It was almost funny how things turned out, was it not? The prince Roland could not believe his luck, and misfortune. He had a gypsy in his room, probably in his bed, but then again, he had a GYPSY...in his ROOM…in his BED. It was not that he did not think her beautiful, oh, he did, he did so very much, but he was never one to take advantage of a woman. So throughout the entire night he would not help but have his mind on the beautiful young maiden in his room. When it was time to go back he went to his room. He was taking off his cloak as he went inside, only to find the girl on his floor. Roland’s eyes went as large as saucers and he slowly, carefully picked her up and put her on his bed, just looking at her for the time being. Then, he knelt against the bed and bowed his head over folded hands. He prayed for guidance against this all, he prayed for strength in mind as well as body. Because lord knows he would need it.

The gypsy stirred and her eyes fluttered open. Then she jumped when her gaze rested upon the prince and she scrambled up against the backboard, looking at him wide-eyed. She couldn't believe she had fainted; it must have been everything that happened that had overwhelmed her system. She continued to stare at the prince. Somehow her veil had remained in place throughout all this, but she raised a hand to her chest, gently feeling how fast her heart was beating, and gulped. She fought the tears trying to rise to her eyes and did her best to remain defiant. When she spoke, she tried to keep her tone cold, but a couple times her veneer cracked and it rose in fear. Yet she always brought it back down under control. "I am not your slave sir. Just because we are gypsy's does not give you the right to abduct us whenever we please."

"...Do not allow myself to fall into temptation…" He stopped and looked up. He had been praying, praying hard. He had needed it; oh lord how he had needed it. He knew that it was not a good idea to have her in his room – his room. But he could not help it. He did not want her to be alone in the castle – mostly because of his guards. Some of them he could trust with his life, others...he did not know very well. "I am perfectly aware of that," he said, his voice strong. "You are a capable, beautiful woman, but you are also a woman, and we, the males, do not think that women can fend for themselves most of the time. I am sorry that you have been taken here, but...I do not mean to sound cruel, but you do belong to me now. Not as a slave-no, not as a slave. As a friend. A guest."

She turned her head away from and looked down at the bed. "To belong to a man is not to be a friend or a guest, it is to be a slave or a servant," she said cruelly. "Gypsy woman became Gypsy's long ago so that we could be independent, for the very reason that we did not agree with men that we could not be independent.” She couldn't look at him, for while she had her voice under control, her eyes were swimming with fear, and she knew it. She couldn't let him see that. "If I wasn't a slave or servant, just a guest or friend, I'd be allowed to go free as I chose, to return to my caravan." She fingered the golden teardrop at her throat, thinking how symbolic it was.

He stood then. He was so much taller then her: so much larger then her. He was built well, purely muscle, and at least six foot six. His hair looked shiny and seemed to be like a halo on top of his head as he looked down at her in the thin light. Roland had more then once struck terror into the hearts of women, but also, need and desire. "I am afraid, miss, that I can not do that." His voice was sincere. "As much as you and I dislike it you were given to me. And I am afraid that it would just be rude of me to let you go." Plus, you are much, much too beautiful to be on your own. "So, I am sorry, but you will be staying with me. Are you hungry?" He spoke of it as if one spoke of the weather, his blue eyes piercing into hers like two daggers.

Her gaze had turned to him when he rose and she shook slightly. She was scared of him in that moment, more scared than she had ever been in her entire life, and suddenly, her gypsy shell that had been eighteen years in the making collapsed and she began to cry. She tucked her knees to her chest and buried her head in the soft velvet cloth on her knees and cried, her whole body shaking with her silent tears. Her bare feet peeked out from under the edge of her dress, showing the golden bracelet they had put on it. She continued to cry. The worst of it all was that she knew if she had met the prince in any other situation, she would be doe-eyed with love.

