Lord Jacob Wardenfel, 18, heir to the Wardenfel Patriarch, stood in the main hall, back straight as he was taught, waiting alongside the rest of his family for their guests to arrive.

  The visiting family, the Bloomfields, were a long-term ally of the Wardenfel's main family, and were to be treated as guests of honour, as the Wardenfel's code of honour dictated.

  Jacob was doing his best at remembering all of the visiting Bloomfields' names and preferred honorifics, so he could greet them properly.

  And he was failing miserably. There was a single Bloomfield irritatingly occupying his entire mind, and he found himself lacking the will to even try to banish her from his mind: Agatha Bloomfield.

  His betrothed.

  The earliest he could remember meeting her was at seven years old, when the talks of marriage between the two families had begun. At nine years old, when he had been informed that he was to be wed to that girl who smiled too much for no reason, he found the idea repulsive, but had simply nodded, as he had been taught.

  Over the years, as they kept meeting, and especially once he breached puberty proper, he had begun finding the prospect more... interesting. Yes, she smiled all the time, but he'd learned that it wasn't for no reason. He'd found that Agatha had the admirable quality of being able to find joy in any situation and lock it within her mind, safe from being washed away by the bad.

  And, over time, he'd begun to relish seeing that smile, because no matter how much his heart ached, it never failed to soothe it and remind him that there was always good to be found.

  And now, today, they were being wed. No longer would he have to wait entire seasons to see that smile again. He would see it every morning.

  And that was all he could think about.

  His attention was brought back to the present when the double doors opened on the leading procession of the Bloomfields. He kept his features schooled, all the while his eyes frantically searched for a glimpse of her.

  The Wardenfel majordomo's voice boomed. “Announcing, his lordship and ladyship Ethaniel and Roberta Bloomfield, honoured guests of house Wardenfel!”

  The house guards leading the procession parted and took up positions on both sides, revealing the visiting nobles behind them. Ethaniel and Roberta at the front, followed by their two eldest sons, Curtis and Clifton, and, hidden behind them, Agatha, smiling as always.

  A delightful, blushing smile. She glanced his way, and her smile grew a bit wider. His heart skipped a beat.

  He battled and pushed back his impulse to run toward her and take her hand to land a kiss upon it, to feel her skin against his again. He gave himself a little shake and forced his mind into the role of the Wardenfel heir once more.

  His own father and mother greeted, and accepted greetings in turn, and the proper addresses and protocols were followed. It was half a bell before he even got to speak to Agatha; a simple greeting, during which he nearly lost control of his tone. She must have noticed something, as a corner of her lips quirked upward at the same time.

  Be still, my rebellious heart.

  While the kiss he landed on his betrothed's hand might have been a bit more passionate and longer than decorum asked for, he deemedd his performance during the whole process acceptable.

  Another half bell later, and the official greeting ceremony was done. Protocols suggested, but didn't command, that he now approach his betrothed's parents informally and offer them his best wishes.

  He took one step toward them, just for an insurmountable obstacle to step in front of him; Agatha. The smile she sent him made his feet forget they existed.

  They stared at each other for a few seconds. She, smiling, he, trying to coax something out of his brain. What was the protocol for this? The protocol... the protocol... Ah!

  He bowed slightly. “Miss Bloomfield, such a beauty you are. How may I help you?”

  Agatha stifled a chuckle. “Miss Bloomfield? Jacob, we've known each other for ten years, been betrothed for eight of those, and we're getting married in two days. I think protocol will allow you to call me by my name!”

  His expertly crafted expression fell, as panic poked a hole in his confidence. “I... hum. I'm sorry, Ag- Agatha. It is very nice to see you.” He said with the best attempt at a genuine smile that he could manage.

  This time, she couldn't hold in her amusement, and she lightly chuckled. “Jacob, you're just as ridiculously straight-backed as you've always been.” She said in jest before clasping her hands behind her back and leaning forward a tad. Just enough for her cleavage to reveal itself to his peripheral vision.

  He tried very hard not to stare. He failed a little.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The devilish woman chuckled some more. “It's nice to see you in good health, Jacob.” She said with a smile, before deflating a bit, her smile dampening. “It's been... a stressful few seasons leading up to now. All the preparations, and the lessons, and the prospect of what comes after marriage...”

  He frowned. “After marriage?” He asked, oblivious.

  She blushed and averted her gaze. “You know, the... bedroom stuff. Getting your own heir...” She explained, stealing a few glances his way.

  It took a few seconds for the idea to break into his mind, but when it did, his own blush was twice that of Agatha. Why was his collar so tight?

  His panicked-yet-expectant expression made Agatha forget about the embarrassing topic and flowed into full-on laughter. Nearby eyes turned their way.

