#aktr

Further disagreements continued for what felt like hours. But a bumblebee landed on his nose without him noticing, as it alighted when he had shut his eye for longer than he intended. It was the only proof he accepted that you might be right about his fatigue.

You half-hoped that he would lay his head in your lap. But as he lay down, he laced his fingers behind his head, a thin cushion between himself and the ground. Only a moment passed before his eye drooped shut, regular breaths growing deeper and deeper. You smiled as you plucked a coneflower and placed it over his heart. The breeze blew it off his chest and into his face, where it landed next to his nose. He twitched in his sleep, mumbling. You moved to pluck the flower when it was carried away by another, stronger wind.

You pulled your knees up to your chest as you watched your knight slumber peacefully. It was strange how comfortable he felt in your company. Showing his vulnerability to you, and only you. You could not articulate what you had done to deserve loyalty from such a good man, but you were more than happy to be a safe haven for him.

No matter how hard you prayed, that was all you would be to him: his lord’s daughter. You could never be his lover.

Especially with the news that you had yet to share with him.

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Your knight found out sooner than you would have liked. Of course he did. He was at the center of it, after all. Your lord father was so impressed by his service to you and his performance at the tournament, he wanted to offer your knight an elevated position: the head of the household guard. 

Somehow, the news had spread to your other servants. They gossiped idly in your presence, unaware of how the topic caused you emotional turmoil. Another few days passed before you could offer your congratulations to the knight in privacy, on one of your clandestine outings. This time, you were perched on a rock by the river while he stood next to you.

He turned his piercing gaze to you in appraisal. Try as you might to offer him a genuine smile, he looked at you in concern.

“My lady,” he asked, his brow furrowed. “What troubles you?”

“Nothing!” you squeaked, looking away too quickly. You rolled a handful of rocks in your hand, looking for the best one to skip across the water’s surface.

He stared intensely at you while you fidgeted restlessly. You ignored him, picking out a long flat rock larger than your palm. You prickled uncomfortably under his stare, and you threw the rock in a wide arc. It splashed into the water and sank, your concentration so ruined that you could not skip it properly.

“I am sorry, sir knight,” you finally said. “I… I am afraid to tell you the extent of my selfishness. These thoughts that plague me… you will find them unforgivable.”

“Never, my lady,” he said immediately. “I only wish you would unburden yourself, especially if I am able to help.”

You smiled weakly at him, sincere this time. But you turned away to look at the waters, unable to look at him directly. “May I say first that my foremost hope is for your happiness. You ought to do whatever you like without concern for my own wishes. I understand that my father’s offer is too good to refuse… and yet… it is my selfish desire that you do not accept.

“I do not mind that you would no longer serve only me,” you were quick to add, “but your new duties would mean that… we could no longer spend as much time together, alone. Perhaps these outings would cease entirely.” You made a sweeping gesture towards the water as if you could snatch these stolen moments out of the air and pocket them for later.

“But it is not your destiny to live out the rest of your days as my knight,” you continued, and this notion pierced your heart with longing sadness. “You were meant for greater things, and I should not keep you from reaching them.” Even if he had to leave you behind entirely.

He leaned on the rock you were seated on, close enough that you could have reached out and taken his hand when he placed it next to yours. Your little finger brushed against his, gently grazing the leather of his gloves.

“I am taking that into consideration, my lady,” he said quietly. “I have grown accustomed to your constant company. I would hate to lose it.”

“Truly?”

He nodded. He looked at you sincerely, and his hand shifted closer to yours. Almost raising it as if to place it over your own.

“You would still reside in my father’s hall, sir knight,” you tried to reassure him even as your heart fluttered at his words. “We could still see each other enough.”

“But not every day,” he said. It was a statement and not a question. Currently, it was normal for the two of you to always be seen together. In his new position, you would have to seek each other out. And then spending so much time alone together in such close proximity would draw suspicious eyes to you.

“No… not every day,” you said glumly. But you perked up, determined not to influence your knight’s decision. “But you will earn more coin and prestige than you currently do, sir knight. Do not let me keep you from what you deserve.”