Why did her tears turn his heart into mush? He did not know, but he did not like it, no, not at all. Looking at her with wide eyes he sat next to her. He knew that his presence was actually frightening, but was it really that frightening? "Oh, do not cry." He whispered. His voice was soft, gentle. He cleared her throat, and for a moment, did not know what to do. She was beautiful and Roland did not want to see her beautiful eyes filled up with tears. Wrapping his arms around her he pulled her to his chest, "Oh, do not cry, little Gypsy." He whispered, his voice almost a beg. "Please, do not."

Softly, and against her will, her sobs subsided as she felt his arms wrapped around her body, pulling her close into comforting warmth. His quiet whispered words curled through her mind, playing with her thoughts as the touch of him against her played havoc with her emotions. His arms around her made her feel protected and safe, and even as she thought that, she knew it was absurd. He was her captor after all; her owner, and he didn't care about her. He certainly wouldn't be her protector, as she recalled the jokes of the guards from previously. She was just glad they obviously feared and respected him, or she knew they would have taken her themselves. How could a man she was supposed to hate be so gentle? All these thoughts swam through her mind as she quieted and just rested peacefully against his chest, finding a center of peace in the middle of this stormy day.

As he whispered soft words into her ear he could not help but skim those exact lips forming the words over that soft cartilage forming the upper arch of her ear. He knew that he should not touch her but he had to. He was only a man. Only human. "Shh, see, it is alright now. I will not hurt you, little Gypsy. I will protect you from the evils of the world." His words were soft, but still, so very true. His thumb stroked her shoulder, which was bare, and smiled slightly, "You have naught to fear." His words were a promise. Soft and gentle spoken. "What is your name?" It was a soft request.

She shivered slightly at his touch, both that of his lips on her ear and also that of his hand gently stroking her bare shoulder. She sighed as she listened to his words. She couldn't do this, fall in love with the man she was suppose to hate. It wasn't right, how could she be letting this happen? But as she let his soft words weave their way into her consciousness she knew the impossible was happening and there was nothing she could do to stop it. His words were like water, crumbling her resolve like it was merely made of dirt and his words were washing it away. "M...My name is Istara," she answered his tender request quietly. She did not dare to ask that he give her his name. Even if she was letting herself fall in love with him, much against her own will, she still remembered what her place in this situation was.

His lips on her ear he nodded, "Istara." He said her name as one would say silk, or I love you. The mere sound of his voice was soothing and wonderful. "Hmm, I am Roland. Do not call me Your Highness, or Prince, or King. No, I am merely Roland to you. And, if it is not too bold of me, I would like permission to call you just Istara." He smiled as he tasted her name on his lips. The sun would be up soon and he knew that this young maiden should have her rest, lest she have dark circles under her beautiful eyes. "Are you tired?"

The sound of his voice continued to weave its spell, creating a net, a web, a trap she could not escape. But as his voice continued to speak her resolve to escape began to weaken until she no longer really cared that she was falling in love with this handsome prince who was managing to capture her heart and spirit – he who already owned her body. She then promptly yawned. "Yes I am a little tired Roland," she whispered, not having any trouble obeying his wishes. Roland, that was a name worthy of a king, and a name worthy of one so handsome as he.

Roland then slowly nodded as he continued to stroke her arm for a moment and then, pulled away, taking his warmth with him. "Alright then." He said softly, "Then, you sleep in the bed, and I will make a bed on the floor. I do not....do not want you leaving tonight. What I mean is that...well....I do not trust all the guards and I would feel so very much better if you stayed in here tonight." His green eyes were compelling. "So, you sleep in the bed and I shall sleep on the floor, or on a chair."

Her cheeks colored as she realized what he was inferring. Not only that he didn't trust the guards to preserve her for him, but also that he wasn't going to make an advance on her either...at least not tonight. She frowned slightly, a strange feeling sweeping through her, a longing, after the loss of his warmth. She looked at him, as if pondering a decision, then nodded to herself. "Roland, please, I do not wish to keep you from your bed and I ..." no, she thought to herself. Do not admit to him that you do not mind his touch as much as you thought. She sighed and spoke again. "But I do not mind if you share the bed with me," she concluded.

