Darelle

23

"The plague can be dangerous. It's dangerous especially because the dead count has rose to fifteen."

Rumpel listened to his princess as she did his tie for him. "I know." he confessed. "But I promise to help them and you know how I'm a man of my word."

"I don't want you to go and it's not like I can chain you to the bed, and expect you to stay."

He chuckled as his imagination ran a bit wild. "I have to go. The people . . . your people need someone who can help them in their time of needs. Rulers, who won't give up on them. Like you and me." he smiled at her.

She looked at him for a moment before she stood on her tiptoe and planted a kiss on his lips. "Show them who is the king of potions." she said under her breath as her brown eyes searched his.

He winked at her. "Bet that on our first born."

"You bet I will." she told him, before she stepped back to give him space.

He thanked her with a nod before he turned his reflection in the full length mirror, and appreciated the soft paper brown on him. "I look like I'm going to minster to lost souls. This would do."

"We all minister something to the soul. Good or bad vices to flocks." Darelle said, as she changed direction to his door. "Shall we?"

Rumpel caught up with her and placed her hand on his own. "I'm always ready."

He enjoyed the beautiful silence that greeted them as they strolled down the garden path like it would prevent the truth he would be gone for as long as possible.

"Do you want me to sent you letter to let you know I'm alive, daily?" he caught her on guard and watched her blank face transformed with a sad smile.

"I don't think they would allow it especially since the contagion is unknown." she said.

He knew about that as he talked to Midas about it the day before. But he didn't remember their last moment together was without a word and heavily clouded by emotions. "Then I'll write a letter to you in a journal, every day and when I returned, it will be first thing I give you."

They reached the palace gate, where a carriage awaited him. "Make sure you tell me everything in that journal." Darelle told him.

He held and studied the warmth and soft texture of her small hands. "I will be sure to write in french."

"Then you would've the honors of reading it, Rum." she said, before she hugged him tight.

He placed his head and kissed her forehead, burning the memory and everything in his mind to treasure every day in the makeshift camp for the affected. "I love you." he whispered.

It was time, and they pulled apart. He moved to the carriage, growing farther from her with each step when he stopped before boarding the ride and waved her goodbye. Even though he never wanted to.

She returned his gesture and top it with butterfly kisses as her eyes watered. Then mouthed to him, words he made out to be: I love you.

His heart tugged as he turned away from her with his doctor's bag in hand and entered the carriage that held some relief materials for the town—not knowing how it would take him to be back.

He settled in his seat and readied himself for a three day journey as the horse neighed after receiving a signal from the rider. Even though, the person assigned to take him there—was a lawman, he didn't trust the man completely especially after being stabbed to the back by a witch he thought had qualms about killing a fly.

A heavy sigh left him as he breathed deeply the pleasing scent of flowers from the garden that would vanish with the passing of the wind.

And he closed his eyes shut, allowing his mind to be embraced by a sweet dream.