Grimholt slipped silently off his steed, and stowed the beast in the shadows of the trees. Then he crept into the dark gardens, as he had done many times before. Hiding among its flowerbeds and weeping willows, he gazed up at her window. His breath caught in his throat to see her, staring forlornly out across the night with her head resting miserably on her hand. Tears sparkled in her eyes like precious gems.
"Princess?" He called up tentatively. He had not expected her to be crying. "Princess Adora?"
She jumped at the sound and rubbed furiously at the tears in her eyes. She peered out into the night, trying to find him among the darkness. "Wh-who goes there?"
"Be not afraid, my lady." He stepped out into the patch of golden light cast from her window. He anxiously bent and twisted his hat.
"Forest Keeper? Or no, you are not! I have found out the truth to that lie, you wretch! Leave at once, or I'll...! I will...!"
"Adora, please, I beseech you! I am a wretch, and wretched indeed to know I have created misery and mistrust within you. I beg of you a chance to explain."
"Why should I grant such a thing? You are Grimholt, are you not? I have seen the wanted posters all throughout town."
"They don't do me justice, do they?"
"I should say not," she said bitterly. "The do little to your capacity for deceit. You are a dangerous criminal and an enemy to the crown."
"Princess?" Called the cautious voice of Lady Hersillia. "Are you alright, dear?"
The princess jumped at the sound. "Yes, Lady Hersillia. I am... just... practicing my diction?"
"Oh, very well. Your annunciation does need work, but do not stay up too late. That is how one gets wrinkles."
Grimholt had to bite his knuckle to stifle the laugh at the way Adora's face contorted with surprise and insult at Hersillia's reproach. But she wasn't sending him away yet, nor sending the guards. In fact, she was lying for him.
She looked for him again and spoke in a newly hushed hiss. "Go away! You will only bring more trouble to me if I am found out."
"Then come down here! We can walk in the cemetery and speak together there. The dead shall happily keep our secrets."
"Are you mad? How would I get down there without being spotted? I thought you were a criminal mastermind?"
"Jump! I'll catch you."
"You aremad. Then what will you do? Throw me back up when we are done?"
"No, just tell the guards you were sleepwalking again. Like you used to do when you were little.
Tell them that the stress of the day has-"
"Stop!" She nearly yelled, then remembered who might be listening. "How did you know I used to sleepwalk as a child?"
"Why don't you come down and find out?"
Her face scrunched up in a rather child-like manner that made him laugh, unable to bite back the sound. Her cheeks grew rosy, only deepening her frustration.
"You have already deceived me twice about your identity and intentions. How can I possibly trust you, the most wanted outlaw in the kingdom?"
"There is not one so-called outlaw in all of Stormwatch who would hurt you, upon my own command. Least of all I," he scoffed. Then voice dropped into something rougher. "I never laid a hand on you, Princess. Even when I could have. Even when it would have been so easy."
"I... suppose that is true," she whispered, recalling each previous encounter between as she had done since the contest. She had been wracked with confusion and hurt, feelings which still echoed through her now. Still, hadn't she prayed for clarity?
Looking down upon him, she realized he wore no mask. He was concealing nothing for the first time, though the darkness hid him from her. The memory of another fall, a ribbon drifting down in the hopeful daylight, played at the edge of her mind. She had given him a piece of herself then, without knowing who he truly was. Now that she knew, she didn't know if she regretted her decision... or if she wanted to make it once more.
"Do you believe you could catch me, truly?"
"Without a doubt! I'm the strongest outlaw in all the land or sea! Well, I suppose Gristle is stronger than myself, but he's a gentle giant, and... I am rambling. Come down, Princess. I promise you will be safe."
She sat on the window sill, smoothed her skirts, and braced herself. He held his breath. Perhaps it was she who was mad all along.
Then she jumped.
She landed in his waiting arms, and though he staggered back a step, he held her tightly. He had caught her. Adora's eyes were wide with alarm and just a little excitement.
Then he tossed her up and caught her again. Tossed her, caught her. "See?" he said, grinning now. "I could catch you from any fall, I daresay!"
"Put me down!" She was trying to sound stern, but the affect was lost on him. "Put me down at once!"
"As the lady wishes," he said, and tipped her onto her feet. Upright again, she backed up considerably away from him and tightened the shawl about her shoulders.
She looked as though she were sizing up the threat of a snake that had slithered unwelcome into her garden. "Well? What have you to say for yourself?"
Grimholt began to walk away, and spoke casually over his shoulder. "No, no. At the cemetery. More dramatic that way."
"How do you know the way to the cemetery?" She asked eventually.
"You still haven't figured it out yet?" He shook his head, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval. "Ah well, let us first get to our destination. Then I will explain. I promise."
