Notes: I don't know what came over me.
He saunters through the shadows of the buildings of Sailloon. He knows no one else looks as good in a grey light. It's been too long since he's been able to visit.
He whistled and he sang
Till the green woods rang
All he brought with him was a bottle of purple spray paint, carefully applied to the turret opposite her window. Bored yet? one morning, and Ever secret the next, to answer the question she'd better be asking, and then Coming? And finally, Tonight--or stay.
And he won the heart of a lady
He did wish she hadn't answered in pink. It had probably been unavoidable, though.
She left her father's castle gate
She left her own fond lover
She left her servants and estate
To follow the gypsy rover
She left a note for her fiancee. It found him in the library, where he'd been for the last month and a half, barring the occasional coffee break. He stared at it, appalled, for a moment, muttered something about delusional adolescents and how he wouldn't be king if his cure came with it on a silver platter anyway, and turned back to his research, shaking his head.
Her father saddled up his fastest horse
He roamed the green hills all over
And sought his daughter at great speed
And the whistling gypsy rover
Her father took the news less well.
He only stopped bemoaning his daughter's lamentable and probably influenced choice of that wimpy, limping, shrimp of a priest when his guide (she was probably going to empty the privy purse again, but she was a family friend by now and the best bodyguard he knew of, and she certainly knew her business) stopped their horses on a beach and pointed them across the water. And that was only because seasickness beckoned.
He came at last to a mansion fine
Down by the river Claydee
The island they landed on was choked with greenery and crawling with large, furry animals who looked at them curiously and then all trotted off leisurely in the same direction. Following, they came to a elegant and somewhat imposing house (if you could call it a house) that was in the middle of at least being painted, if not renovated. A coat of deep golden sand was being applied over a really appalling crimson and cream job.
And there was music and there was wine
For the gypsy and his lady
He found the pair of them having a paintbrush fight next to a neatly (for a wonder) demolished picnic lunch, arguing about the color of the trim. His bodyguard looked critically at the nearly full bottle of Zephilian red, nodded in satisfaction, took a hearty swig of it, and joined his daughter in the war of pink versus black, on the grounds that there were enough canines loping around that the house probably shouldn't remind them of tigers and it was bad enough that his house was going to match his shirt. The priest pouted.
"OI!"
He is no gypsy, my father, she said
But lord of these lands all over
When everything had been explained to him, and his daughter had assured him several times that it was okay that her new fiance had assassinated his master because she was really, really unjust, and the priest had explained that the word 'demon' was a draconic misnomer (the word 'vampire' was a little closer, yes, but the priest couldn't help his nutritional requirements and the princess was completely safe from him, honest) and pointed out the benefits of an alliance between the city of white magic and the only mazoku faction that actually liked people--and incidentally, the benefits of an alliance between his daughter and somebody who was not only able but willing to protect her from herself--he began to think that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.
And I shall stay till my dying day
With my whistling gypsy rover
Especially after the wimpy, limping, shrimp of a priest beat him at arm-wrestling.
[End]
A/N: Yeah, I know. I deserve to be shot.