Music in the Woods [4/21, Emmaline/Nikolai, C]

[Prince Nikolai Fyodorov]

Although yesterday had proved to be a long one, Nikolai arose early the next morning before anyone else. He always practiced the flute to calm him down and not being able to do so after the hunt yesterday made it difficult for him to have peaceful sleep. Perhaps it was silly to bring his flute along on the trip, but hearing the sweet tones of the flute was the only way he'd be able to relax.

He dressed himself in a simple tunic and trousers, slipping on his coat in a hurry as he grabbed his flute. In order to practice, he had to find a suitable spot far enough away from camp so his instrument would be out of earshot. Twenty minutes was all he needed, five minutes even.

His quick pace took him farther away into the trees until a layer covered himself from view and he finally felt as though he could relax. Not easy being a perfect diplomat, if even he was doing a decent job at all. The first song that came to mind was a simple, slow one, reminding him of regret and a slight hopefulness that the future would improve.

He inhaled and blew out into the flute, thankful for the low notes escaping from his instrument. Remembering the notes came easily to him, the song clear and confident. Nothing mattered except for him and the music. That was the way he liked it.

[Princess Emmaline Carlisle]

Emmaline was an early riser, enjoying the chance to see the world come awake and alive when it presented itself to her. The camp set up was comfortable enough, yet there was no muffling the unmistakable resonance of birdsong filtering through the flimsy barrier of canvas, no match for the thick, sturdy walls of Carlisle Castle. Roused to wakefulness, she dressed quickly and quietly to avoid waking her aunt and Lady Marisa, seizing a cloak before stepping out into the soft, misty morning of dawn. She shivered a little until she wrapped the cloak about herself, a nod greeting those few servants awake and already hard at work.

She demurred when the offer to make her an early breakfast was made, preferring not to put the good souls to any unnecessary work; keeping the King and his guests content was onerous enough, Emma was sure, but nodded when one of the knights indicated he would escort her if she wished to walk. Much as she might have preferred to walk alone, it was unwise to do so. He would, she knew, keep a discreet distance, giving her the illusion of privacy as she started off through the trees along one of the bridle paths.

As she walked, Emma paused and held up a hand when something unexpected caught her ear. The knight obligingly halted, remaining silent but alert as he too looked around to determine from where the sound - music, she realized - came, pointing in the direction he believed it to be. Following, she nodded for the knight to keep close, just in case as she crept closer, intrigued by the foreign-sounding air. It was a soft, sad tune, one that could tear at the heart... but who was it that played?

[Prince Nikolai Fyodorov]

Nikolai continued to play his song, remembering when his father taught him it. A slow, sad tune like this always suited the crisp air of the morning, or the chill of the winter. He stared at the tree ahead of him and begun to run his gaze over the contours of the bark. His fingers moved over the grooves in the flute as he passed the middle of the song.

He was so intent on the flute playing that his focus on his surroundings was limited. The last few notes of the song drifted into the air and he sighed. Playing that had helped him, but not completely. Another song popped into his mind, another slow one with a lilting air, and he begun to play it not long afterwards.

This was the song he wanted to be played at his funeral. Beautiful, soft, with a tinge of anger underneath, unexpected turns.

[Princess Emmaline Carlisle]

Following the sound of the music, she spotted the flute player. Startled to see that it was the Prince of Sarkozsy, Emmaline waved off the knight who trailed her and moved silently closer. She did not want to startle him or interrupt the flow of notes that emerged from his flute, intrigued by this heretofore unknown aspect of him. They were to be married, yet there was so little she knew of Nikolai Fyodorov. This was a piece of him that intrigued her, especially the undertones of the song. There was beauty in it, true, but there was also something about it she could not put her finger upon.

Using a tree to screen her from his vision, Emma peeked around the edge to watch Nikolai. On first glance, he was absorbed in the playing, in the haunting melody, but she had a feeling that at the merest betrayal of her presence, that peaceful reverie would shatter and the mask those of their rank wore would be replaced. She nearly held her breath, one dark eye peeking around the bark at the solitary figure as her features softened. It was perhaps wrong to spy on him like this, but how else was she to gain glimpses of who he truly was?

[Prince Nikolai Fyodorov]

The first time he had heard this song had been from an old man, on the verge of death. Nikolai saw how the man's brow knit together as he played, followed by tears of regret prickling his eyes. Uri was his name and he composed the flute solo after his wife died, because she had loved it whenever he played the instrument. Every Sunday, Uri played his song and remembered when he had tea with his wife, exchanging looks as loving as when they were first married.