“Serving you and being with you is already more than I deserve,” he said softly.

“Do not make this decision lightly,” you chided him gently. “I would not have you miss out on this great opportunity.”

“I will decide for myself how great this opportunity is,” he said. But he smiled warmly at you. “It seems we share the same concerns for our futures.”

“You should not concern yourself with mine, sir knight,” you said insistently.

“I find that impossible, my lady,” he said, now smirking.

The two of you squabbled in circles like this up until the very moment you returned to town. Still, you were heartened that the knight acknowledged your worries. But should you have shared them with him at all? Perhaps you should have ordered him to say “yes”. The thought that he might turn down your father’s offer filled you with guilt, a sour, twisting knot in the pit of your stomach that grew heavier as the day went on. Battling with happiness that your knight was considering staying on in your service anyways. And all of that tumbling into more guilt at your selfishness again. A horrible maelstrom of conflicting emotions that almost made you physically ill.

It distracted you so thoroughly that your father needed to call out your name multiple times at dinner, attempting to engage you in conversation.

“Are you alright?” he asked you.

“Yes, father,” you said quickly. “What were you saying?”

He leaned forward in his seat, wringing his hands. “Your brother has sent word from abroad. He hopes to return to us before the end of the month… but we must prepare for the possibility that he may not survive the journey.”

That was enough to shake you from your reverie. Your brother had traveled to a faraway country years ago, excited to see more of the world, only to nearly drown during his voyage over stormy seas. You had been too young to accompany your mother when she visited him, left behind with your distraught father at home. Your mother eventually returned with the good news that he had survived but had refused to come home. You had not seen him since, only exchanging letters with him on occasion.

You still loved him very much. The prospect of his death frightened you. Hearing your father speak of it made your heart leap in your throat, and your grip trembled around your fork.

Your mother grabbed your other hand, attempting to comfort you as she scowled at your father. “Why would you speak of such tragedy aloud?? He is older and stronger now and will return to us safely. I will not have you wishing him ill fortune—”

“Of course I pray for his safe return,” your father interrupted, still stoic. “I would mourn his death greatly, but we must think of our future.”

He was going to say it. A notion that you had disliked ever since you were a little girl and positively dreaded now that you were a woman… now that you and your knight were—

“Child…” your father started solemnly. “If your brother should die, then you will need to marry an heir.”

“I will not!!” you cried out. “I—”

“You must,” your father said dismissively. “It is your duty as my daughter. Think of our people. If there is no one to lead them after my passing then—"

He swallowed hard, then looked away in distress. You would have unleashed vitriol at him, but it seemed a heartless thing to do, to pour salt on his wounds. After all, you both shared the fervent hope that your brother’s death would not come to pass.

“For one of my children to rule these lands in my stead… it is all I wish,” your father said somberly. “If it cannot be your brother then it must be you and your future husband.”

“I would be happy to rule and live chaste than to marry someone I do not love,” you blurted out. “Is that not good enough for our people?” “How long would you stay chaste for?” your father frowned. “What if you do not find love until it is too late for you to bear children? Then who will you name as a successor?”

“I…” this conversation was too closely approaching a truth you had kept hidden from everyone. One that you were afraid to acknowledge, even to yourself. To be forced to admit it in front of your parents— before telling your knight directly—would be the worst scenario possible. You chewed your lip and turned away.

“Is there someone you wish to marry?” your mother asked. Was it your imagination or did her eyes flick up to your knight standing behind you? What did she see?

You stabbed your dinner (roasted chicken breast, so reminiscent of what you and your knight used to feed Leo together) and sawed away at it with your knife. If you preoccupied yourself with your food then perhaps your mother would lose interest and you would not have to answer her question.

But she called out your name, even as you chewed overly large mouthfuls. Your father’s attention focused on you as well. You took your time sipping from your cup.

You could only lie or tell the truth… A lie was better, but not by much.

You set down your cup and angled it so the water almost spilled onto the table. Hoping to catch a glimpse of your knight’s reflection as he stood behind you. Damn the high-backed chair you were seated on— it was too tall for you to casually lean around to look at your knight. If only he were standing on the other side of the room, behind your parents where you could see each other.

