Swoosh… bang!
"Another bullseye!" Richard exclaimed, patting Guinevere on the back. "At this rate, the student will surpass the teacher."
"Oh, don't be coy, Father. Admit it, I'm already better than you," the girl said with a smirk. She nocked another arrow and released it, striking yet another bullseye.
"Don't get too cocky, Guine. Your old man's still got it."
Richard grabbed an arrow from his quiver, drew his bow, and aimed at the target.
"Richard!"
Startled, he released the arrow abruptly, missing the target entirely. He turned to see his wife glaring at him.
"Hello honey," he said sheepishly. "You look quite lovely this afternoon."
"How many times have I told you to keep your weapons away from our daughter?! She could lose an eye for heaven's sake."
"But, mother, I'm more careful now," Guinevere protested. "Father and I have been practicing every day and—"
"Every day?!"
Richard elbowed his daughter. "Shut up Guine, you've said enough." he whispered.
Guinevere was now thirteen and blossoming into a beautiful young lady. Her orange-brown hair reached her waist, and her feminine figure was becoming pronounced, much to her mother's delight.
Having such a beautiful daughter meant Gezelle could dress her in gorgeous gowns, teach her poise, and perhaps, one day, hope for a handsome suitor to sweep her off her feet.
But day by day, her perfect picture crumbled. Guinevere showed no interest in dresses, shopping, or suitors. Instead, she hunted with her father, sword-fought with the village boys…and won. She preferred practical, rugged clothing over anything remotely "lady-like."
Gezelle walked toward her daughter and husband, sighing. "Jillian is coming over. He says he has something important to discuss with Guinevere."
Turning to Guinevere, she added, "Can you please be on your best behaviour? For me?"
Jillian and Guinevere had grown close over the years. Gezelle noticed the boy seemed to have a crush on her daughter, but Guinevere… either ignored it or was completely clueless.
"And please wear something—" Gezelle glanced at her daughter's slit leather-and-dagger ensemble "—a bit more flattering."
Guinevere looked down at her outfit.
[What's wrong with my clothes? I think I look pretty amazing.]
"I've picked out a lovely dress for you," Gezelle said, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulders. "Jillian is a handsome and well-mannered boy. Who knows? Maybe you two could blossom into lovers."
"Eww, Mother, no!" Guinevere shrieked. "Jillian is just my friend, that would be wildly inappropriate."
Gezelle took her daughter's hand, shooting her husband a look that said I'll deal with you later, and dragged Guinevere away.
*
Knock knock.
Gezelle opened the door, smiling at the young man standing there. "Jillian, welcome! Please, do come in."
Jillian had grown into a tall, handsome young man with deep brown eyes and matching hair. His body was well-toned from years of hunting and sword practice.
"Thank you Mrs. Strongbow," he said, handing her a small sack of freshly killed meat. "This is for you, caught this morning."
"Oh, thank you, Jillian, you're such a gentleman."
"Is Guinevere here?"
"She is," Gezelle replied. "Take a seat. I'll fetch her for you."
Jillian nodded and sat, taking a deep breath as his heart raced and palms sweated despite the crisp autumn air.
Moments later, Guinevere walked into the living room. Jillian rose to greet her, gulping at the sight of the beautiful girl approaching.
She wore a light blue dress that matched her eyes, her hair down, light makeup on her perfecly shaped face, looking like an elven princess from a fairytale.
"Guine…" he muttered. "Hello."
"Hello, Jillian. Mother tells me you wish to speak with me about something important?"
"Uh, yes. Yes, I do," he stammered nervously.
Guinevere sat and looked at him. "Well, what's going on?"
In this timeline, thirteen was the age when girls were considered old enough to receive suitors' attention. Tradition allowed a young man to declare his intentions, and if reciprocated, courtship began until the girl turned sixteen, after which marriage could be formalized.
Jillian had realized his feelings for Guinevere early on, not just for her beauty, but for her uniqueness. She was skilled with a sword, proficient with a bow, adventurous, and utterly intriguing. Today, he would finally confess. He'd been practising for weeks.
"Guinevere, you and I have been friends for a very long time," he began. "And, um… well, you're thirteen now. And I… well, the timing seems appropriate."
His voice trembled. "You're different from other girls, and you're at that age, you know."
Guinevere frowned. What on earth was he saying? "At that age? Jillian, what do you mean?"
He took a deep breath and gently held her hands. Her eyes widened at his touch, her first informal contact with a male other than her father.
"Guinevere, I harbor feelings for you," he said. "I have for a long time, and I think it's time you knew. I think you're amazing, and I hope you think I'm… well, great too."
Her heart skipped several beats.
[crap… crap… crap… crap. I totally forgot about this love nonsense.]
Having lived many lifetimes, Guinevere avoided attachment, especially romantic. When she died and was reborn, she remembered everyone she cared for but could never be with, and it hurt. She had to guard her heart.
"Jillian, I—"
She hesitated. This was her friend, they'd literally grown up together. Could she really break his heart?
[I know I'm going to regret this.]
"Jillian, I think you're pretty great too."
His eyes lit up. "Does that mean.."
"Yes, it means your feelings are reciprocated," Guinevere added, as if reading his mind.
The boy rushed forward and hugged her, and she froze. This was her second informal contact with a male other than her father.
"Thank you," Jillian murmured softly.
Guinevere hesitantly wrapped her arms around his back and returned the hug. She smiled awkwardly, patting his back. "Don't mention it."
[Really… please don't mention it.]
Meanwhile, outside, Gezelle, who had been watching through the window, squeezed her chest as if it would burst with joy.
"Oh, my little Guinevere," she whispered.
Finally, her daughter could have a beautiful, normal life.