Nikolai desired to know the backstory of every song he learned so perhaps he could learn to appreciate them in the composer's mindset as well as his own. When Uri was on his deathbed, Nikolai played the song as Uri could not, watching as a smile crept on Uri's face and the last breath escaping his lips. Perhaps Nikolai had managed to summon the spirit of Uri's wife to guide her husband into the afterlife with his flute. He hoped so, anyway.

The last note drifted into the air and he lowered the flute to clear the spittle from the mouthpiece. He took very good care of the instrument, of course, as it was one of his only true means of expression. After he was finished, he turned to head back towards the camp. He was hungry.

[Princess Emmaline Carlisle]

The music that emerged from his flute nearly broke her heart. The mournful notes spoke of memories long faded yet radiated with pain. Closing her eyes, Emma swayed as if by instinct, catching herself on the tree to rest her cheek briefly on the bark. She drew in a slow breath, letting the music fade into the relative silence of the forest before it dawned on her that not only had it halted, but the Prince was in motion.

He was heading for her and likely to realize that she'd eavesdropped on what was clearly a private moment.

Chagrined, Emma straightened, aware that heat bloomed over her cheeks. Ducking back behind the tree, she tugged and brushed the bark from her skirts, standing in a place where he might or might not see her. If he did, she would deal with it. If he did not, she would consider it a gift and ensure he did not see her until she could make a more appropriate greeting to him in the camp.

[Prince Nikolai Fyodorov]

Nikolai tightened his arms somewhat closer to himself as the morning air snuck underneath his shirt, almost too cold to be comfortable. He turned somewhat to to the right, a figure appearing in the corner of his eye. Who was that? The princess. The color drained from his face and he froze for a second, realizing she was seeing him at his most vulnerable now.

She heard everything. What was he supposed to do now? His heart pounded faster and his gaze went above, to the trees and the leaves. If she was to be his wife, then she would learn about his flute playing soon enough. Better sooner than later, though he was not prepared to have this conversation. "Emmaline," he said in a quiet tone as he walked towards her. "I… did not mean to disturb you."

[Princess Emmaline Carlisle]

Oh, damn it all. He saw her. Running and hiding was no option, better to face up to the music, no pun intended. Emma stopped and faced Nikolai, aware she was decidedly red-faced and dead to rights. "Nikolai," recalling he didn't like to stand on ceremony, "You didn't. If there was anyone disturbed, it was you. I... I did not mean to intrude, but I wakened early and went for a walk. When I heard the music," she gestured lamely towards the path, then gave up.

Dark eyes lifted to his, full of chagrin and apology. "Forgive me. I should have turned and left you to your privacy, but the music was so beautiful, and haunting, I couldn't turn away." Emma tried not to fidget or squirm; it wasn't princesslike or appropriate. They were still virtually strangers, making these unexpected moments so cursedly awkward.

[Prince Nikolai Fyodorov]

Her manners were impeccable, he had to give her that. She seemed to be truly apologetic that she walked in on a private moment, when he was not dressed appropriately to have a conversation with his betrothed. Still, this was more real and he had wanted a moment where he could judge the true nature of her character.

"Your apology is accepted," he stated, "but I must admit that I am glad to hear your appreciation for the music." Perhaps he might take a chance on her and share the story behind the song. "It is a composition of an elderly gentleman who lost his wife. Uri played it very Sunday to remember her and I played it on his deathbed." His eyes softened then as he thought of Uri. "May the Creator protect his soul."

[Princess Emmaline Carlisle]

Matters between them were still far from settled and she did not want to be responsible for any displeasure or severing of the agreement due to her own conduct. Emmaline was relieved when he accepted her apology, the gentle smile returning when he shared the tale behind the song. "That poor man. He must have loved her very much to play it every week in her memory... and it is good of you to keep his memory alive too. Was he a good friend?" She had not missed the change in his eyes and expression when he spoke of the old man, someone who clearly touched his heart.

"Will you walk back with me to the camp, Nikolai? The woods are lovely first thing in the morning when the mist weaves through the trees and the birds are just starting to wake." Her voice was low, respectful of the hush that pervaded the area. Emma found herself wanting to spend time with this aspect of Nikolai, to explore its depths and see what she could learn of him to better understand the man who was intended to be her husband.

