Hopeless Romantic

"Lady Gwendolyn, your father requests your presence in the western meeting room." said the servant, bowing respectfully.
I looked up from my studies and nodded to him. He left as soon as he was sure I'd heard him, leaving a momentary breeze and a strong sense of urgency. Or maybe it was just a result of the permanent draft in this old castle. I readied myself for the meeting, even though I was quite certain that it would be another tedious thing to do with the palace, the servants, the neighboring village or some other matter. Or worse, another negotiation where the only reason I was there was for decoration. Being the king's youngest daughter, I had no real privileges, but no real responsibilities either. I did a lot of whatever I fancied at the moment, but it was mostly because I had nothing else to do. It was like I was just a vagrant living in this palace, whom my father would see from time to time walking through the halls or out in the stables, but that was the extent of our relationship. This meeting would likely go the same as the countless others. My father would say something about how the servants were unhappy or the cows weren't producing enough , and then some other advisor would tell him he would take care of it at once. I would try to speak, and he would wave me away with a casual gesture. Then he would make a remark about something or other that he deemed witty, and the others at the table would laugh out of respect, though they knew as well as I that it was not in the least bit funny.
Instead of being dragged to this place, I would rather have been reading. I was deep in my studies at the time my father had summoned me. At the moment, I was studying the ancient philosophers and poets of Greece and Rome. It was strange for a woman in these parts to be educated, but then I had always been bright. I say that not to brag, you see, I simply loved learning new and exciting things about this world I lived in. I was drawn to information like a moth to the light, and would simply not stand to be ignorant like so many others would continue to be. I especially loved writing. I would write about anything that came to my mind. Some poetry, a short story; I'd even written some longer books. I had countless stories, hiding them inside my desk drawers, which no one would dare look. I could create my own world, my very own piece of heaven. The people in it always did what I pleased, and I always knew what would happen. Somewhere where there was justice, people understood each other, and love above everything reigned supreme. There had been many a time where I had been up till hours past nightfall, poring over my writing by the light of the last fragile candle.
I closed my book with a tiny poof of dust, and stepped out of my chamber to the meeting room at a brisk pace. I smiled and greeted the few servants and chambermaids I saw by name, and they did likewise. They had a bond with me that was unlike the relationship of master and servant. It was more of a respectful friendship, because I was not hesitant to roll up my sleeves and help them with some menial chore or another. The way I saw it, the more hands the better, and that would be something for a traveling lord to see, a laughing princess raking out the hay in the barn with servants! They had character, something that seemed to be exceedingly rare in this day and age. It was a fact that I liked the servants better than many of the foreign princesses that I was obliged to meet; the frilly, daft sort of maids that had as much of interest going about in their heads as a wet cabbage.
When I reached the end of the hall, I rested my hand on the ornately carved oak door and pushed it slowly open. When I entered the room, my father, several royal advisors from the palace, and several people from one of our rival clans were seated at the long wooden table. I nodded politely at the lot of them. These must be some more pointless negotiations that fail to go anywhere. We had done this countless times, and they failed to achieve anything. They always ended the same way; my father would make a ludicrous demand, the other family would offer something a bit more reasonable, then my father would turn red-faced and shout things like "I have the most pitiful land and I knew I couldn't expect any help from you lot", or "There is no way that you could have gotten so wealthy on your own", or the ever popular, "Your mother sleeps with the chickens!", and then he would stomp out the door. For some reason, the other family always came back the next time one of these meetings was to take place. Maybe, like me, they found it secretly amusing, having to hold back chuckles as they watched his face turn from its regular ruddy hue to a deep beet-red while he jumped up and down like a toddler. I resigned myself to boredom until the tantrum started, and took a seat, sighing. I crossed my legs, and my father glanced at me for a moment, as if to admonish me for being late, then continued with the meeting. He started to talk about how the land on this side of the river produced terrible crops, and I tuned out. He knew I found politics incredibly dull, and I didn't know why I had to be here. What was I right now but a witness, another pretty face? It was true that I found his fits terribly hilarious, but the rest of the meeting seemed to drag on for hours.
My eyes wandered over the room like they did every time, gazing over the tapestries, the sconces, the shield that was supposedly from ancient times, but was probably just left outside to rust for a few years and then recovered. I looked to the people at the table, trying to see if there were any new faces among the bunch, and indeed there was. A gorgeous lass with eyes of emerald. She looked dreadfully bored, but even boredom couldn't hurt her features. She glanced up at me as if , eyebrows raised, and I flushed with embarrassment and looked to the floor. When I thought it was safe, I looked up again, just in time to see her tender smile directed toward me.
In my mind I desired for the meeting to be over so I could talk to her, and hear her voice. There was no way it could be anything but sensual, beautiful, like a tiny little silver bell. She moved her hand, her delicate little hand, across her lap and onto her chin and lips, hiding a further smile from escaping.