He stared at her for a long moment. And, for that long moment, he did not say anything, did not breathe, did not think. He cleared his throat and nodded, "Alright then." He said softly, "You might want to change into something different." He looked around and then went into his wardrobe and took out a long, deep green shirt, "Here, change behind the curtain. "The bed is warm, for it gets cold in here at night." He said softly and pointed to the curtain. "If you insist, I shall share the bed with you, but I promise I will not do anything you do not wish for me to do." Even if it kills me.

Istara blinked, slightly surprised at this promise and then smiled sadly. Such words only made her love the prince more, which her mind screamed at her she should not do. She quietly got up and reluctantly changed into the green shirt. She came out from behind the curtain, she gypsy attire folded over her arm and the shirt falling loosely around her, her golden curls cascading free around her face. It would be the first time he would see them without the veil. She crawled up into one side of the comfortable bed and then beckoned him to join her. "I trust you to keep your word," she said simply, even as she wondered if she could go the whole night resisting the urge to feel his arms enveloping her again.

I have to remember my honor. I cannot be a love-crazed man. He thought to himself as he took off his cloak and then his shirt. His torso was muscular and tanned, from days of swordplay. She is a virgin, Roland. She is not experienced with the art of lovemaking. Taking in a deep breath he brushed his hair from his face as he settled down on the bed next to her. The fire was softly crackling sounds in the background and gave off a romantic glow. Pulling a thick blanket up he wrapped around it her and settled back on the other side of the bed. He was not touching her at all. He did not want her to be like a doe and skip off at the slightest movement or contact.

Istara's eyes studied his bare chest, cursing herself for being attracted to this man, cursing her body for aching for his touch. She wanted his arms around her again. She even debated crying again just to get him to comfort her. Now that she thought of it, that wasn't such a bad idea. But instead she carefully shifted so that she was closer to him with every subtle wiggle. He was so far away. She knew he wanted to keep his promise but…she wanted his arms around her damn it.

He had been starring up at the ceiling when he had felt the bed move and he was beside her again. He wanted to touch her, oh, how he wanted to. He took in a deep breath, his fingers tingling with the desire to touch her. He cleared his throat, "It...um, it can be really cold in here you know, Istara." His voice was gentle. "It would be better if we slept next to each other. To share body heat, you know?" The request was innocent enough. But truly, he longed only for an excuse to touch her, no matter what the reason. Without waiting for a response, he acted. Scooting over he wrapped his arms around her waist, sighing happily.

She sighed happily too, but very quietly, hoping he wouldn't hear it. "Yes Roland, I did notice it was getting very chilly." Such a noble name for such a noble prince. She inched slightly closer, wrapping her arms in front of her as she curled her head to rest on his shoulder and her legs brushed against his. "Thank you for showing such concern, though the cold is probably nothing to a strong prince like you."

Roland smiled. "Hmm, I do not get cold very easily, that is true," he said as he stroked her arm with his thumb, the same soft movement he had done last time, "But there has been many men, stronger then I, who can not withstand the cold weather." He chuckled softly as a strong wind came, and he pulled her closer. He could feel her legs brush against his and he clenched his teeth and counted to twenty. "Sleep now, Little Moon. I shall see you in the morn to come." His words were soft into her ear as he pulled her closer, his lips on her temple as he closed his eyes, his breathing deep.

Wrapped in the warmth of his arms and letting his words worm their way through her mind, it wasn't hard for Istara, after the events of the day, to drift off to sleep, especially with the gentleness of his touch on her arm. She snuggled closer, her whole body curled against his as she closed her eyes and faded into sleep. The last words to escape her mouth faded off as she fell into slumber "Little Moon, that's a pretty name. If I am little moon than you are my shining sun for keeping me so warm...."

Roland smiled as he looked down at her, and then, drifted off into a light sleep. His sleep was peaceful, warm, and happy. The best sleep that he had gotten in days to come.