Phillip toed the floor with his boot nervously. He was standing in a hallway in King Stephen’s castle, about to be presented to his betrothed. It was ridiculous that up to now he still had no idea who she was. He had thought he’d found out, about a month ago, when he woke up one morning and the face of the girl he met at the Halloween festival was splashed on the cover of every newspaper. But upon seeing her, she had insisted it was all untrue, and Phillip was left to wonder yet again at the mystery of who he was expected to spend the rest of his life with.
If it had been her, it would have been a dream come true. But no.
He had met Aurora before once, apparently. When he was four and she just a newborn baby, and Phillip had the barest recollection of it. Indeed, for all he knew his memories were simply the result of accounts told him by other people who had been present. But what good would remembering that do him, anyway? It was impossible to tell what sort of person a baby would grow up to be, especially when he had absolutely no idea where she had been all this time.
Finally, the doors opened and he was allowed in. And there she was.
Phillip was stunned. He had asked her, point blank, that day when he had come rushing to see her, eagerly waving a newspaper about. Was she King Stefan and Queen Leah’s lost daughter? And she had said no.
But there she was, standing right there in the middle of the courtroom, looking every bit the princess she (apparently) truly was. Not that she hadn’t been beautiful when he had last seen her, but now her clothes reflected and emphasised this beauty. And suddenly Phillip found himself becoming uncharacteristically shy, though there was an immense feeling of joy blooming in his chest. He avoided her gaze as he greeted King Stefan and Queen Leah, though he could almost certainly feel it directed straight at him. He fidgeted with the cuffs of his sleeves, self-conscious.
Then, suddenly, everyone else was leaving the room, they were being left to get acquainted with each other, and wasn’t that a laugh? He cleared his throat and approached her. “Your Highness,” he bowed back when she curtseyed.
Then she said, outright, that she couldn’t marry him, and Phillip felt his joy ebb. Not ebb, shatter. He almost asked, “Why?” but then she continued, and Phillip realised what she was doing. And he realised that he really, really liked this girl.
Phillip mimicked a crestfallen expression, then straightened his back and bowed again. He looked straight into her eyes for the first time that day, and announced, “That is terribly disappointing to hear. Who is this man who has captured your eye? By your leave, I will go forth and challenge him. The better man will win your hand.”
He probably sounded ridiculous, mostly going off of clichéd lines spouted by cartoon knights. Phillip had never been one for the diction lessons his father tried to force him to attend.
