She Met The King's Eyes

As they walked past the wall outside, flanked by verdant bushes, Alexander's gaze fell upon the two ladies awaiting the one whose help had been rejected. In a fleeting moment, his attention was fixated on the golden-haired figure, Guinevere, as beautiful as her name. Unlike her sister and cousin, she possessed a distinct allure that piqued his curiosity and she possessed no semblance to them.

Observing her, he noted the way her eyes darted down when they bowed. Alexander stared on until they met his gaze, and impulsively, he smiled at her, continuing on his way. Whatever it was about her, he would find out. Brand walked ahead of him, still clutching his arm.

Alexander didn't bother to look back at the fair lady, but for certain he knew, if Guinevere had approached him, offering to tend to his wound, he would not have rebuffed her assistance.

***

Gwen and Lucy lingered by the wall outside, waiting patiently for Beth's return. The tournament had ended, with the King emerging the victor, as most people had predicted. She leaned against the closest pillar, listening to Lucy talk, nodding at intervals. The Duke of Carlisle had sustained a few injuries during the matches and intriguingly, Beth had gone to offer him help dressing them. Her sister still refused the Duke's hand of friendship, but she was no fool. Soon or later, they would become friends. She only prayed it ended there or moved on to something greater and honourable. They waited carefully as she had asked them to.

From where they stood, which was quite a vantage point, Gwen's eyes followed after each man, observing the aftermath of the activities termed a man's sport. She 

watched as the King laughed at something he had said and did not fail to notice the disdainful glance the Duke sent his way nor the manner in which the Prince shook his head. Their relationship must be greater than she thought.

The Duke of Carlisle told them that he was a friend to the crown, she hadn't realized how great a friendship it was. It was a privilege to witness what most people in the Kingdom could only think of.

When Beth got to where the men were, the Prince, who was still clutching his wounded arm, bowed slightly to her and she returned the bow with a full one, before bowing to the King and the Duke of Carlisle.

Gwen continued to watch them. The King's smile widened as he said something else that earned him another sneer from the Duke. What was he saying?

"Are you even listening to me?" Lucy tapped her shoulder.

"I am." She was not. "Lucy, can you ever fathom how heavy their swords are?"

Lucy squirted her eyes. "I don't… I don't think I could. But Father says most weapons are made of steel. They should be quite heavy then. You know…"

Gwen was no longer listening. She did not mean to be rude to her cousin, but whatever the discussion going on over at the bench away from them somehow held her more than her conversation with Lucy.

The King tapped lightly on the Prince's shoulder, beckoning him to join him, away from Beth and the Duke. The brothers started away from the bench, coming in the direction of Gwen and Lucy.

"The King is coming over here." Gwen heard Lucy say.

"He is not. They are walking by." She corrected her cousin and they bowed as soon as the King and the Prince walked by.

The brothers were handsome and comely to look upon, their striking figures and good features sure to draw admiring glances from all who came upon them. Blessed with impressive stature, they stood tall and commanding, a testament to their royal lineage, and from the display of their physical prowess in the tournament, they demonstrated further that they were not only blessed in appearance but also formidable in combat.

The Prince sported hair longer than Gwen thought was customary for a member of the royal household, cascading down to his shoulders, and for the tournament, he had it tied neatly at the nape of his neck, a practical choice. The King on the other hand, kept his hair low, but long enough to cover the scalp of his head.

They walked proudly, their deliberate strides exuding a sense of pride and authority, as their feet made perfect and sturdy contact with the ground. It was befitting of men of their stature, accustomed to wielding power and commanding respect wherever they tread.

As she watched the King swing his arm with a smug smile still lingering on his face, Gwen couldn't help but draw a conclusion: he was a prankster at heart. She recalled the incident in the courtroom when he had ceaselessly teased Beth, exploiting the situation for his own amusement. Even now, as his smile visibly irritated the other men, it was evident that he derived pleasure from stirring mischief and causing a stir.

The men got closer and the ladies adjusted their stance to bow low. Standing up straight, Gwen raised her eyes to watch them continue by, but instead she met his eyes.

She met the King's eyes!

Gwen found herself locked in an unexpected moment of connection with him. She was frozen solid by his regard. Her gaze lingered on the king, a man cloaked in regal splendour yet bearing an air of mystery that intrigued and unsettled her in equal measure. The king did not stop walking and he did he look away either, instead, he did the most unlikely thing one could expect; he offered a subtle smile, his lips pulling up and his eyes dancing.

Gwen felt a jolt of awareness shoot through her, a fleeting connection that left her confused. Her eyes remained locked in his for a second more before common sense came to her and she quickly looked away. 

Unsettled, Gwen dropped her eyes to her feet nested in her boots. What was that? She wondered. How dare she look the King in his eyes? And why had he smiled at her? What did it mean? Repeatedly, she questioned herself, sensing an enigmatic allure that hinted at danger beneath his charm. She couldn't possibly be overthinking it. In the courtroom earlier, she had thought it a mistake but it was not. The King had looked directly at her!

Glancing in the direction they had gone, Gwen found herself pondering whether she was simply over-exhausting her thoughts or if her instincts were correct. However, one thing remained certain: there was an unmistakable air of peculiarity surrounding the King of her country, a strangeness that surely would be dangerous to explore.

Beth again rejoined them and they made their way back to their assigned quarters. The ambiance was charged with contrasting opinions on the tournament's outcome. Gwen, finally participating in the discussion with Lucy, rooted herself to her belief, feeling the Prince was more deserving of victory due to his mastery of weaponry, his youth and of course, his prowess.

"Dear Cousin, there is a difference between desiring to fight and possessing the requisite expertise to do just that." Lucy pointed out. "The Prince might be a master of swords, but he held back quite a lot. In battle, that's a loss already." She exhaled deeply. "Fighting is far from the desire, dear Gwen."

Her entire family knew of her desire to learn the art of weaponry and warfare, but they did not know of her reasons. They could never know of it for she would never tell. She could not hurt them with something so silly.

"I don't think they are so far apart." She countered.

"You do not?"

"I do not." She reiterated. "For something to ever exist, there must be a desire, a want. Whatever may be, I still think the Prince should have won."

Beth was following slowly behind them, caught in thoughts of our own. Whatever had happened when she went to the Duke of Carlisle kept her thoughts busy. Gwen decided to ponder on the reason her sister was so quiet than think to decipher why the King had smiled at her. Did he think of her as someone else? Or was the smile something he did in passing, without properly knowing? Or was he teasing her, like he had teased Beth in the courtroom?

"I still think the King is worthy of the win." Lucy continued. Gwen turned to her cousin, managing to focus on their discussion. "Perhaps the Prince should have emerged the winner, but until he learns to fight without hesitation, others will continue to win."

"Hesitation is a form of swordsmanship. One should know when best to hesitate, and when best to strike." Gwen said, trying not to think of the smile and the regard. "I think he mastered his weapons better. He showed remarkable skills."