They reached the Delen lands the following afternoon. Baudwin could tell when they were nearing the castle by the straightness of Rhiannon's back. The closer they rode, the tenser she became. 

They had barely spoken that morning, and he wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disappointed. In either case, it was clear that whatever had transpired last night was the furthest thing from Rhiannon's mind today. From what she'd told him about her parents, it didn't surprise him. It couldn't be easy to be back.

When the silhouette of Castle Delen appeared on the horizon, they discovered a dozen tents on the field before it. Baudwin's soldiers. They had agreed to meet him here when he returned, to escort him and his bride back to Ossol. That was no longer necessary. 

Was he disappointed? He wasn't sure. Rhiannon was not what he had expected, nor the sort of woman he may have contemplated for a wife. But she was unlike anyone he had ever met, and she had definitely grown on him these last few days. She was fascinating.

Rhiannon looked out over the tents and their inhabitants lounging about outside, chatting and polishing weapons. Some of them eating or playing a game. They were all wearing the Breoch colours; deep red and gold.

"The king is here?" she said, and if he didn't know better he'd have thought there was a hint of panic in her voice.

"Looks like it." Coward. She wanted nothing to do with him. Whether he was the king or the knight. So what did it matter if she didn't know who he was? They would part ways soon enough.

Castle Delen was an older building from the early days of the kingdom, their family one of the most influential, having been around since the inception of the kingdom. Same as Baudwin's family. They were meant to be allies, they always had been. 

But Baudwin hadn't catered to their every wish like his parents had, hadn't followed the path of the ruthless ruler that his parents had favoured. And the Delens' didn't appreciate the new rule. Didn't appreciate the lowered taxes and new laws on how to treat your peasants and servants.

Baudwin didn't much appreciate the Delens' either. Especially not after hearing Rhiannon's story of her past. It was unfathomable to him that someone could treat their own daughter that way. Or step-daughter. A petty, angry part of him almost wanted them to go ahead with the rebellion. Wanted to take his army and squelch them like the bugs they were. But the more reasonable part of him knew this to be foolish. He didn't want to risk the lives of good men in a fight unless he had to.

As they crossed the drawbridge over the moat and entered the courtyard, he noted that while the castle was old, they kept it in immaculate condition. The Delens' had definitely enjoyed the high taxes from their lands. Rhiannon was sitting ram-rod straight next to him, looking as if her back might break if she straightened any further.

Without thinking, he reached out and squeezed her hand reassuringly. Her head whipped around to stare at him, but rather than tell him off, she gave him a brief smile. Pulling the carriage to a halt, Baudwin jumped down, landing on his good leg. 

Holding his arms up to Rhiannon, he saw the captain of his guard walking towards him and promptly shook his head. As he helped her down, he saw his captain falter with a frown. When Baudwin gave him another discreet shake of his head, he nodded and turned away.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked. Rhiannon stood next to him, head tilted to stare at the old castle.

"No. But it must be done." She sighed. "This way."

He followed her in through the large door and through an opulent hallway filled with old portraits, ancient weapons and shields. A moment later they entered the Great Hall. It wasn't as grand as the one in the royal castle, but it continued the theme set in the hallway, showing off old, powerful ancestors and battle regalia. Large chandeliers with hundreds of candles hung from a vaulted ceiling, matched with similar standing ones along the walls. On a raised platform on the far side, Lord and Lady Delen sat in two massive chairs, not unlike thrones.

A murmur travelled through the hall as the soldiers stationed along the walls caught sight of them. Rhiannon hesitated for a moment, and Baudwin had to restrain himself from taking her hand again. Then she took a deep breath, straightened and continued down the middle of the hall towards her parents. 

When Lady Delen caught sight of her daughter, her eyes widened and she blinked a few times, as if warding off tears. She made to stand up, but Lord Delen placed a hand on her arm, and she settled back down.

Baudwin hung back slightly, walking a few steps behind Rhiannon. Close enough that he was there if she needed him, but far enough that he didn't encroach on her moment with her parents. 

Lady Delen shared the same golden-red hair, though hers had lost some of its lustre. In fact, it felt as if Lady Delen herself had lost some of her lustre. She reminded him of someone who was a pale version of their former self. Similar to a colourful shirt that had been washed a few times too many.

Lord Delen, unsurprisingly, looked nothing like Rhiannon. His hair was a dirty blond and while his physique was impressive, it was marred by too much drink and food, leaving his face puffy and red. He raised his eyebrows as Rhiannon came to a stop a few feet before the platform.

"Daughter, you've returned." There was no warmth in his words. No welcome.

"I am not your daughter." Rhiannon raised her chin a notch. It was inspiring to see her courage in the face of the man who had treated her so badly. She nodded towards Lady Delen. "Mother."

A muscle twitched in Lord Delen's jaw, but after a quick glance at Baudwin, he seemed to relax. Waving to the people gathered in the hall, he grunted, "Leave us."

When the hall was empty, except for the four of them, Lord Delen looked back at Rhiannon. "I'm glad you came. This marriage will be good for our family, and—"

"I'm not marrying the king." Rhiannon's voice was impassive, but strong.

Lord Delen stared at her. "Of course you are. You came all this way."

"Only to tell you I will not be a pawn in your political games." She stared her stepfather in the eyes. Dressed in a dark green dress, her beautiful hair flowing down her back in golden red waves, she was an impressive sight. "I will not be a part of this. Tomorrow I will leave, and I never want to hear from you again."