My wish was granted soon enough, with my father overturning his chair and shouting, "Well then damn the lot of you!" and slamming the door behind him. I'm sure everyone else was as relieved as I was. I exhaled heavily as he stood up. Everyone walked out, and I was the last one to leave, walking slightly behind her.
I glanced around, making sure that no one saw me. This was the first time that I had come to see Lynette, and though nobody would likely be looking for me, I wasn't taking any chances. I was to go meet her at the meadow north of the village. I had been there countless times, and I had considered it to be my secret place, for as far as I knew, nobody went there. Now I had someone I could share it with. It had a different sweetness to it now that she would be there with me. After looking carefully around, I ran across the road and into the brush by the river, where my little rowboat was hidden. I brushed off the dried leaves and dust that had accumulated on it since I had used it last; it seemed like ages ago. I eased it into the water with only a small splash, and started rowing. I wouldn't be asked after at the castle, most likely. My father never knew where I was, and he by now had resigned himself to my being gone for extended amounts of time. I guess he had accepted the fact that it was no use trying to get me to stay in the castle for long periods of time, and that further argument was a waste of time. I had been leaving for longer and longer amounts of time, taking the funds I had stashed in my dresser and riding into the village. I loved the village. I would walk among the people like one of their own, and smile as I walked the streets. I would delight in the street vendors, selling their beautiful handmade crafts, brightly colored clothing, or freshly cooked meats. I would go to the festivals, and sing along with hundreds of other voices, dance arm in arm with hundreds of my fellows. If only for those few hours, I would smile, I would laugh, I would be free. I would worry about me and me alone.
Sometimes when I left, I would just ride around the beautiful countryside with my mare. I would recline in a hayfield, or a meadow with wildflowers, for hours on end, letting the sun's rays warm my face, and watching the tiny bees fly from flower to flower. How perfect that they should be furry on their little bodies, how perfectly adapted to life they were, like I could only wish I was. But after a while of freedom and happiness, I would always come back, because I had to. While I wish often I could fly away from this place, it would cause an uproar if I was never seen again. And my father, in the days before he had accepted that I would simply not stay, would always rage at me for not telling him where I was, and for being gone for so long. After a long rant, to which I was tuned out to, he would leave in disgust, mumbling the same old phrase every time: I just don't know why I bother. And I would go to my room, stare out the window, and dream of being able to fly far away from this place.
It seems my father only saw me at important occasions and meetings, or to shout at me for something or other. He didn't usually have time for me. He was never the type of father to spend a great deal of time playing games or simply talking about something. I had been raised mostly by my nannies, whom I loved, and partly by my mother, but she had never been very much there, either. She would talk to me more than my father would, but she often wouldn't show any emotions, just staring into space, thinking of who knows what. She often looked at life with a bone-deep weariness, though I would never figure out just how much. She suffered in silence, letting no one in apart from my father. What they talked about, I didn't know. It seems that they loved each other very much, they belonged with each other. And I didn't belong with anyone at all. It maddened me. But I digress.
I was at the other side of the river soon enough, hiding my boat skillfully underneath the loose shrubs of the bank. No one would find it unless they were really searching for it. It seems I'm good at hiding things these days. I walked to the meadow from here, enjoying the fresh sunlit morning. The sun's rays warmed my face, and I recalled something one of my nurses used to say, that I was like a tiny flower, dormant in darkness, but bright and shining in the light. I'd always forgone indoor activities for the wide open air and sunlight. I was at the meadow soon enough, and my heart sped up a bit when I saw her waiting for me there. She knelt beside a small stream, picking the new springtime blooms that grew tall and fragrant. I strode over to her, feet whispering on the grass, and before I had a chance to call her name or greet her, she turned to me and smiled. As I bent down to kneel alongside her, I smelled the musk of her skin mingled with the sweet fragrance of the blossoms and the fresh water.
"Isn't springtime here just gorgeous?" she said softly, holding the blooms up to her face and inhaling deeply. I smiled and smelled the flower blossoms as she held them out to me.
"Quite gorgeous. I love this time of year, when all the trees have new life, and you can almost see the blossoms unfold with your own eyes. I can think of something I'd like to see even more than that lovely sight, however." I looked into her eyes as she turned those twin pools of emerald on me. She twisted her lips in her lovely and delicate smile.
"And what would that be?" She set the flowers down on the grass. Her chestnut locks swirled on the breeze, making it necessary to frequently push it out of her eyes.
"Oh, I think you know."
Feigning ignorance, she tilted her head to the side, playfully. "I don't think I do."
"Your beautiful face, my dear, has captured my eyes, and I doubt if I could ever pull them free." I said sweetly. Her face reddened, and she laughed a bit. "That's sweet, Gwendolyn. I wish I was as good with words as you."
After a while, and a few lovely words from both of our lips, we stood up. I had to get back before my father or someone else noticed that I'd been gone too long and came looking for me. We exchanged a few more words and an embrace, and I got back in my boat, watching her until she was gone from my vision. And all the while I rowed back, I was smiling.