It was a sunny day. Bran was sitting in an apple tree, picking the sweetest looking fruit. Isabella stood under him with a wicker basket. After thorough inspection, he passed the apples to her one by one.
“I still don’t know what came over me,” Bran lamented.
“You really didn’t know it was Prince Rowan when you were talking to him? Honestly, the bright blonde hair should have been a dead giveaway. He has a very distinct look.”
“Well, I’ve never seen him in person before! Believe it or not, fae aren’t generally invited to royal events. Honestly, the portraits don’t do justice to how bea…” he paused “...how unique his appearance is.”
“Unique,” Isabella snorted. “I don’t think you’d still be talking about him a week later if you thought his look was just unique.”
Bran huffed. “Alright. I mean, there is a reason he's been pegged as a playboy. I can hardly be the only one who finds him handsome with the number of lovers he’s been rumored to have. But the main reason I can’t stop talking about him is because I still can’t get over what an absolute ass he is!”
“Ha!” she barked. “I knew it! If you found him so gorgeous, why did you hightail it out of there?”
“Uh, did you not just hear me call him an ass? Also,” Bran cleared his throat, “Fae peasants,” he gestured to himself, “and princes don’t generally mix. Also, it might be the fact that the death penalty could literally be on the table for lying to a royal.”
Isabella waved her hand dismissively.
“Besides, I insulted his entire family... I mean, rightfully so, but still. He probably thinks I’m an absolute bastard. I’d probably be hanged if he saw me again.” Bran sighed, passing her another apple. “Thank you again for your help. I don’t know why you are so kind to me.”
“I only do it because you’re my favorite bastard in the world,” she grinned, sticking her tongue out. “You shouldn’t be so upset. I doubt anyone has ever been that honest with him. He probably found it refreshing.”
“I highly doubt that,” Bran snorted. He tossed Isabella another apple. “Take a bite. How do they taste?”
She grabbed one of the ruby apples and took a large bite, juices flowing down her chin. “Oh my God, when you make the tart for the rest of the Carpenters please save me a slice.”
“You’ll be the first person I share it with, if I manage to get my hands on any leftovers. They’ll be back from their midweek mass soon. I best be leaving.” With a kiss on the cheek, he walked back on the dusty dirt track towards his quasi-home.
-
Atticus, Beatrice, and Kirk returned not long after the table had been set for their afternoon tea. They were all in a surprisingly good mood. They were so busy talking amongst themselves that they didn’t even acknowledge Bran as they walked into the dinning room.
He caught bits of their conversation. He’s finally come out of hiding! and This is our chance!.
Atticus practically did a jig as he waved Bran over. “Go open some champagne instead of serving tea, boy. We have a reason to celebrate.” Atticus grinned.
“Oh, may I ask what the good news is?” Bran wished with all of his heart that Atticus was becoming the viscount of a different town so the Carpenter’s would finally leave him alone.
“Not that it’s your business,” Beatrice sneered toothily, “But rumor is, Prince Rowan is looking for a bride!”
“Or groom!” Kirk added, his fat face full of excitement. “I heard he’s a fan of both. Not my preference, but could you imagine living in the palace? I’ll be taking my shot anyways.”
Bran nearly choked on his own breath. “What?!” he gasped.
“The best part is, hardly anyone knows.” Atticus said with a self-satisfied smile. “It seemed like such a wild rumor at first that I didn’t believe my contact inside the castle, but the King is holding a soiree for all the nobles tonight. Looking for potential suitors must be the reason for the meet and greet.” Atticus smiled so large that practically all of his teeth were showing. “As further evidence, the prince has also enacted a law allowing the sale of books to all women.”
Bran nearly choked again. “What?” he coughed, attempting to take a sip of water.
“Yes, looks like he’s finally getting involved in politics. Getting ready for kingly duties,” Atticus paused. “Though I’m not sure why he chose that of all things to start with.” He looked at his children while stroking his long salt and pepper beard. “We need to decide what you’re wearing tonight. We could be living in the castle instead of this dingy manor. This could be our chance to move up. We’ll need to go over some talking points- it’s imperative you be as charming as possible.” His eyes seemed to go beady for a moment. “Play to the prince’s interests.”
With his head spinning, Bran spent the afternoon washing some of his step siblings' finer clothing as they primped for their evening at the castle. He had a strange feeling in his chest that he couldn't quite place. Probably melancholy, but only because he felt bad for Rowan, being manipulated and hunted for sport by his awful step siblings. That must be the only reason, he told himself.
Bran let out a heavy sigh. He decided that he would spend the evening moping by the lake. It’s not like he had anywhere else he should be.
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