[Prince Nikolai Fyodorov]

Situations were only as awkward as people made them and he preferred not to feel uncomfortable this morning. Besides, as her future husband, Nikolai would take it upon himself to create the most pleasant atmosphere possible for the two of them. They might not know each other very well yet, but if they were relaxed, it would be much easier for both of them.

"He was," Nikolai answered. "He taught me a good deal about what a husband should do for his wife, and that any form of love, as well as memories, requires perseverance and maintenance."

He double-checked that his shirt was tucked and buttoned the ends of his sleeves before offering his elbow to her in response to his question. The morning was always a quiet time and he liked the crispness of the air just before the sun rose too far above the horizon. "I will." He gave her a small smile before they started to walk and he inhaled the fresh air. "When it's quiet like this, I can become lost in the silence."

[Princess Emmaline Carlisle]

Emma stole a glance at Nikolai as they walked, intrigued to hear him speak so easily, almost casually even, of love between husband and wife. A strange perspective indeed for one who was in an arranged marriage, but it planted a tiny kernel of hope within her that they might some day come to a level of affection between them. "I think that is true. It also requires some patience, understanding, and humility, I believe." The sting of pride could always be felt when forced to admit one was in the wrong, after all.

A soft smile bloomed as she accepted the offered elbow, her hand resting lightly on his sleeve while they wove a path through the trees. "I like it when it's this quiet. It's a good time to clear the mind and find yourself. Do you have morning mists in Sarkozsy as well?" Might as well start learning of her future home while the conversation was comfortable. Emma was quietly grateful to the Prince for his efforts to keep it that way; this couldn't be any easier on him either.

[Prince Nikolai Fyodorov]

"Exactly." She had a definite point and perhaps she was willing to give their impending marriage a chance. Being married to a nearly complete stranger was difficult, although he wanted to bridge that gap as quickly as he could without anything becoming awkward. "Those are all qualities I will strive to show." If she knew that, perhaps it would make her feel more comfortable with him.

Nikolai tried to think of what he could say about his homeland that would entice her. His advertising skills were not great, although he would try his best. "This is also why I practice in the early morning. Sometimes, it is better to be alone, or with someone who can also appreciate the nature." He did not want her to feel that her presence was unwelcome. She was different than what he expected and he was pleasantly surprised.

"There are morning mists, but only sometimes by the water. The capital is the warmest part of the country, at least. We Sarkoszians are built with thick skin, but not thick heads." He flashed an amused smile. "The hot springs are fantastic, though."

[Princess Emmaline Carlisle]

He was making an effort, therefore so Emma strove to match him. To her, their marriage was a foregone conclusion of which to make the best. If Nikolai was willing to grant her the opportunity to know him, she wasn't going to refuse. "I will try to do the same, then." Emma hesitated, then added softly, "We do not know each other very well yet, but I am hoping we can take more time to get to know each other."

Matching his pace, she nodded to his words. "I think we are both people who enjoy the peace of early morning. The quiet, the chance to be who we are without any pressure or expectations, to just... exist?" Lifting her gaze, Emma was striving to reach common ground with him. Their lands and cultures were very different; despite her studies, she couldn't begin to know everything about Sarkozsy or the Crown Prince.

Unable to help herself, she laughed. "Whereas we of Demeria are admittedly hard of head, but not hard of heart, thankfully. Oh, but hot springs... I have heard that there is one in the palace, in the lower levels and that it is used for bathing?"

[Prince Nikolai Fyodorov]

If Sarkozsy and Demeria were to be allies, then all parties involved needed to be open in order for there to be a successful relationship. Nikolai was young enough to want to be somewhat content with his marriage and do whatever it took to make her not hate him. He was more than relieved to hear that Emmaline felt the same. "I do believe that we can," Nikolai said. "In fact, I regard it as my first priority."

Quite an observation and more astute than he expected from her. "Yes." He nodded at that. "I believe in the necessity of living in the moment at times." Responsibility was a heavy burden and one that he was willing to take, although he needed a break every once in a while. "Music allows for that as well. Do you play an instrument or sing?" If she did, he'd be quite happy indeed.

Ah, the hot springs. An interesting topic of conversation. "You have heard correctly. Bathing in the hot springs is one of the joys and popular activities of our people. It is wonderful." He smiled. "What do you enjoy in your spare time?"