If only he knew that you were about to lie not just for your sake, but his as well.

“…no,” you mumbled.

“Then we shall endeavor to find a good husband for you,” your father leaned back in his seat. He let out a sigh, as if he were relieved that you would not further complicate his planning. “What about that warrior from the tournament? I believe his name was Flynn? Or was it Finn?”

“He is not a warrior, and certainly not good enough for our daughter!!” your mother snapped. “He is a turkey of a boy—”

Your parents devolved into debating about who you ought to pair up with. There was no use trying to speak up. They had seemingly already settled the matter without you.

As much as you loved them and they loved you, in this moment you hated them.

But not as much as you hated yourself.

“Excuse me,” you choked out by way of announcing your departure. Your mother and father were too busy arguing to notice.

You walked away as quickly as you could, hugging yourself tightly. Attempting to hold yourself together. But you could not calm your shallow breaths. Tears sprung unbidden to your eyes.

The footsteps of your knight followed. Was he following you out of loyalty? Or was he hurt by your lie? What did he think when he heard what you said to your parents? Did he feel anything at all?

Finally, you arrived at the staircase leading to your chambers. You took a deep breath and wiped your eyes, hoping to hide how upset you were before turning to your knight.

“Sir knight…” you started in a low voice, conscious of how someone could walk in on the two of you at any moment. Faltering when you noticed how stiffly he carried himself, how his grip choked the hilt of his sword. But you swallowed and tried again. Forging on even as your own throat refused to cooperate. It was important to address everything he witnessed tonight.

“I understand… my lady,” he said heavily; you would not have thought it possible but your heart sank even lower. “You have a duty to perform, just as I have mine. It was a mistake to believe our futures could be entwined beyond that.”

“Do not be so eager to believe that this is the end of our future,” you whispered energetically. “My brother may yet return to us safely.”

“If he does, will your father still wish to choose a husband for you?”

You shook your head. “No. He has always been rather liberal in the care of his family. Not many ealdorman would allow their sons or wives to travel freely… or allow their daughters to marry whomever they please.”

“And who would it please you to become your future husband?” the knight asked, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. Looking down at you with a curious smile.

You blushed and cleared your throat, stalling. Of the interrogations you were subjected to tonight, this one was less unpleasant. But it still discomforted you greatly. “Someone below my own station… I prefer to pay no mind to such matters, but my father feels differently. He would only accept such a union if my brother survives long enough to rule in his place.”

“What will you do if your brother does not live?” your knight asked quietly.

“I… I do not know,” you admitted.

“Perhaps his death will not come to pass,” he said. “In the meantime, I shall offer my prayers for his safety… and for your happiness.”

“Thank you,” you said, wiping your eyes. You sighed as exhaustion took hold of you, forcing you to lean against your bedroom door for support. “Rest well, sir knight.”

“Rest well, my lady,” he said. He bowed his head to you before turning away.

Your thoughts followed him as his footsteps trailed off. His question made you restless for many nights, keeping you from sleeping peacefully. You labored over an answer in your waking hours as well, half-distracted when engaging with anyone other than your knight.

Nothing in your upbringing could have prepared you for this. To choose between your own happiness and the duty being forced upon you. Before you met your knight, you could tolerate the prospect of marrying someone you did not love. It seemed abstract enough that you could ignore it most of the time.

Now, though… at your current age, there was only one romantic prospect who could make you happy. And he was within arm’s reach, sitting next to you in your meadow. To be torn from him would be too painful to bear. Especially when you were moderately certain that he felt the same way.

He no longer stood over you on these trips to the forest, but sat next to you whenever he could, his knee close enough to almost touch yours. The brilliant teal of his eye mirroring the clear skies of the summer. More often than not, he was weary to the point of needing to nap during most of your outings. You always had to ask him to rest, as he never acknowledged how tired he was. He would always insist that he did not need to be sent home. But if he was ill or attending to some mysterious errand that cut into his sleep, he never divulged the truth no matter how much you fussed over him. When you asked if you both should attend prayers at church for once, he insisted that visiting the woods was more enjoyable.

