A/N: I don’t think this scenario makes a lot of sense but I wrote it at 2AM yesterday so I’m cutting myself some slack ahaha~ I hope the anon who requested it finds it satisfactory though n_n

Cupping your chin in the palm of your hand, you stared out the window of your bedroom with a heavy sigh. Outside the trees were just beginning to sprout their spring leaves, the clouds settling heavily behind the mountains. The land that spanned vast before your eyes would be yours in the distant future. You sighed. It was hardly the life for which you’d been dreaming.

Being raised as the kingdom’s princess left you feeling caged like an exotic bird. You were free to come and go as you pleased, but with wings clipped could hardly fly away. Your parents, the king and queen, had made certain you were reared with the potential to rule. Years of manners, practicing, and looking elegant had fashioned a hunger for excitement deep in your heart. Dreaming of riding horses, chasing foxes, and doing just about anything but sitting next to the king and queen was the easiest way for you to pass the time until someone called for you.

“Princess?” Your lady in waiting mumbled through the heavy door. “Are you awake? The king and queen wish to speak with you.” A miserable sigh escaped your lips. Never were your parents referred to as “mom” and “dad” in your presence. It was always “king and queen” or “his and her highness.” The titles were unfamiliar and cold, an appropriate representation of your relationship with both of them. You followed the chambermaid to where the king and queen sat, side by side at the head of a large oaken table.

“You called for me?” you asked, keeping your voice even and still. Nodding, your father folded his hands on the table.

“You know that we’ve been considering an alliance with one of the neighboring kingdoms for several months now. Today we came to an agreement.” Your heart began to race with his words. There existed only one reason why he would call for you about an affair with alliances, and that was for a political marriage.

“But-”

“The eldest son from the kingdom across the mountains is eligible for marriage, and was kind enough to ask for your hand. The ceremony will be next month, if time allows.”

“But, father, I-”

“Don’t interrupt,” the queen scolded. “This is important for your kingdom,” she reminded. “Doing this could mean great things for our people. As the eldest daughter, it’s your job to think of them.” It wasn’t the first time you’d heard these words. The people of your kingdom were important to you. The constant balance between your concern for your people and the desire to escape was a source of great distress.

“What about my sister?” you asked. “Why can’t she marry him?” Her father frowned, the deep lines in his forehead deepening.

“You’re the eldest. And they asked for you.” You stood, bowing your head so the tears b at the edges of your eyes wouldn’t fall before your parents. It was inevitable. This would be your fate.

Excusing yourself, you pushed open a series of doors that lead to the outside. Leaning against the side of your extravagant home, you hid your face in the palms of your hands. You shouldn’t have been surprised by the decision. Regardless, your clothes darkened in patches beneath the wetness of your tears.

“Miss, are you…alright?” a soothing voice asked. You saw a pair of brown riding boots crouch at your feet, scuffed and scraped from years of use. Looking up, your eyes met a friendly pair, heavy with concern for your well-being. He reached a gentle hand forward, brushing your fallen hair back behind your ear. “Princess!” he stuttered as his brain placed your face. “Are you hurt?” Shaking your head, you took his extended hand and stood.

“I’m…I’m alright, I guess.” You wiped your eyes with the back of your hands, makeup smudging on your skin. “I’ve been better honestly.” He bowed politely, obviously flustered by your presence. “You don’t have to do that,” you complained. Righting himself, he extended a hand.

“Sorry. I’m in charge of the horses here,” he explained. You wondered why you hadn’t seen him before, regretting that the only civilians with whom you interacted were servants and chambermaids. It was as though your world and the world outside were entirely detached, the only life you experienced that which was selected for you. “Do you want to ride with me?” he asked softly.

It was remarkable how well he knew the animals. Even your favorite horse responded more comfortably to his touch than your own. You rode together for a couple of hours, until an exhausted looking servant wandered into the riding area.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! It’s dinnertime, the king and queen are getting irritated.” You and the boy you’d been riding with exchanged a glance as you climbed down from your horse; following the servant regretfully back inside.

You spent the evening before bed staring out the window again. On the other side of your room you could see out into the horse riding area, watching the handler walk each of the king’s horses around the ring. In the light of the setting sun you could just barely distinguish him from the trees. In the few hours you spent together you could already recognize the way he walked, slowly and carefully around the dirt.

Over the next few weeks you’d begun to count down the days until you had to be wed. You’d met the prince from the other kingdom. He wasn’t a bad person, but he was exactly the type your parents would have selected. Regal, stoic, and entirely too imperial for you to be happy as his wife.

As the calendar pages shed quickly before you, you found yourself growing closer and closer to the caretaker boy. He treated you the way you wanted, no different than he might treat a fellow servant of the king. When you cried and ranted over the gloom of your providence as princess, he was a shoulder to lean on and a voice of assurance.

“I just…I really don’t want to do this,” you explained. “I know it’s selfish but I just can’t see myself being happy stuck in his kingdom for the rest of my life. I’ve been living that way for as long as I’ve been alive. I don’t think I can keep doing that.” He nodded, picking at a piece of straw with his long fingers.

“What about your sister?” he asked, echoing the same thoughts you’d expressed weeks before.

“Believe me, I’ve tried to suggest everything. I’m doomed.” He gave a friendly smile, patting your cheek with a palm made rough from working outdoors.   

“It’s going to be okay. You’ll think of something.” You sat together for a few minutes, cross-legged on a bale of hay. His fingers were curled around yours, the touch of his hand warm and encouraging. You could feel the heat of his breath against your neck. Carefully turning your face toward his, he kissed you softly on the lips. For a moment neither of you spoke, staring into the shadows across the stable. You turned to him suddenly, wild inspiration flashing in your eyes.

“I have an idea!” you shouted, louder than intended. “A crazy idea!” He leaned forward, silently encouraging you to explain.

“Let’s run away!” He looked alarmed.

“We can’t do that!”

“Why not? If you don’t come with me, I’m going to go myself.” His hands folded in front of his face, he stared at the ground. He was mulling through the options, the consequences and possibilities.

“Fine. Let’s go. Let’s run away.”

“Really?” Excitement in your voice, you leaned sideways to wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders. You stood, ready to jump on a horse and never look back. He shook his head, tugging you back to the hay by your wrist.

“We can’t leave now,” he laughed. “But we will. I promise,” he assured, holding up three of his fingers. Kissing him again, you smiled and stood to leave.

That night, you stared at the cool brick walls that surrounded your bedroom. It was drafty and dark, the cool of night leaking through a crack in your window that you had neglected to mention to your family. You could hear the sound of a meeting below, one which you had been supposed to attend. Were you really going to do this? Absolutely.

Weeks later, he asked for your hand. You were riding together, exploring the thick forests behind your castle. While atop your horses he slid a ring onto your finger, crafted of simple steel he’d purchased from the blacksmith. You turned to him with shock and astonishment.

“I get it, you’re trying to run away from this kind of thing but…” The prospect of a choice was all you wanted.

“Of course I’ll marry you!” It had been difficult to hide the excited flush in your cheeks when you returned to your bedchamber.

The day finally rolled into place, and you had already begun to gather what little you planned to bring. A week before your wedding day. You’d borrowed a set of clothes from him to change into, barely managing to slip away from the chambermaid early in the morning. Sneaking into your sisters’ rooms, you kissed their foreheads one by one before slinking out the back door. Someday, you would visit them again.

He was waiting for you outside, your horse bridled and ready to ride. Your hands curled tightly around the reins. You followed him into the dense forest, tossing your crown to the dirt. You wouldn’t need it anymore. The gusts of wind curled in your hair, whistling past your face. You were flying. You were free.