After much anguish, tests, rebuttals, always pushed away, not for his secrets, not for his potential, but just the sheer joy of seeing him come back relentlessly time after time for the girl that was personified by this thick walled edifice made of sandstone, he looked towards the main road, fearing a Fate, or hoping for a better Fate.
His banging his head against the wall had come to an end with her last trick. He had waited so long, tried clambering every wall, answered her nightingale’s song for 6 months, not eating. So finally she had just gone a bit too far, had revealed something about herself. Why, and for what after all was he clambering those walls? To be held a prisoner of a mean spirited trickster once inside? Someone that would goad every last drop of his sense away, keep him in her Golden Cage and make fun of his innocence, berate him even for having waited so long.
Finally, her Prince was coming back, and it wasn’t him, so she said. He came first, and she was asking him advice on how to get handmaidens to entertain him. He answered politely, forgiving all the half-formed traits he could perceive from what she told him about the Prince, forgiving her extraordinary confession. But something broke inside him, he could no longer care for such. As much as he had deeply fallen in love with her, had tried to be with her, she exacted so much proof beyond what was necessary, mistook so many real opportunities for more time to kneed him that really he felt nothing anymore.
He looked a last time at those walls, took his stick and his dogs, and wandered down the road.