you for bringing me here. I truly appreciate it - and not just because I was given time off from my duties," Rose said to Tristan.
"It was my pleasure. Do you receive enough time off from your tasks?" He questioned.
"Plenty, Suzanna is a very attentive mistress."
"You enjoy working for her, then?" Tristan asked curiously.
"Very much. Sometimes I feel like she treats me like I am the Princess instead of the other way around." Tristan laughed heartily at that comment.
"That sounds like Suzanna," he responded. "I am most curious, though," he said after a minute. "You read the eulogy on the grave easily, I did not expect that. Where did you learn to read?" Tristan asked, inclining his head to the side. Rose could understand his curiosity. It was rare - practically unheard of - for a mere peasant to know how to read or write.
"I learned from another beggar," Rose said with a fond smile on her face. "Once he was a wealthy merchant, but he fell into debt. The lord of the region claimed his home and belongings for payment. The man had no family to help him and so he became homeless. He was very kind - I was young when I knew him. He used to entertain the beggar children with fanciful tales and his adventures as a merchant. I asked him one day if he knew how to read and he said he did. He loved how eager I was to learn, so in the afternoons he used to spend his time teaching a group of us to read and write. He would draw letters and words into the dirt with a stick and we would copy him. I practiced as often as I could."
"What happened to the man?"
"He passed away, he was of old age, but I have never met someone who was so happy. Even facing death he never once looked fearful or sad."
"Reading is a valuable skill," Tristan said after a moment. "How is it that you were not employed?"
Rose pursed her lips. "I did try to find work, but people were not willing. Even though I had skills, all people ever saw was a dirty beggar. I gave up eventually. It did not seem worth holding onto hope if no one would give me a chance."
"I am sorry you have suffered so," Tristan said gently.
"It is in the past now. Things are different and changing - the village home will help others to change their lives, just like you helped me," Rose answered, beaming up at Tristan. "I do not see myself as someone who has suffered, but as someone who is fortunate." Tristan did not answer her, but he smiled so widely that it stole her breath away. Indeed, I could fall for this man.
They reached the village before long. Rose enjoyed seeing the scenery, but she frowned when she noticed a man watching them from a distance. He looked familiar, but Rose could not remember where she had seen him. The man was standing tall and confidently against the side of a nearby building. As they grew closer, Rose began feeling unnerved. The man never removed his gaze from them.
"There is a man watching us," Rose whispered to Tristan, doing her best to be subtle. Tristan looked up immediately, protectively, and traced her own gaze to the man. Tristan stopped short, halting Rose next to him. He sighed in an exasperated manner then walked up to the man. Rose stared at the figure, she had definitely seen him before. Who was he? Where had she met him?
"Samuel," Tristan said in a rigid tone. The man pushed himself off the building.
"Tristan," the man called Samuel replied. Rose frowned. Samuel. Samuel who? She could not remember knowing a Samuel.
"Rose, allow me to introduce you to Samuel, one of my head Knights," Tristan stated. Head Knight. All of a sudden Rose realised where she had seen this man - he had been the one who had arrested her and taken her to Mistress Eudora the very first day she faced the Prince. Rose smiled sheepishly at the man; how the times had changed - she was no longer a rebellious beggar but the lady-in-waiting to the Princess.
"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Rose said to Samuel.
"Likewise," Samuel said, though his eyes were not particularly friendly. Rose felt as if he did not like her, but she could not understand why. Perhaps it is because I did refuse to follow his orders, Rose thought wryly.
"What are you doing here, Samuel?" Tristan asked the man. Samuel raised an eyebrow.
"I was curious to know what could cause the Prince to go to the village in the attire of a peasant. I did not realise you would be with her," Samuel responded. He was looking at Tristan as though he was trying to give a hidden, frustrated message with his eyes. "What were you doing?"
"We were jus-" Rose began.
"I was not talking to you. Remember your place, servant," Samuel spat out hostilely. Rose blanched, feeling as though she had just been slapped. She had never heard a gentleman speak so rudely, even to a servant.
"Samuel!" Tristan barked furiously. "How dare you speak to a maiden so impolitely. Apologise to her," Tristan demanded. Rose had never heard Tristan order his men around in anger. Rose paled even further. Tristan and Samuel stared at each other through narrowed eyes, neither one willing to yield.
"She is a servant," Samuel said angrily.
"We are not having this argument again, Samuel. She is my friend."
"So am I."
"Aye, and I would appreciate it if you were kind towards each other."
"No, Tristan, he is right," Rose interjected. "I am a servant. I spoke out of turn, I should not have forgotten my place. Forgive me, Sir Knight," Rose said with a brief curtsey.
"Tristan?" Samuel asked Rose with wide, shocked eyes. Rose immediately realised her mistake. Her heart stopped; she suddenly felt nauseous. How could I be so stupid?
"I-I mean, Your H-Highness," she stuttered out her correction. Tristan exchanged a wide-eyed glance with her.
"You call him Tristan?" Samuel repeated with clenched hands.
"She is my friend," Tristan explained uselessly after a moment of silence. Samuel looked between them, back and forth over and over. His tense expression gradually faded into one of humour. He released a short laugh.
"All of the changes you have made - even the house you are building - are because of her, aren't they?" Samuel asked Tristan. Rose was amazed when a faint, pink blush tinted Tristan's cheeks.
"Aye," Tristan muttered. Rose looked up at him, humbled. Had he truly made many of his changes because of her? Samuel was grinning.
"I suppose I cannot be angered about your friendship when her influence on you is only good," Samuel deduced. Tristan and Rose both smiled as the palpable tension between them faded into nothing. "But what were you doing today?" He asked them curiously. This time Rose was clearly included in the conversation.
"We were visiting the gravestone of a friend," Rose told him.
"I had the grave commissioned, I wanted to show her," Tristan explained.
"Who was the friend?" Samuel asked gently.
"Her name was Tilly," Rose said calmly. The sadness was not as strong as it once had been.
"Ah yes. Tilly," Samuel murmured, nodding his head grimly. "She was a sweet child."
"You knew her?" Rose asked, shocked.
"I used to visit her sometimes and give her money. Her mother was the cousin of my sister's friend," Samuel affirmed. "I liked to make sure that Tilly was okay. 'Twas a sorrowful day when she passed on."
"I do not remember seeing you," Rose said, not unkindly, thinking back to her years on the streets.
"I saw you," Samuel responded.
"You did?" Tristan and Rose asked in unison. Tristan's eyebrows looked as though they could touch the sky if he raised them any further. Samuel nodded.
"I did not think much of it at the time. You were just another beggar on the streets - I mean no offense," Samuel said hurriedly. Rose nodded, showing his words had not hurt her. "Though I am sure I dropped a coin at your feet sometimes," Samuel said with a wink. Rose held her hand up to her mouth, amazed.
"I thank you, Sir. You are indeed a good man," she said to him. Samuel and Tristan both smiled at her.
"Thank you, fair lady. I sincerely apologise for my crude words earlier. I should not have reacted in anger and belittled you. You are no mere servant, please accept my honest apology," Samuel told her as he bowed his head. Rose nodded her head graciously in return.
The three of them accompanied each other back to the castle grounds in relative silence, but Samuel's words echoed in her thoughts.
You are no mere servant.
And as she looked at Tristan, who smiled down at her with a secreted, strong emotion, she began to believe the words.