Snippet #2392466

Nikolas felt a warmth inside after seeing such a positive response from the princess. He liked making her happy. Truth be told, he couldn't help but feel himself get excited for the upcoming horse ride. Sure Regan would be there, but he had always enjoyed her childish humor. It would be a fine evening, one so far away from the shores of stress and discomfort. He deserved that semblance of peace. As she turned away from him and back to the herbal table he didn't realize his eyes drifting, admiring the princess' feminine outline and behind. When she finally spoke his eyes widened, and he jolted suddenly, as if somebody was there to witness his guilt. The feeling quickly subsided when he comprehended what she had said. Had she read his mind?

The whole competition with the princess' and subsequently the crowning of heir to the two great kingdoms never sat well with Nikolas. He respected Sebastien, as authority, mentor and friend alike, but upon hearing news about the great romantic game he was apprehensive. It was always in the captain's belief that the successor to good Sebastien would have to be someone of the highest integrity, an astute leader and experienced political figure -- not some schmuck from elsewhere that happened to woo a princess and be rewarded class power beyond comprehension. And it wasn't that he didn't trust the princess' judge of character, no, it was just that he was still stuck in regimental code where title was only bestowed upon merit, not the personal preference of a particular person. His eyes softened as his mind trailed away from that thought to the slender woman in front of him. It was as if everything Nikolas had ever done led to this moment. The blood, the sweat, and the toil. Staring up at the feint stars overhead as a young soldier, the pitter-patter of rain drenching everything around. The screams, the war cries -- monumental surges of emotion that threatened to move mountains. Conversations in the dark with friends gutted by arrows asking: "What purpose will I serve?", and "Who am I to be?".

Who was Nikolas to be? Successor? It never really crossed his mind, for Nikolas did not want to over extend his fortune thus far. But he saw more in Matilda than just an avenue to riches and power as others might have, and he could have cared less about any of that. He knew that he wanted her, and even worse it made him sick to his stomach to picture her with anybody else.

Take the lead.

He remembered one of his best friends saying that before charging forward into the fray, his body now strewn in dust across a field long-forgotten in the sands of time.

And so he did.

The captain stood up, walking over to Matilda as she busied herself with the herbal remedies methodically organized on the table. His gauntlet hand reached for hers, turning her around. He looked at Matilda with somber blues, raising her hand and kissing the top of it gently.

"The time is here, and the reward is great, milady," he smiled softly, "You have convinced me to join in the fray with the rest of the suitors," Nikolas' voice was sincere, and he was happy.

Whatever blissful peace the two shared at that moment was interrupted by a loud squawk. Nikolas had completely forgotten the swan was there in the first place. He looked at it, returning a glare.

"So long as there are no swans in the mix," the captain frowned.