"What time is he picking you up? Oh, this is so exciting!" Gezelle squealed.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think Jillian is taking YOU out for an afternoon of romance," Richard commented, watching his wife lay out several dresses for Guinevere.
It had been three years since Jillian had confessed his feelings for Guinevere, and in that time, their courtship had strengthened the bond between their two families.
While Jillian was head over heels in love, Guinevere had always kept her feelings in check. Sure, she agreed to the courtship, but there was no rule that said she had to love him in return.
"I think you should wear this scarlet dress," Gezelle said, holding it in front of her daughter. "It compliments your skin and is an auspicious colour. Scarlet symbolizes good fortune and fertility."
[Yeah, 'cause I'm definitely going for the lucky baby-maker look.]
"I appreciate the help, Mother, but I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself," Guinevere replied, placing the dress back on the chair.
It was absurd how her mother went out of her way to buy hundreds of brightly colored dresses she never wore. You'd think after all this time, she would have accepted Guinevere's choices.
"But you can't go see Jillian wearing that," Gezelle insisted, a look of dismay painting her face.
[Again… what the hell is wrong with my clothes?!]
"I've gone out with Jillian many times, Mother, and he's never complained."
"But today is different," Gezelle said. "Try to look nice for me, please."
"No, thank you."
Suddenly, a knock at the door interrupted the debate.
"Well, this is just perfect. That's probably Jillian outside, and here you are still wearing these atrocious clothes."
Richard sized up his daughter from head to toe and nodded. "I think you look just fine, Princess."
"Don't indulge her, Richard," Gezelle scolded, heading for the door.
"Don't mind your mother," Richard whispered to Guinevere. "Besides, how would you carry your dagger in a fluffy dress? Gotta protect yourself, you know."
Guinevere gave her father a grateful smile. He had always supported her unusual habits, whether it was hunting, sword-fighting, or wearing practical clothing instead of gowns. Having lived many lifetimes, she knew better than to abandon her survival skills. Being a helpless damsel would get her killed faster. She needed to be able to protect herself while living long enough to uncover the reason for her cursed cycle of death and rebirth.
"Guine…"
She turned and came face-to-face with Jillian Foreman. Over the years, Jillian had grown into a striking young man: deep, heavily-lidded brown eyes, a white, slightly fanged smile, permanently tousled dark hair, and a tall, toned physique. Among his five brothers, he was the most attractive.
"Hello, Jillian."
"Mr. Strongbow, sir," Jillian greeted with a bow.
"Good to see you, son. How is your father?"
"He's well and sends his regards," Jillian replied.
"Thank you."
Jillian then turned to Guinevere, smiling at her. No matter how many times he saw her, his heart still skipped a beat.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Let me just fetch my dagg—" she began, stopping mid-sentence as her mother's deathly glare froze her in place.
"Umm… let me just fetch my satchel, and we can be on our way," she said anxiously.
She walked past her mother toward her bedroom, but Gezelle followed closely. There was no way she would allow a dagger on a "date."
When the ladies were out of sight, Richard patted the chair next to him, motioning Jillian to sit. "Take a seat, son. I want to have a word with you, man to man."
Jillian gulped nervously. "Man to man?" That didn't sound promising.
He sat down and smiled tentatively.
Richard leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Listen, son, I understand you have… feelings for my daughter. I just want to make one thing clear—"
He glanced at the doorway to ensure the women hadn't returned. "Guinevere is my daughter, my only child. If I see even one hair out of place, I'll come for you. Your job is to keep her safe. Got it? I know where you live boy."
Jillian swallowed hard.
Richard placed a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. "Take care of her. Got that?"
"Yes, sir," Jillian replied.
"Ah, Princess, Jillian and I were just discussing how wonderful the afternoon he has planned for the two of you will be," Richard said with a chuckle as Guinevere returned. "A wonderful and SAFE afternoon, right, Jillian?"
"Definitely, sir."
Guinevere squinted suspiciously. "Very well then… shall we, Jillian?"
Jillian rose and took her hand. "Yes."
Richard muttered under his breath, "I know where you live," as he watched them leave. Jillian instinctively released her hand and smiled sheepishly. "Let's go."
Gezelle grinned, watching the couple disappear down the road. Oh, she could hear the wedding bells already.
"Stop scaring the poor boy, honey. He really likes our daughter."
"And that's the problem," Richard muttered. "She's growing up; she won't be our little girl forever."
*
"So where are we going?" Guinevere asked as they walked.
"It's a surprise," Jillian replied. "We're almost there, don't worry."
[Please let it be something actually interesting this time, not like the last picnic surprise.]
Previously, Jillian had planned walks, candlelit dinners, or meager picnics. Sweet, yes—but not Guinevere's style.
They arrived at a fenced clearing. Jillian opened the gate, leading her into a meadow of lush grass.
"Oh, another picnic?"
"No, not this time," he said. "First, I need you blindfolded until we reach the actual surprise."
"Blindfold?" Guinevere raised an eyebrow. "Okay… but if I stub my toe, you're in trouble."
Jillian chuckled, tying a handkerchief over her eyes. Once secure, he took her hand and led her deeper into the clearing.
After a few minutes, he released her hand and walked away.
"Hey, where are you going?!"
"One second," Jillian said, returning with a round object. "Stretch out your hand."
She complied, feeling the object press into her palm, followed by a crunching sound.
"What is that?!" she shrieked.
"Are you ready for your surprise? I'm removing the blindfold now."
Guinevere blinked against the sudden brightness. Her breath caught as she spotted a white horse, lazily chewing a piece of the apple she had fed it.
"Isn't she beautiful?" Jillian said.
"She is!" Guinevere cooed. "Can I touch her?"
He nodded, and she stroked the horse's smooth, white coat.
"Wow… she's majestic. I've never seen a horse up close before."
"She's yours."
Guinevere turned to Jillian, stunned.
"What?"
"You'll be turning sixteen soon, right? Happy birthday," he said, smiling.
Her mind short-circuited. "B-but… how? Where did you get the money?"
"I saved up from the game I sell and odd jobs around town. Took a few months, but it was worth it."
Guinevere ran to him, tears rolling down her cheeks. They hugged, and for the first time in three years of courting, physical contact beyond holding hands took them both by surprise.
Breaking the embrace, she smiled. "Thank you."
Jillian wiped her tears and pulled her close again. "Anything for you."