But it's not like him to up and leave abruptly. That was the kind of thing his brother did. Perhaps the king and queen would realize how important this was to the little prince and spare him of their wrath.

     After all, he seemed the better-favored son.

It wasn't fair.

   Elden was the firstborn. He deserves to be treated better. Far better.

   

          But all to know, all to see, the mother and father were indeed upset, and Young had to excuse himself while they also exchanged angry words to each other and Elden, who for once had something to say.

"Young!" the girl exclaimed from the midst of the bordering oaks. Young's face lit up and he momentarily dismissed his worries. 

She had arrived from the edge of the common town, alone and prancing dreamily. He had strode out of the palace of pearl and gold and hierarchy and into a blossomed courtyard.

He felt free with the lack of restraint, explaining to a royal gardener that he was going out for a stroll and was not to be disturbed. He also made sure to compliment the gardener on her hard work within the hedges of green and twisting trees in their blackened cages. The blossoms, however, were near impossible to maintain.

    "Rashelda!" Young ran to her, shaking flower petals out of his hair. They met in between the short but flowy apple and apricot trees and the tall oak trees.

         

     It snowed flurries of warm tear drops of silk and pleasantly scented gentle touches.

Rashelda wrapped her arms around one of his, pecked his cheek with a soft kiss, and lead him away.

     He sported a warm brown vest with golden thread embroidered into paisley. His white shirt underneath lay its sleeves rolled above his elbows, allowing skin contact with the girl's pale hands.

    She wore a necklace today, a copper-wired braid with interwoven redwood beads of three little spheres. It reflected sun warmed petal snow against her darkened blue velvety dress, this time flat and ruffleless.

The wind blew drab and was picking up, but she wore her hair down.

   

"Oh my goodness. Your hair is the utmost gloriously done- again," the prince mentioned clumsily, reaching out with his free hand and stroking a strand over her shoulder. She laughed once, a sound that echoed out into the hazy-golden dappled forest under the afternoon sky. Now there weren't petals falling, but various flying seed pods spreading through the land via wind current.

   Rushings of water nearby could be heard by this point. The fresh couple had walked gradually, not speaking for minutes at a time.

  They came upon a clearing, a meadow of soft grass and the occasional bramble. Young situated himself beside a lonesome bystander of a tree and extended his hands out to her, and she sat down awkwardly in the dress. They laughed and basked under the shade of their roof of entwined branches, gazing at the crystally water and cattails from which toads sang.

They enjoyed each other's warmth and the beauty of their surroundings. Bold bushes down the hillside waved its many hands a hello to its neighbors while bees rambled about.

    There were things to talk about. Matters to speak of. They didn't dare ruin the peace quite yet.