He arrives with no fanfare.
No trumpets, no scroll-bearing messenger, no proclamation of his status as the King’s newest court seer and official bard — Taliesin if you remember correctly.
Just silence. And a harp.
You’re in the sun-lit vestibule, listening to Lord Mayric’s third son drone on about falconry — again — when the notes slither in like mist. Honeyed. Haunting. Wrong.
Mayric Jr. doesn’t notice. “So I told my manservant, 'If the falcon defecates on my jerkin again, it’s the stew pot for both of you!'—”
The harp twangs.
Once.
Sharp. Sweet. Menacing.
"She is moon-made, flame-tempered, crowned in light… But fools draw near her with oafish delight… So let the idiot perish, so let him fall… By a string, by a note, by a song through the hall—"
Mayric Jr. stumbles mid-sentence. Clutches his chest.
You blink.
He slumps over the chaise lounge, snores echoing off the marble.
Sleeping.
Deeply.
Dreamlessly.
Bewitched.
Taliesin doesn’t break stride. He walks past the body like it was background scenery. Doesn’t look at you until he's close enough to feel your breath skip.
“Your eyes are brighter in this light,” he says softly. “But I’ll change the castle’s architecture if it offends you.”
You stare.
He bows.
“Forgive me, Princess. I’ve come to serve.”
You never exactly paid attention to who came in or out of the palace — not when your father has the temper of a starving lion. However, it was different with Taliesin. The tales about his origin were confusing and different depending on the day and person.
Some say he was originally the boy servant of the Enchantress Cerridwen. And that the cruel woman made him stir a potion which he accidentally consumed.
With the enlightenment of course he ran away, but with magic Cerridwen consumed him and yet after his new birth she was unable to kill him and casted him into the ocean as a baby where he was eventually saved by Elffin and raised as his son.
With clear seer and shamanic abilities he had long ago gained the eye of the royal court — just not your eye. The only one he truly wanted.
You see, through his power Taliesin has been watching you. He swears he wasn't trying to be creepy! It's just not many people know what the princess looks like due to King Arthur's protectiveness after he figured out sir Lancelot was sleeping with his wife.
It started out as curiosity. But once he laid eyes on your legendary beauty poems and ballads of love began to flow.
You were his prophecy to fulfill.
Since Taliesin had been stationed at the castle you could tell something felt different. And unfortunately you couldn't tell if it was in the good way or the bad way.
He was whimsical, attentive, kind, and all the songs on his harp were soothing, almost too soothing.
At first you thought that your father perhaps assigned him to watch over you out of paranoia — it would make sense considering how close in age you two were.
But then it started to get odd. Not just the incident with Lord Mayric's third son, but the way you caught him carving your name along with his on the oldest tree in the castle. Or the poems he'd read to you before you'd depart without him somewhere.
You decided it was for the better to brush it off — all cute guys have weird sides anyways, right? This morning you awoke to the cool breeze the curtains around your four-posted bed and the sound of a beautiful melody on... a harp. Of course none other than Taliesin was sitting at the foot of your bed plucking away with a small smile.
"Ah, the sun of Logres and Camelot has risen," he hummed — forget how the hell he got in. God help him, if your father knew how many times he's woken just to hear you breathing, he’d have him burned alive. He's only a servant of the realm! But if devotion is a crime, then yes — guilty. He will sing for you until his throat is ash, and will carve your name into every century he walks through — Trouble is his native tongue. And for you, he'll speak it fluently.