Escape: A Royal Tom Holland Romance

Beth

Tom squinted his eyes as they met with a soft glow in the almost complete darkness. He gently led his horse to the source, which turned out to be a quaint cottage in a small clearing at the edge of the wood. It was a modest home with plain crème colored walls topped with a thatched roof and only two windows on the front of the house, one on each side of the wooden door. There was a small stable nearby including a fenced in pen with a couple of horses and cows, a chicken coop, and a goat or two. The animals were still and quiet with only a few chickens scratching about. Between the cottage and the stable was a stone water well with a couple of wooden buckets sat at the base, and not far beyond it was a small collection of apple trees that seemed to watch over the entire place like three gentle soldiers.

Deciding he'd have a look around, Tom quickly removed the royal crest from his horse, tossing it into the brush. He wasn't dressed like a prince, he didn't feel like being a prince, so he wouldn't be a prince. Considering what a mess he was, he was sure he didn't look like a prince either. He quietly approached the door to the place, peering inside the windows. Through the lace curtains, he caught a small glimpse of someone, so he timidly knocked before he thought better of it.

After a short pause, the door creaked open. Tom was struck speechless. He expected an old farmer man or middle aged peasant woman, but he met eyes with someone much more intriguing: a young beauty, though dressed plainly. Her soft and natural features were unlike anything he had ever seen at court. He saw her mouth move but heard nothing, still taking in her features. She laughed gently, causing him to come to his senses.

"Huh?" He blinked.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh..." He blushed, still taking her in. "I was thrown from my horse, and I'm a bit lost."

"I see." She replied tartly. "You can put your horse in the stable and come inside."

"Thank you." He did just that, and hurried back into the house.

She had already prepared a damp cloth for his face. She sat him down, pressing the cloth on his crusted wound. She dabbed the blood away as he smiled up at her. She didn't know what to think of him yet, except that he was clearly harmless and maybe a bit off. "What's your name?"

"My name?" He gulped a bit.

"Yes, your name." She smiled at him quizzically.

A name? What's a good peasant name? He thought frantically about it for a moment before saying the first name to come to mind. "Oh...Peter." He thought it up quickly, but he thought it suited him.

"I'm Beth. You're not from here are you?"

"Oh no no no, I am, just not this neck of the woods. I live in...town..." He grinned sheepishly, not sure how well this was going.

"Do you need a place to stay for the night? There's no way you'll get to town with it this dark."

"Uh—I'm not a burden?"

"Not unless you mean harm, which I doubt so far. You seem shaken, are you alright?" She put her hand on his shoulder to comfort him and was almost startled by the chill of his drenched clothing.

"Not really, but I won't bore you with it."

"Alright then, let's get you some dry clothes."

She led him to a small trunk in the next room, tentatively selecting a drawer close to the bottom. She pulled out some worn out brown trousers and a large off-white peasant shirt. His heart jumped a bit, wondering exactly who he was borrowing clothes from.
She held them up to him, smirking a bit.

"Yup, you and my brother are pretty close. You're just a little shorter. They'll still do." She tossed the garments to him, his ego slightly wounded at being called short. He still couldn't help but feel glad they were merely her brother's.