Today, he seemed energetic enough, examining the blooms in the meadow, searching for purple coneflowers. When he found one in good condition, he would reach out and pluck it. Holding it delicately and passing it to you in a singular elegant, graceful movement. Helping you accumulate enough flowers for you to knot them together in a long chain.

“Have you come to a decision regarding my father’s offer?” you asked, holding up your handiwork. It was not yet long enough for your liking; it would need only a few more flowers before it reached the desired length.

He nodded. “It is contingent on your brother’s return.”

“How so?” You looked sideways at him. The sunlight gently illuminated his profile, dappled in warm gold and honey.

The coneflower he held between his thumb and pointer finger was an especially large one, almost the size of a coin. He studied it carefully, looking down his long nose in silent inspection. It seemed to pass muster, and he reached out to hand it to you. If he decided to tuck it behind your ear you would not have minded. You would have even enjoyed his touch. It was hard not to be disappointed when he dropped the flower into your outstretched palm instead. But you knotted it onto your string without complaint.

“If your brother arrives safely, then I will accept the position,” he said slowly. “If he does not, then I will stay on as your knight.”

“Why…?” you asked. He had told you many questionable things before, but this one piqued your curiosity the most.

“If your future husband is of questionable character then I must remain by your side to protect you,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Sir knight… thank you,” you said softly, touched by his thoughtfulness. “But I have already told you not to sacrifice your future on my behalf. I will not ask you to share my pain.”

“It would be painful enough to see you wedded to another no matter how far apart we are,” he said, voice low. His tone was steady, but a twitch in his jaw betrayed him. Still concealing the true depths of his upset. “I could never be without you.”

A thrill fluttered in your chest, a coal of excitement warming you. “Nor I you.”

He gave you a sad smile as he handed you another flower. It was the last one you needed. You added it to your string and knotted the ends together so it became a loop long enough to wear as a necklace. When you held it up to examine it, it made a lovely frame for your knight, long green stems interrupted by warm purple blooms, contrasting with the bright orange seeded hearts.

“No,” you said abruptly, dropping the flowers into your lap. You grabbed your knight’s gloved hand in both of yours, the leather warm and rough in your grasp. “You once wished to help me find strength, enough to defy my fate. I would ask that of you now.”

His eye widened and mouth fell open, face elongated in surprise. But he did not pull away from you as you trembled in fear, suddenly afraid that the knight would say no to your incoming request.

“Run away with me,” you said. “I will not wish to stay here if my brother dies. We could leave this life behind.”

His eye darted between your face and his hand held in yours. A bright gleam in the teal pool of his eye as he leaned in, “My lady… do not ask this of me. It would be a difficult life on the road. I would not have you suffer it.”

“But you would let me suffer as another man’s wife?” you asked. “That would be too cruel a destiny to endure.”

“What of your parents?” “What of them?” you asked defiantly.

“Would you have them suffer the loss of both their children?”

“I have served them well enough all my life. This duty they ask of me is the only burden I cannot bear.”

“You would have no coin or servants at your disposal,” he warned.

“I would rather live poor and free than imprisoned with all the comforts of the world,” you said. “And I could survive it all if you were with me, sir knight.”

You let go of his hand to grab your loop of flowers. You twisted it into a figure eight, looping one hole around your wrist. A tremble lingered in your hand as you held up the other half of the bracelet. It was meant for your knight if he would accept it.

“Do you truly wish to live this way?” your knight asked.

“I do,” you said simply. Raising the flowers higher.

He stared at you for a long time, watching, waiting for you to falter. When you did not, he threaded his own hand through the flower loop and gently clasped your hand. 

“I could imagine no greater happiness than joining you,” he said softly.

He lowered your hand to kiss it. Heat bloomed under his mouth where he touched you, a flicker of flame igniting at the contact. His breath soft as a wingbeat, a warm breeze gliding over your skin. Lips molding into the shape of your knuckles.

Your cheeks burned hotly, but you could not pull away. You did not want to. If your knight let go you would have taken his hand again. But he seemed to feel the same, turning your hand over to kiss the seam where your palm met your wrist. Pulling you close as if he meant to fill the scar on his lip with you.

