Dahlia woke to the smell of eggs. Her eyes felt heavy but they still opened. Her stomach let out a growl as she groggily rubbed her eyes. Home. I wanna go home.
Dahlia's heart ached. Her father must be worried. She heard rustling from the other side of the curtain and got up. There was no comb or mirror so Dahlia used her hands to try and tame her hair. She walked out to food on the table and Timothée sitting there, reading a book. He glanced up briefly before focusing back on the pages.
"Eat fast. We have things to do." He stated, biting into a red apple. Dahlia approached and gently sat down. She took one of the napkins and folded it over her lap. Timothée glanced up and let out an amused laugh.
"What?" Dahlia snapped.
"Nothing."
"It had to have been something, Chalamet." Dahlia looked very annoyed as she dug into her food.
"You don't have to be so formal with me, Princess," Timothée stated while shoving away his papers. Dahlia's face went red with embarrassment. "My first name is fine." He finished. Dahlia chose not to answer. She continued eating until she was all done. When she pushed the plate away, a little boy came running into the tent.
"Timmy! Timmy! I got my first bulls-eye!" The kid ran up and jumped on Timothée's lap. He let out a small groan of pain but quickly covered it up with a smile.
"That's amazing!" Dahlia was surprised to see the enthusiasm that Timothée had. She thought he was constantly grumpy with an occasional sarcastic remark here and there. The kid suddenly turned and saw Dahlia across the table. He tried to hide his face with his hands while also still staring at her.
"Nicholas, this is Princess Dahlia," Timothée said while ruffling the kid's blonde hair. He slowly lowered his hands.
"Hello." Dahlia smiled at him. He smiled back and got more confident.
"You're really pretty," Nicholas muttered. His cheeks turned red and his eyes cast to the floor.
"Thank you. You're very handsome yourself, too." She responded. He smiled and lifted his head. Nicholas got off of Timothée's lap and excused himself for disturbing them.
"Timmy? It's cute that he calls you that." Dahlia laughed. He turned to her and tried to suppress a smile and look annoyed.
"Don't push it." Timothée joked and stood up and walked to her chair, holding out his hand. "I think it's time we go, my lady." Dahlia grabbed his hand and stood up.
"Where exactly?" She questioned while following him out of the tent. They walked past many people doing various activities. There was a large open field where people were training. Some stood around fires making food for others. A group of children ran past then, giggling and chasing each other. Timothée guided her to a horse waiting at the edge of the camp. He turned to look at her with a small smile.
"You said you've never experienced freedom. I'm just going to show you what you're missing." Timothée grabbed her waist and lifted her to the saddle. Dahlia looked away to avoid him seeing her red cheeks. He joined her and sat in the front, gripping the reins.
"Hold on, my lady." He says before urging the horse forwards. They started at a slow pace before picking up speed. Dahlia squealed and wrapped her arms around Timothée's torso and buried her face in his back. She felt his body shake with laughter. Timothée was trying his best to keep a calm composure on their ride in the forest. Her arms felt warm to him.
After a while, they stopped at the ledge of a large mountain, overlooking the vast part of the forest with more mountains in the distance. The sun was just rising. Dahlia was never allowed out of the castle and rarely got to see a sunrise. Her eyes light up and she jumps off the horse, walking so she's a few feet from the edge. It was a truly enchanting view.
Timothée got off his horse and walked to stand beside her. His eyes drifted between the sunrise and Dahlia. He eventually settled on staring at her instead. Admiring the princess's beauty, he spoke up.
"This is freedom. Deciding where you want to go and who you want to be. Nobody can tell you otherwise, my lady." Timothée spoke his mind. He had the urge to reach out and tuck a bit of hair behind her ear but refrained from doing so.
"I've never seen anything this beautiful." Dahlia's voice was but a whisper. She then focused her wonderous gaze on him, "If I can call you Timothée, it is only fair that you call me Dahlia. No need for such formalities anymore." She gave him a toothy grin. Timothée was happy that he could call her by her real name and not say, 'my lady,' or 'princess.'