She only frowned in response, and with no other choice, followed him. They walked side by side, at a great distance, down the paths to the cliff that overlooked the calm ocean. The moon hung above its surface like a rippling pearl. An iron gate stood sentry, its massive door half open and leading to the ancient cemetery beyond. Grimholt grabbed one of the enchanted torches, running his hand theatrically through the flame that would not burn him.
"You know," he said, holding it between them to illuminate their faces. "We should probably hold hands."
"Do not overstep yourself, Outlaw."
His shoulders slumped, just a bit, and he smiled sadly at her. She was like an injured fox, frightened and timid, but willing to bite.
"Come, walk with me." He folded one arm behind his back while the other lit their path with the torch. "I am sorry to have deceived you. I hope you know that I never meant to become the Forest Keeper in your eyes. Mind, I never claimed to be, but I suppose I did snap at the chance for deceit. It was a rather convenient way to converse with you openly. I couldn't very well be known as Grimholt to you! Enemy of the crown and all that."
She stopped short, forcing him to turn on his heel to look directly at her. "Who are you? What is your fascination with me? To go so far as to fake being my suitor? For what purpose?"
"No, you misunderstand." He longed to reach out to her, and cup her cheek in his rough, unworthy hand. To pull her close and hold her to him until she understood everything. "In the forest when you told me of the contest you were so beautiful, and so gently pleading for romance. I knew I could sweep you off your feet, better than anyone. I never meant to take you for a fool, or to ruin your chances at a better match. Forgive me, my lady, for I was weak, foolish, and heartsick."
"You did wish to be my suitor?" She asked softly.
"More than anything! Though I'm unworthy of it... for every possible reason. I have nothing to offer you, Princess, no money, or noble name. Only one thing: love. True love, because I do love you, Adora, truly. I have been yours since childhood."
"Childhood?"
He chanced a step closer, and she did not flinch. He held out his hand. "Please say you remember me. Say you hold even one small memory of me close to your heart. Sylven, that was my name then. My father was your gardener and-"
"Andre was always my favorite, the one who planted roses for me. His son... he was my best friend." Fat tears slipped down her cheek. She tasted salt as she tried to laugh. "Oh, how stupid I've been! Of course I remember you."
Without a word, she pulled him to her. He dropped the torch, wrapping his arms around her as she buried her face into his chest. He held her like he never wanted to let go. Her shoulders trembled. His own tears fell into her hair.
For a long time, they said nothing. They just held one another and cried.
"What happened to you?" She spoke into his chest, her voice muffled. "After your father died, I never saw you again. I have missed you, terribly. It has been so long that I forgot your name! I searched for you and yet here under my nose the whole time. Oh, how stupid-"
"Shhh, my sweet lady, enough of that," he soothed, his voice warm in the cold night. "When I returned to Stormwatch, I was determined to stay away from you but you found me and declared me forest keeper. I thought it harmless to keep up the deception if it meant I could see you and speak with you."
Her face brightened in sudden understanding."The night of the ball, you wished to tell me stories of your adventures. Were you going to tell me everything that happened that way?"
With great effort, he suppressed the urge to kiss her.
"You have always been so clever. Yes, exactly. Quite a few of the best stories are from after I returned to the Kingdom, but I am getting ahead of myself. After my father died, I was made to leave the palace. I pleaded to say farewell to you, but Nicobar forbade me. The first time he used the Sheriff against me. Nicobar has harbored a special hatred for me from the start, I suppose."
She took a step back, the light from the torch and the moonlight illuminating the familiar stranger before her. His dark, auburn hair was tied back and his clothing was modest, patched. Perhaps rough around the edges, but he was handsome. She had tried to picture the man- the outlaw, the suitor, the forest keeper- and could not have pictured him so.
The little boy in her memories felt incompatible with the man she now saw. The cutlass hung defiantly from his hip. He was sharper now, and though he was charismatic there was a tension to him. The guarded quality of a man who had known pain in many forms, a rose with great thorns. His face and hands too bore the fine, white lines of scars, of memories made without her.
"Oh, Sylven, you were just a child..."
"Come now, enough tears. I'm alright, look at me. Strong and dashing, right?" He flexed an arm and winked at her. At least his eyes had never changed.
"And so modest," she laughed, drying her tears.
Hands entwined, they walked slowly down the path through the cemetery. The dead slumbered in their graves that lined the well worn footpath. Waves crashed into the cliff far below in the easy moonlight.
"I was found by pirates, you know. They took me in for years and I lived a life at sea. That's where I learned to sword fight, among other skills."
"Tell me, what was it like?"