“Sir knight…” you said, and he finally looked up at you, quiet adoration in his eyes. “Whatever fates should unfold, I hope to endure them together… with you.”

He nodded. There was no need for him to speak. His intentions were the same as yours. It was clear in how reluctant he was to let go of you when it was time to depart, how you had to be the one to gently pull your hand out of his grip. The flower chain fell off, and he pulled off his glove before wrapping it around his own wrist. Pulling his glove slowly over his new bracelet, careful not to dislodge any petals. Accepting your claim on him but concealing it from the rest of the world. A sign of your bond known only to the two of you. 

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The thrill of your knight’s promise did not wane when you returned home. Even as your anxieties rose for your brother’s safety during evening prayers, it was heartening enough that you were bound to your knight regardless of your brother’s fate. Despite yourself, you could not help but wonder how to prepare for your potential escape. After all, your parents were looking for your potential suitors even as your brother still lived. It was a race against time.

There were many questions you had to consider for the planning. You meant to bring them up with your knight at your next outing, but he did not join you for breakfast. His absences were few and far in between, only brought upon by illnesses so severe that even his stubbornness could not bear him through. But in his years of service, this was the first time he had failed to notify you. None of your other attendants knew of his location or his health, leaving you to worry endlessly. It had you afraid to leave your father’s hall as if you might receive news of your knight’s whereabouts, if only you waited long enough.

The waiting was not long before a commotion interrupted your meal. One of your father’s scouts burst into the room, stalking straight to your father’s seat. He made to scold the man for his interruption but stopped himself when the scout leaned in to whisper. Whatever news was shared had your father smiling and sighing in relief.

He clasped your mother’s hand as he turned to her. “Our son lives. He is at this very moment arriving at the shore—”

Impatience had you leaping out of your seat, leaving your parents and unfinished food behind. It was good news to be sure, but one you wanted to confirm with your own eyes. You ran to the stables and took the fastest horse. Galloping away even as your servants called out after you.

You rode and rode and rode, driving the horse to its limits. Trees blurred past you, branches catching on your dress. Soon, you stopped at the top of a tall hill that gave you a high vantage of the woods.

The main path leading to your father’s estate was occupied by a fairly large retinue of men. Despite the years you had spent apart, your brother was easily recognizable. A little taller and now sporting a beard, but he was the same beloved sibling you had grown up with nonetheless.

And who should be riding beside him?

It was none other than your knight.

More enthusiastic than ever, you urged your horse downhill. It trotted slower than you would have liked, but the descent was steep and forced you to exercise caution. Your brother rode ahead in the procession to meet you as you arrived on the road.

“Sister!” your brother called out as his horse and yours lined up side-by-side. He grinned brightly at you. “It’s good to see you.”

“I missed you,” you said joyfully. And you sincerely did, to an even greater extent that you did not realize until seeing him again. You would have hugged him if you could.

“You look well! Have you grown smaller?” he teased.

“You grew a beard,” you chuckled. “If I had known then I would have been less afraid of you drowning. It seems large enough to help keep you afloat.”

“The winters abroad are much colder than the ones at home. If you had to endure them, you would want a beard as well,” he laughed. “How are our parents?”

“They are well. We were eating breakfast when we heard you arrived,” you said. “I imagine they are preparing for your return at this very moment.”

“Did you come out here because you wanted to see me?” he said. “Your knight did the same.”

“Oh?” you turned around, looking for him. He was riding several paces behind you, nodding in greeting. Still too far away to join your conversation.

“He said he awaited my arrival at the shore every morning before attending to you,” your brother said. “He hoped to escort me home personally as a gesture of welcome.”

“He did?” that would explain why your knight had been so tired lately. Perhaps he even wished to deliver the good news to you himself. You turned behind you to call out to him, “Thank you!”

Your knight nodded and smiled, a small one that tilted the line of his mouth upwards ever so slightly. Were it not for the distance you would have thanked him more profusely, but you turned to your brother again, conversing about everything that had occurred in his time away. Once you arrived home, your brother whisked you away to greet your parents together.