"Rhiannon..." Lady Delen stood and reached out a hand, but Rhiannon took a step backwards.

"No. Don't search for me. I want nothing more to do with either of you."

Tears were spilling down Lady Delen's pale cheeks. It couldn't be easy when your child wanted nothing to do with you. Lord Delen's face was turning an unflattering shade of puce.

"This is ridiculous!" he roared. "You are our daughter, and you need to do as you're told!"

"You lost the right to call me your daughter ten years ago," Rhiannon snapped. "Unless you chain me up and force me, I will not marry the king."

Lord Delen turned his desperate eyes to Baudwin. "King Baudwin? You're willing to accept this? Her refusal is jeopardising our entire deal!"

Orc's ass! He'd been so close to them parting ways without her ever finding out. Rhiannon's head whipped around to stare at him, her moss-green eyes wide, and he found himself rooted to the spot. The look in them made him feel as if he could have just as well thrust a sword in her back, and she'd not felt any more betrayed.

"You're the king?" She shook her head as if she couldn't quite believe it.

Not knowing what to say, he inclined his head. He expected her to yell at him, to rage, but she shook her head again and took a step away from him. He could almost see the prickly thorns she'd used to keep him away during their first days on the road grow back, shutting him out.

"I will make use of a room for the night," she said without looking at her parents. "Tomorrow I will be gone. No one follow me."

"Rhiannon..." He wanted to explain. Somehow. Make her understand.

Her gaze met his, but it was as if she was looking at a stranger. Not someone she'd shared so much with the past week. "That includes you," she said, her voice impassive. "No one is to follow me."

With that, she turned on her heel and left the Great Hall through a side door. Cursing, Baudwin hurried after her, his leg hurting from putting too much weight on it to speed up.

"Rhiannon," he called. "Stop!"

She hesitated at the base of a staircase leading to the upper floor, foot on the first step. To his relief, she turned around and waited as he crossed the distance between them. Once he stood before her, he wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm sorry." It wasn't enough, but it was all he had.

"You lied to me." It wasn't a question.

"Not exactly," he hedged.

"You certainly never told me you're the king."

"True."

"And you spoke of the king as if he was another person."

Baudwin grimaced. He'd made a mess out of everything and deserved her anger. Why wasn't she shouting at him? Her voice was impossibly calm, almost impassive.

"Would you like to tell me again how you didn't lie to me?" She crossed her arms over her chest and he looked down at his feet and shook his head. "I didn't think so."

"I'm sorry."

Her eyes flashed darkly for a moment, before her face slipped back into an impassive mask. "Quit apologising. It doesn't matter. We are parting ways and won't see each other again."

He wished she'd been furious. He wished she'd lash out at him. He deserved it. This nonchalance was worse than any ire she could have thrown at him. She turned around to walk up the stairs, and without thinking he reached out and grabbed her arm. Immediately, he was rewarded with the enmity he'd been craving.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped, pulling her arm out of his grasp. "Don't you ever touch me!"

"Talk to me. Don't walk away," he pleaded. The king. Pleading for even a morsel of her time. How things had changed since he first saw her.

"We have nothing to say to each other." Her voice was cold, but she was touching her arm where he had grabbed her.

"I would like to talk about us." He rubbed his aching thigh, it was throbbing after the hurried walk to catch her.

She scoffed. "There is no 'us'. There never was, and there will never be."

"I beg to differ. What about last night?"

A cold, surprised laugh escaped her lips. "Last night was nothing. I had trouble sleeping."

Baudwin clenched his jaw. She was infuriating. "I can't speak for you, but I enjoyed our time together. Not only last night, but the journey."

"You're a fool." She shook her head. "Why would you allow yourself to grow attached to me? You knew I would never marry the ki... you."

"I suppose I am a fool," he agreed. "You're not like anyone I have ever met before."

"That's a good thing."

"What does that mean?"

"We have nothing more to say to each other. Go on. Live your life. Find another woman to marry."

"I want you." They stared at each other. He hadn't meant to say the words out loud. It wasn't as if he was in love with her. They didn't know each other well enough. But if he had to get married, he wanted to marry her. It would help him stave off the potential rebellion and, more importantly, never seeing her again was not something he relished.

"No, you don't."

"Why not?" He shrugged. "I don't want a rebellion. And I enjoy your company."

"Well, you shouldn't," she snapped.

"You have yet to give me a good reason."

Her moss-green eyes stared at him, glittering dangerously. "I don't owe you anything. I told you repeatedly that I don't want to marry. Not you. Not anyone."

Baudwin leaned heavily on his cane. This discussion was exhausting, and the pain in his leg was increasing. "I'm sorry," he said finally, sighing. "I suppose I hoped that you might have enjoyed my company like I did yours."

"You lied to me," she reminded him. "You were my escort. That's it. And this is where we part ways."

"If you change your mind, you know where to find me." He smiled wryly. "You know. The royal castle. In Ossol."

She climbed a few steps before stopping and turning back to him. For a moment his hopes soared.

"A tip," she said, her voice dispassionate. "Next time you meet someone, tell them who you are. Most people don't appreciate liars."

"Duly noted," he muttered.

"Good bye, Sir Baudwin." The sarcasm dripping off the word 'Sir' was so thick he could have reached out to touch it.

Frowning, he watched her form disappear up the stairs. With that level of contempt, there was no way she was as unaffected as she pretended to be.

~~~~~~