"Ohhhh, you name it. Swashbuckling, adventures galore. Dangerous, wild magic in the ocean and abroad. My darling, I cannot do justice in explaining the storms you experience at sea, the way the magic twists and changes them. Let's see, there were also far away lands and exotic foods and women-"
The princess made a small, indignant huff. Grimholt smirked, tugging her hand to pull her closer. "Now now, don't be jealous when you've only just learned of my affections for you. Especially not when you have so many others vying for you hand! Certainly you must know that not one soul I met could compare to you, Adora. You blossom, you gem, you saintly-"
"Alright, alright. I understand. For the record- I am not jealous."
"Mmm, you are still a terrible liar," he said, which only made her blush more hotly. "My heart was empty, however, for the land I once called home and for a friend I had to leave behind. It was not very long ago now that I returned home only to find the Kingdom far worse than I had left it, and the people desperate for a helping hand. It was never going to be Nasty Nicobar, who abuses the loyalty of the royal guard and uses them as his private cavalry? Who throws away the kingdom's wealth on one spectacle after the next while his citizens go hungry? No, I am not the same little boy who fled from Stormwatch and from the Prince. I have grown up now, I have sharper teeth and a bloodied name. You asked what made me Grimholt? Fighting back."
They stood now before the tomb of Duke Francis and Lady Bridget, her late parents. He pulled her against him and held her, one arm around her shoulders, for a long while.
"I should have brought flowers, for them," Grimholt said. "I do not blame you for what Prince Nicobar has done, I hope you know that. You are a victim of him as well. He is willing to sell you off to the highest bidder, but have you also realized the loophole?"
"Loophole?" She asked, looked up at him. He glanced down, and smiled.
"The one that allows me to become your suitor." Her eyes widened as she tried to puzzle it together, then it clicked. Sylven had indeed knocked Nicobar off his horse, thus winning his joust by the rules that the Prince had himself set.
"Prince Nicobar is livid and punishing everyone. He is planning to reforge the Sheriff!"
"I would fight off 100 Sheriffs just to see you, even from afar. I'm your suitor now, my lady, and Nicobar cannot change that."
"Yes. Suitor..." Her smile faded, but Grimholt did not see. He was staring at her parent's grave, deep in though as the torch light burning in his eyes. "You say you love me?"
"I do, Adora. As a child I loved you, but I could not understand then. Over the years, that love only deepened and became more true. A man can only spend so much time of his day adventuring and gallivanting before eventually his thoughts turn more soft. Long nights out upon the sea with its endless horizon.... but that was time in which you did not know if I was alive, possibly you assumed me dead. I could not fault you if you do not love me in return."
"You were marvelous today, during the contest."
"You think?" He smiled at her, grateful to veer away from painful territory. "I was trying not to be a braggart."
"Quite a show to put on if you are trying to stay humble." "I said nothing about humble."
"It is a shame that you did not get the chance to truly win. I think you would have." "I was greatly looking forward to the reward."
"Would you have unmasked yourself? To receive it?"
"You see, the worst shame of today is that I had such a wonderful plan! I was going to unmask myself only to you, hiding us behind that big, stupid hat. A silly costume I selected from our pile, but perhaps it has served as a symbol of healing to the people. I was going to hide us from Nicobar, then kiss you in the ways I had been dreaming of since the days I gazed up at the star painted sky over the ocean and wished for you. In the way you deserved."
"There is no doubt within me that you would have won today, Sylven. I wished you luck, after
all."
Grimholt felt suddenly quite fragile, like even breathing too hard might shatter this dream.
He reached out and tentatively cupped her cheek in his rough hand; she leaned her face into his palm and closed her eyes. Slowly he pulled her closer, his other arm finding its way around her waist while hers snaked around his neck. His eyes closed too, heart slamming in his chest. At last, their lips met.
He had always longed to kiss her, before he even knew what a kiss could be, and well after he had experience. More than once he had tried to drown his sorrows in someone else, but it was only ever her he truly desired, and none could ever compare. He held her steadfast, feeling her soft and small body against him. They parted for a moment, for just a breath, their eyes both burning in the torchlight. Then they kissed again, and again, and again.
He kissed her like he might never see her again.
"Run away with me," he said breathlessly when they pulled away again.
"Run away with you? Become a bandit?" She laughed, then added softly, "you know I cannot."
"I know. Then let us imagine the alternative, shall we? I am your suitor now. What if you married me?"
"Grimholt, I-"
"I know the enormity of your decision, but just imagine the good we could do together, Adora."
"Do you think King Finbar would allow me to marry the most wanted criminal in the Kingdom?"
"The Good King makes the rules. When he sees how Nicobar has kept watch over his domain, I think perhaps there is room for this criminal to be pardoned."
"Perhaps," she said somberly, and settled herself even deeper into his strong arms. The night had become more cold, a chill wind cutting across the waves. "It may not be an easy road ahead of us."
"Easy roads are never the ones I tread. Anything is possible. I practically rose from the dead for you tonight."
"That is true." She smiled, and pressed another kiss to his rough hand. "Anything is possible. Anything."