\u201cThe realm grows darker by the day, my lady,\u201d he offered, almost apologetic. \u201cWe must ensure you are kept safe.\u201d
\u201cFrom whom?\u201d she asked, with a cautious wonder. She was na\u00efve, not yet understanding the nature of the pall that had fallen over her kingdom.
\u201cFrom the men who will seek your throne,\u201d he answered. \u201cIn times like these, men will show their true natures. In the light, their tricks are plain, and easily brushed aside, but in darkness\u2026\u201d He paused, contemplating the thought. \u201cIn darkness, all hands hold swords.\u201d
\u201cCan we keep the men away?\u201d she asked, equal parts anxious and curious.
\u201cWe can do our best,\u201d he replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He saw her the next day.
\u201cIt is cold,\u201d she complained.
\u201cIt will get colder,\u201d he said, pity on his lips. \u201cThe land is dying.\u201d
\u201cWill it get better?\u201d she asked.
\u201cIn time,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He came back a few days later, and she asked to see outside; see the land as it had become.
\u201cThe people need you safe,\u201d was his response. \u201cYour hiding place must be kept a secret. The risk of you being noticed while out is far too great.\u201d
\u201cThe people need to see their princess,\u201d she would counter, knowing that it was a simple excuse at best. \u201cThey would be comforted by my presence.\u201d
\u201cThey are comforted by your safety, your Grace. They know your rule is strong as it comes through me – there is no doubt that you are there for them. It is important that when these challenging times are through, you are still there for them.\u201d
She supposed that he was right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He came to see her a week later.
\u201cI\u2019m hungry,\u201d she complained.
\u201cMany are hungry,\u201d he responded. \u201cYour people scrape food together desperately as their fields grow barren. We must use our stores sparingly – there is no telling how long this will last.\u201d
She wrung her hands, for the sake of her people, and to take her mind off her aching stomach.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Terrible storms wracked her from her dreams, night after night. Soon, the days blurred together, skipped from noon to sunset with seemingly no pattern. Was it weeks, or years? She couldn\u2019t know. He would talk to her, try to comfort her, but always the same platitudes, the same poor reports of her kingdom in disrepair, and it began to wear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In her time alone, she would write stories in her head. Powerful people righting wrongs, stories of masks and disguises where nobody was who they seemed. Heroes and villains, dancing a dance so intricate that often they traded places and sometimes weren\u2019t dancing together at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He would tell her his own stories, of course. Stories of fact, not of fantasy, of danger and sins that men do.
\u201cWhat men?\u201d she asked one day, in desperation and exhaustion.
\u201cThere are men that seek you, my lady,\u201d he responded, carefully. \u201cWarriors that have been searching for you since this darkness began. I have done my best to hide you, but the day grows ever closer, I fear, where one will find this fortress and steal you away.\u201d
\u201cWhen?\u201d she asked, perhaps a little too quickly.
He paused. \u201cWe cannot know. Soon, perhaps.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She heard a bustle outside the door, the weathered oak she now knew so well. The fortress seemed alive in a way it never had. The door swung open in a wide arc, revealing him behind it as it had so many times before.
\u201cDo you trust me, my lady?\u201d he asked. He seemed troubled, his cloak fastened tighter than usual, his brow more furrowed, his beard hiding less of his frown.
\u201cOf course,\u201d she lied.
\u201cThen come,\u201d he said, grasping her arm.
He pulled her through the hallways at a speed with which she struggled to keep pace. They climbed a great stone staircase, the clashing sound of steel far below them growing quieter as they ascended to the ramparts. A violent gale blew their cloaks into hellish, flapping shapes and an eerie whistling filled the air as she looked down onto a large courtyard, weathered and pale by the harsh moonlight.
The gateway to the yard burst open and a yell, almost tribal, pierced the air. A gleaming, bloody sword pierced the darkness, followed quickly by a man, blond hair sodden and tangled, draped in muddy green sackcloth as tough as his demeanour.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sweat, blood and rain mixed as they ran down his face, cutting through the dirt as he looked up and locked eyes with her, eyes older than his face should hold. Through it all, he smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She smiled back.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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