  Jacob caught the curious stares coming their way and snapped to a decision. Protocol could wait, this time. He stepped up to Agatha and grasped one of her hands, pulling her away from the great hall and out a side door.

  Before she could ask him what was going on, they were out of the mansion, into the disappearing daylight, and heading toward the woods within the Wardenfel estate.

  “Where are we going?” She asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

  He glanced back at her. “I want to show you something. Away from eyes hungry for secrets.”

  She smirked. “Show me something? Lord Wardenfel! How bold of you! But, shouldn't we wait until after marriage?”

  He nearly tripped on his own legs, but managed to stay upright. He kept walking in silence.

  Her smile grew wide as she noticed the way his neck flushed pink.

  Ten minutes later, they arrived at what had been an abandoned secluded garden, or retreat.

  Had been, as someone had very carefully restored the quiet sanctity of this place; weeds had been pulled, grass had been cut, flower beds had been refurbished and planted. An old Gazebo, set on a small drop, just above a gurgling stream and tiny waterfall, had been rebuilt and furnished with a small table and loveseat.

  Jacob let go of her hand at the edge of the glade and stepped to the side before turning toward her, watching her reaction with rapt attention.

  Agatha looked around, her mouth open on subdued wonder. Apart from the one path they had taken to get here, the woods surrounding them were thick like a curtain. The resulting seclusion made this feel like a magical, private secret. She turned toward Jacob, her mouth clamping shut into a face-wide smile. “Jacob, what is this? It's so enchanting!”

  His own mouth began to curve upward before he caught it and stamped a polite smile in its place. He rubbed the back of his neck, a small blush gaining his cheeks. “This is... I've been thinking, as my lessons and duties as heir have been growing, that any time I would have to devote to you would probably be in short supply. I... didn't want to let my duties keep me from spending time with you, however, so I sought a way to be able to step away from it all.”

  Under her glistening eyes, he took a few steps toward the glade, speaking with the pride of a job well done. “So I found this place, and decided to rebuild it. My plan is to devote at least half a day to... well, us, every season, at a minimum. We can come here, and just be ourselves, away from our duties.”

  He turned around and, before she could say anything, held up his hand, palm up, toward her, in invitation.

  Her breath caught, and she took a few steps, offering him her hand. He smiled and brought her along, up the old wooden steps that led up to the gazebo. He directed her to the loveseat, having her sit, before taking the space beside her, his spine rigid as he did.

  Only a few centimetres separated them, and he seemed to be very aware of each one of them. “So, I spent every free moment I had over the past few seasons restoring this glade. I wanted to... it was to be my personal gift to you, for our wedding.”

  He fidgeted. “I'm... huh, sorry, I couldn't stop myself from showing it to you. I hope you don't mind that I-”

  His eyes went wide as Agatha's mouth swallowed his next words, as she planted her lips over his.

  And then, as the initial panic fled him, a blissful peace descended upon his mind, quieting every roiling thought he had. There was nothing left but him, and her, and the soft gurgling of water.

  A small eternity later, she pulled back, her eyes twinkling and the widest smile on her face that he'd seen yet.

  His brain fought through his shock, returning control of his mouth to him. “So... huh, you like it, then?”

  She sucked in half a breath, her mouth open on a word, before she clamped down on her runaway emotions. “Jacob, this is the best, and grandest, gift you could have given me.”

  She managed to tear her eyes away from him, to look around the gazebo in greater detail. It was clear that it had been repaired by unskilled hands, which had more desire than knowledge.

  And yet, it was perfect.

  She returned her eyes to him. “Jacob. Let's do as you said. Every season, at the very least, whatever happens, let's dedicate half a day to this place. Just you and me, our own little realm, to be with each other.”

  He smiled. “I swear upon this, Agatha.”

  She smiled back before leaning forward for another kiss, this time stopping short and allowing him to tread the rest of the way.

  It took him a few seconds, and a few aborted attempts, but she was eventually rewarded with his lips finding hers.

  They remained in the glade for several bells, well past sundown, where Jacob revealed the dozens of small light orbs he had positioned all around, like little stars.

  They talked, about themselves, about the now, and about the future. They made plans, shared dreams and desires, and lost themselves in each other.

  Eventually, they made their way back to the reception.

  A few days later, they were officially wed, Agatha taking on the Wardenfel name.

  For the next few years, they kept visiting the glade. At first, several times per season, and later, as their duties increased, they kept to their promise of the minimum half day per season.

  Eventually, they skipped some of them.

  And, one day, they met there for the last time, and never returned.

  As time passed, the weeds and grass reclaimed the glade, and the gazebo slowly fell to the elements once more.

  By the time their youngest was born, they had mostly forgotten it had ever existed, and their vows to make time for themselves with it.