"Alright, Dahlia." Her name, coming from him, sounded like a soft melody. "As much as I'd like to stay here, there is much to see." Timothée gently grabbed her hand, leading her back to the horse.
"There's more?" Dahlia questioned. She was beyond ecstatic to see new scenery and couldn't wait to see what he had in store.
__________
They've been venturing around the forest for hours. It was as if the two forgot about everything going on in the world. The revolution and Dahlia going home never crossed their minds. Their wandering selves happened upon a small waterfall. They sat down for lunch, a bit of meat and bread with some water and wine Timothée brought. They talked about things unknown. Their thoughts were coming out as words and they relished in the opportunity to talk to someone about mundane things. A soft lull in the conversation came and they could finally hear the sounds of the water moving, birds in the distance and air rustling through the trees. It was then, in this quiet moment, Dahlia chose to question.
"That Nicholas kid back at camp." Her eyes met with Timothée's, "Does he have a full name?" In their kingdom, bastard or orphan children are not given last names. He moves uncomfortably in his spot.
"He was Nicholas Brivalon."
"Why does that name sound so familiar to me?" Dahlia wondered out loud. She did not expect Timothée to answer.
"His parents were executed by your father. That was years ago," He stated, but soon turned suspicious, "How would you remember that name?" It was then that it hit Dahlia. Her stomach felt sick and she dropped her cup of water. Even though they were sitting on the ground, it felt like her body was falling. Her throat felt closed and yet she spoke with a whisper.
"It was the first execution I saw," Dahlia opened up, "My father thought I was old enough. It was seven years ago and I was only ten. I begged and pleaded for hours not to go. I was not interested in public executions. He told me that these people were traitors and that God was punishing them. I remember it like yesterday. Their names were announced and they walked to two chopping blocks. The entire time they held hands. They weren't afraid, just in love. I made eye contact with the girl and it was like she was asking me for mercy. Mercy I could not give. When the sword came down on her kneck, I flinched and looked away. My father later found out and beat me for it." Dahlia's heart sunk. They had a child. Nicholas must have been a baby at the time. With that thought, her heart began to ache.
"I was there," Timothée spoke up, "They were in the market trying to buy bread. It was just after your father raised the prices. They couldn't afford anything. I remember what Nicholas' father said, word for word. 'Everything would be better if the King just died.' I was there when he said it, I was there when they were arrested, and I was there at the execution. At thirteen, I didn't know much about life. The courage and strength they showed. The willingness to speak up when things are wrong inspired me to start this rebellion. Not just for the people, but Nicholas and his parents." Dahlia was moved by his words. The raw emotions of anger and pride stirred to his surface. She noticed how tense he was and how his hands were balled into fists so tightly she saw the whites of his knuckles. Without thinking, she reached out and held both his hands, trying to soothe the pain he felt towards that memory.
"I saw you there too," He continued, "As I said, I was thirteen and didn't know much about life. I didn't just learn about standing for freedom that day, I learned about beauty." Dahlia's heart started to pound and heat flooded to her face. It seems that he may have had too much wine and was saying things that should be kept secret. They were once again drowning in silence.
"When you overthrow my father, what happens next?" Dahlia questioned. Timothée looked up at her.
"You said when not if." He was not focused on answering the question anymore.
"He is my father and I will always love him, no matter how monstrous. He wouldn't have sent me away to marry so fast if there wasn't any trouble. He's nervous, possibly even scared. The loyalty of his advisors are changing," She turned her head away and whispered more, "My loyalties are changing." Dahlia hoped Timothée couldn't hear the last bit. He did but chose not to say anything. Time passed and eventually, the two silently got up and packed away their things. As they were just finishing up, shouting was heard in the distance. Dahlia swore she heard her name being called. It was a group of men and some horses in the distance. When they got closer, she noticed the type of armour they were wearing.
"They're palace guards." Dahlia turned to Timothée in fear. This was her moment. She could escape and go home. But for some reason, she couldn't move. She didn't want to leave and that thought scared her even more.