Tristan didn't quite recall exactly how he had ended up here, at the top of the stairs that led to the servant's quarters with a wicker basket of sandwiches and desserts he had stolen from the kitchen. Well, it wasn't really stealing, he supposed, when this castle would soon be his. All he knew was that today had been a long one, with the missing servant and his growing stress about him choosing a bride by the time his Coronation came around. The deadline was approaching quicker than he had originally anticipated. Of course, there was also the business with his sister - being set up by their uncle to wed Tolentia's Prince.

He can't keep himself from wincing at the thought, the idea of her possibly moving so far away to the bitter and icy cold of the North made his free hand clench with anger. The Crowned Prince, Calor, he believed his name was, already had a reputation. He had overheard some of the guards speaking about him, about his ideas of how a woman should behave. That they should serve his every whim and greasy desire. The thought of his sister, Clara, wedding someone like that almost made him sick.

Tristan shakes his head, remembering that he was still standing atop the stairs. He needed to calm down. He was here for a specific reason, after all. A specific person. He felt his heart beginning to beat faster as he neared the second door to the right, inwardly cursing himself. He usually wasn't so nervous when talking to women . . . but this girl, she was different. He knew it sounded cliché, but he had no other way to describe her. From the moment he saw her at that cursed Farmhouse, what was it? Five, six days now? He knew he had to take her with him that instant. Consequences be damned. His Uncle was not pleased with Tristan for bringing her and her friend early, but the Prince couldn't find it in him to care all that much. They had her tied to a post with her bare back exposed for the world to see.

Enough, he reminded himself once more as he raises the back of his knuckles to knock on the door. It will do no good for her to see me upset.

It took a few seconds for the door to open, making Tristan wonder if this had been a good idea after all. A servant had just gone missing this morning - and it was already dark. But he had to try, he hated that he had little time to see Zerena during the day. Hated that he had to hide everything from her. That he had to act as if he wasn't dying to tell her his and his sister's true plans, that he was intending to pick out a bride. But really, he felt as if he had already come to a decision.

Finally, the door opens a crack, and he feels himself let out a small sigh of relief. When Zerena, who was about a head shorter than him, looks up to see who it was knocking at this hour, her eyes widen in surprise. Tristan can't help but to smile, but it falters as an unsure expression dashes across her face.

"Your Highness," She whispers softly, opening the door just a fraction wider, just enough to peek her face out of it. Strands of her royal blue hair fell just in front of her eyes. If Tristan had to guess, she was wearing only her night clothes - which, given the humidity of the night even though the sun had set hours ago, couldn't have been much. He feels his own face heat at the thought, and quickly raises the basket of delicately packed food for her to see. Zerena eyes it warily, though he can see a fraction of a smile playing on her lips.

"Have you ever had a picnic at night?" Tristan asks, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible. Her eyebrows raise as she flicks her eyes from the basket to his.

"No, I don't believe I have. But I'm not properly dres-"

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"Then get changed into something with pants," He cuts her off midsentence, grinning from ear-to-ear as he teasingly waves the basket towards her, "And meet me at the stables."

Tristan turns from Zerena before she could answer, but he didn't miss her mouth beginning to fall open in what he could only assume was astonishment at his request-well, more like demand. But her eyes hadn't looked sleepy at all. In fact, he had noticed the dim glow of candles still burning within her chambers. If anything, it seemed like she needed a distraction just as much as he did.

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Tristan already had his horse, Tempest, saddled and bridled by the time Zerena had showed up. She had a green cloak on with the hood wisely drawn over her head, hiding her unique mane of hair from view. Even if anyone besides the guards had spotted her leaving, they wouldn't be able to recognize her just from her silhouette alone. She approaches Tristan slowly, as if nervous she might spook his trusty steed. The coal black stallion's ears merely perk curiously at her as she raises a hand towards his muzzle. He extends his neck, chuffing warm air as he scents her, then- seemingly pleased, his ears fall back to the relaxed nature they had originally been at.

"He's beautiful," Zerena murmurs, gently patting his neck. Tristan almost wanted to laugh.

Of course she would greet the horse first.

"Careful, you may boost his ego too much." The prince jokes, gesturing for Zerena to follow as he leads them back outside, grabbing the basket of food with his free hand. He noticed she had followed his instructions and was wearing black breeches and tall brown boots suitable for riding in.

"I'd rather boost his than someone else's," The words shocked Tristan at first. He hadn't been expecting her to joke back with him so easily. He glances her way, unable to hide his grin as he stops in front of a tree stump for her to mount up first. "What's his name?"

"Tempest. I've had him since he was a foal. Trained him myself, actually," He explains while positioning the stallion so the stirrups would align perfectly with the stump. There was no sense in making it even harder for Zerena to get on.

"Really? I thought Leo normally trained the horses?" Her tone wasn't suspicious, merely curious.

Still, the surprised question stung for reasons he couldn't put his finger on. Maybe because she was surprised that he, the Prince, would actually put in the hard work that went into breaking and training horses? He couldn't blame her, she had every right to believe that way after the things she must have been through. Now was the chance to prove her wrong, to make her see that not all nobility was bad. That he would change the way things were run in the Kingdom. Starting with that stupid Farmhouse.

"That was before Leo started working for us." He clears his throat and tossed the reins over Tempest's neck, before moving to stand to the left side of the horse. He sees that Zerena is about to step aside, as if afraid she may be invading his personal space, but he shakes his head at her. "You better mount up."

"Me?"

"Is there someone else around that I don't see?"

Zerena clucks at him in response and looks towards where the small saddle sits on Tempest's back.

"What about you? Are you walking?"

"Gods no," He gestures again to the saddle, "I'll be sitting behind you."

Thanks to the moonlight and the glow of the lit torches in the stables, Tristan could see Zerena's face turn an amusing shade of scarlet at his words. His lips threaten to twitch upwards, but he forces himself to keep a neutral expression. She already seemed so hesitant, he didn't want to scare her off by laughing at her.

"Won't that be in-inappropriate?" She stammers, though to the Royal Prince's relief, she finally steps onto the stump. She moves her head so that her hood conceals her face, but Tristan could tell that the thought of him sitting so close behind her was unsettling. "Why do you want to go on a picnic with me, of all people?"

Tristan holds Tempest still as she places a foot in the stirrup and carefully swings herself onto the stallion's back. He's silent as he contemplates her question. He gives the basket of food to her so he didn't accidentally drop it as he mounted. Thanks to muscle memory, it only took him a single fluid movement before he was atop his horse, pressed snuggly against Zerena lest he slide off Tempest's backside. Zerena was smaller than he had anticipated, so it was all too easy for him to reach around her to grab the reins.

"Who else would I go with?" He finally answers her question with one of his own. Her body tenses as his chest presses against her back, but after a moment, she relaxes into his touch. As if this wasn't the worst thing in the world, after all. "Brace yourself," he whispers in her ear before digging his heels into Tempest's side. The stallion takes off like a shot and Zerena yelps, but she quickly falls silent as he wraps his free arm around her middle, keeping her pressed securely against his body to prevent her from falling. Or so he'd like to tell himself, anyways.

And as they grew farther away from the palace, the moon casting the world into a hue of translucent blues and grays, Tristan felt himself growing lighter. He only hoped the same could be said for Zerena.