Under a Dimmed Sun [UNCENSORED]

SI: Chapter VII: Among the Leaves

In the golden light of a morning sky, Peter, having concluded his training with the castle knights, sought refuge under the shade of his favorite tree—the very one where he first encountered Alice. As he reclined against its trunk, a comforting sense of familiarity washed over him.

Suddenly, a mischievous whisper, carried on the breeze, reached Peter's ears. "Peter!" The voice seemed to come from above him, and as he looked up, there was Alice, perched on a high tree branch, grinning mischievously.

His surprise painted his face, and he stammered, "What are you doing? Why are you up there? How did you...?" His questions hung in the medieval air, but Alice's grin only widened.

However, her triumphant expression took a sudden turn as she teetered on the branch. With a gasp, she fell—right into Peter's arms. "Oh no, lo siento" she apologized, her words a blend of innocence and concern.

Peter, his initial shock turning into a grin despite the impact, teased, "Your language is getting better. Who's your teacher?"

Alice, recovering from her unexpected fall, retorted playfully, "My teacher is right under me."

Their laughter echoed through the medieval glade, the tree itself seeming to join in the joy of their shared moment. Yet, as the laughter subsided, the approaching footsteps of castle knights prompted Peter to take swift action. With a quick yet gentle movement, he hid Alice behind the tree, shielding her from view.

The knights, greeted Peter before continuing on their way. Once they were out of earshot, Peter turned to Alice with a mixture of relief and admonishment. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be in the castle courtyard."

Alice's face reflected a puppy-like sadness, tugging at Peter's heart. Softening, he relented, "Okay, let's walk around the village, but you have to be careful. We can't let anybody knows."

Alice's face lit up with gratitude, and together, they strolled through the medieval grounds, the tree standing tall as the silent witness to their laughter, whispers, and the sweet moments shared under its branches.

..

As Peter and Alice wandered through the village, the air was filled with the lively sounds of market vendors and the scent of various wares. The day seemed to unfold like a gentle tapestry, the sun casting a warm glow on the cobbled streets.

Their laughter and light-hearted banter echoed through the market stalls, transforming the ordinary stroll into a dance of shared moments. The medieval village, with its hustle and bustle, provided a picturesque backdrop to what felt like an impromptu date.

However, amid the joy, Alice's gaze was drawn to a mysterious figure—a very old lady with a cloak that seemed to carry the weight of ages. Their eyes met, and in a hushed tone, the old lady spoke words that sent a chill down Alice's spine. "Poor girl, God forbid- your fate might be painful to walk through."

Peter, protective and angered by the cryptic statement, was ready to confront the old lady: "Old Lady, how dare-" Before he could voice his outrage, Alice held his arms tightly, her head bowed in a gesture of quiet acceptance. "It's alright, my lord," she whispered, her voice a gentle plea for calm.

Peter, torn between the desire to defend Alice and respecting her wish for peace, chose the latter. With a firm grip on Alice's hand, he walked away, leaving the old lady's words lingering in the medieval air. "Let's go," he said, his tone a mix of reassurance and silent determination.

As they continued their stroll through the village, the weight of the old lady's words remained like a shadow, yet the warmth of Peter's presence and the shared moments between them served as a shield against the foreboding prophecy. In the medieval dance of fate, they pressed on, hand in hand, their hearts resilient in the face of uncertainty.

...

As the medieval sun dipped below the horizon, Peter and Alice found themselves at the entrance of a lively tavern. Peter, ever the protective gentleman, draped a cloak over Alice's head, shielding her from the prying eyes of the tavern's patrons.

Once inside, the ambiance of the tavern enveloped them—the raucous laughter, the clinking of tankards, and the lively music that seemed to beckon them closer to the heart of the festivities.

"Can you drink?" Peter inquired, a playful glint in his eye.

"I'm open to new experiences, my lord," Alice replied with a teasing smile.

They found a cozy corner, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow on the medieval surroundings. Tankards were filled, and the tavern's atmosphere became the backdrop for a series of humorous exchanges between Peter and Alice.

Peter, growing increasingly jovial, leaned in with a mischievous grin. "You know, Alice, I've heard that drinking helps reveal the hidden truths."

Alice, raising an eyebrow, responded, "And what hidden truths do you think we'll uncover tonight, my lord?"

As the evening wore on, their banter flowed like the ale in their tankards, laughter mingling with the medieval melodies in the air. However, the merriment reached a tipping point when Peter, perhaps indulging a bit too much in the revelry, found himself slightly unsteady.

Alice, her eyes widening in amusement, attempted to navigate the challenge of guiding Peter through the crowded tavern. "Careful, my lord, or we might need to add dancing to our list of hidden talents."

As they reached the tavern's entrance, the medieval skies opened up, raindrops patterning on the cobblestone streets. Alice, struggling to support Peter's towering frame, wondered aloud, "How do we go home?"

Peter, with a lopsided grin, suggested, "We'll find a way, my dear Alice. Perhaps a carriage made of raindrops?" He's totally drunk.

As the rain intensified, Alice made a decisive choice. Renting a lodging above the tavern, she hoped that the brews would work their magic, and Peter would be sober by night.