People always say you can never feel when your life takes a wide turn and changes into something completely different. They say that you don't know what changed your life completely until you’re old and grey.
He knew when it changed when everything he knew tipped over. It was when she walked into the room, bright red in the sea of blue. It was her gaze that changed something completely primal in him, something he never had control over. Sigurd would always split his life, from here on there, in two halves. Before and after her.
Before her, he was the good son. He was second born, but his father’s favorite. A soft, quiet boy who would listen to what others told him before he’d reply. A studious and hardworking lad, always doing what he was told and excelling in anything given to him. His father’s pride and joy. Often his father would brush his hair and ask him why did he have to born second.
Yet, Sigurd never craved the throne. He was his happiest while reading his books, happier when he was riding in the woods, happy when he could brush along the normality of life rather than having everyone stare at him with high expectations.
His father’s favorite, he was brought along everywhere where his father went. So, when his father received an invite to a summer castle of one of the high lord’s, he excitedly went, bringing his son along. After all, his father wanted nothing more than utter happiness for his son, so he told him he could pick any girl he wanted. His second born wouldn’t be forced to marry for power - he’d marry for happiness.
They arrived in the afternoon at the lord’s home, and the lord started to break his back trying to please the two. Sigurd never had any asks, while his father wanted to see this, hear that, go riding, talk about hunting, while his son just trailed along, giving quiet and soft answers whenever asked.
The good son.
His father clasped his son’s shoulder, breaking Sigurd out of his thoughts. “My darling boy!” His father spoke, giving him a toothy smile. “Are you enjoying yourself? I know you don’t enjoy large parties, but I’m sure the lord just wanted to appeal to a young man like you. If only he knew how mature you were.”
Sigurd smiled and shook his head. “Father - I am more than glad to accompany you. You have no reason to worry about me.” Satisfied with his reply, his father went to joke around further - and that’s when she walked in.
Red hair and scarlet lips, beautiful and mesmerizing.
The prince had to remind himself to breathe.
He wanted to go to her, wanted to ask her who she was. He had to know, his soul ached to hear her. Who was she? Where did she come from? Was she promised to anyone?
He didn’t even notice that his nails were digging into his skin how tightly he was squeezing his fists. Swallowing hard, the prince forced himself to organize every thought in his mind, collect his feelings and return to his usual composed self. He couldn’t let anyone know what he wanted.
Sigurd found one of the serving boys and took a goblet of wine, letting the sweet taste fog his mind. In reality, it wouldn’t be odd for him to try and meet her - especially if she was the daughter of the lord they were visiting. Yet, he didn’t want to put her in a predicament and pull attention that she might not want to her. He was a prince - even a second born prince was someone people listened to.
Still, his dark eyes would wander to her every now and then, watching her in her thick dress, memorizing every line of her face, the way she moved.
So this was what all those writers wrote of. Love, infatuation. Whatever it was, it made him nervous.
Watching her, he noticed she was always standing close to the lord of the castle. Was she his daughter? Could he try and strike a conversation with the lord to see if he could speak to her? Would he be too much?
If only his heart would stop beating so loudly so he could think.