There was much to be done in the improvised celebrations of your brother’s return. Admittedly, much of the work would be carried out by your servants, but your mother made you clean out your brother’s room, which you had been using to store books and trinkets that would not fit in your own. Then he enlisted your help in unpacking his possessions, among which were many fascinating gifts he bestowed upon you and your parents. These and the tales he regaled you with would normally have been very enthralling, but your thoughts kept straying towards something much closer to home.

No matter how hard you tried to focus on the family reunion, you kept thinking of your knight. The joy of averting a separation from him enhanced your happiness at your brother’s return. But he was nowhere to be found when you finally had a free moment. Word had spread that he had accepted your father’s offer and was to be sworn into his new position. However, there was the unfortunate fact that he had still abandoned his post as your knight this morning, even if only for a few hours. Despite your protests, his actions still warranted a punishment, albeit a mild one: for the feast tonight, he was to be stationed outside your father’s hall, outdoors in the cold. 

Although you had not finished your breakfast earlier, you still had no appetite for the dinner feast. All dining and entertainment were less engaging than your knight’s company. But you could not find a polite time to excuse yourself, not until much later when your brother himself had enough of the festivities. When you departed the dinner table, you did not head straight to your room. Instead, you wandered out.

Your knight was once again nowhere to be found.

Still, you walked back inside with a spring in your step. There was always tomorrow.

The halls were still bustling with servants clearing away the remnants of the celebrations, but the noises faded behind you as you climbed up the stairs to your bedchambers.

Standing outside your door was your knight. Waiting for you.

“Silco—!”

He swept you up in his arms, kissing you. His lips molded soft and gentle against yours as his arms wound around your waist, pulling you tight against him. You kissed him in turn, feeling the notch of his scar against your own mouth. The chill of the evening air still clung to his chainmail sleeves, but you were so warm. Excited and thrilled at him finally touching you. Satisfying your yearning for him as he crushed you against him, as if he meant to rid everything standing between you, even the very air itself.

Your own arms wound around his neck. His eagerness at your reciprocation made him sloppy, growing more insistent as he flicked his tongue against your lips. Prompting you to open your mouth wider so he could taste more of you. Each pass of his tongue inside your mouth thrilled you, molten heat and passion gliding down your throat to pool deep in your core. When you moaned, the shape of his kisses changed as he grinned, the carved shape of it still pressing against you. He pulled away, staring deep into your eyes as his own was half-lidded, hazy.

As much as you would have enjoyed spending the night standing there in his arms, you needed to move. You grabbed his elbow and pulled at him, striding to your door and slamming it shut behind the both of you. Then you turned and hugged him, kissing him again. He was soft again, slow, breathing you in deep as he held his lips against yours for long, ponderous moments, savoring the feel of you against him.

“My lady…” he said in a low voice, beholding you with his good eye. His gaze was reverential, his hand holding your cheek as you nuzzled into it. So careful with you as if you were a bubble that might burst.

“Silco…” you whispered, saying his name only for the second time since he was sworn into your service. There had been countless times you wished to speak it out loud but could not find the courage to do so. It felt less strange in your mouth as you said it now.

He closed his eye as he resumed kissing you, shallow breaths puffing against your face. “I have craved you for so long…”

“Then sh-show me,” you stuttered as he planted kisses on your lips, your cheek, your eyes, your forehead. Your own kisses landed clumsily on his chin and neck as you fumbled with his belt, attempting to pull it off. Silco was just as eager but more careful as he helped you out of your dress and underclothes. They slid off your skin smoothly as he carried you to your bed, naked as the day you were born.

After he set you down, he pulled off his clothes until he wore only his trousers. You spread your legs for him instinctively as he climbed onto the bed, caging you in with his arms as he hovered over you. But he made no further advances as his eye traced up and down your body, enjoying your nakedness underneath him. You blushed even as you reached out for his eyepatch.

He intercepted your hand as it touched the edge of his accessory, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss once again. You bit your lip, shyly nervous but determined as you said, “Silco… I wish for you to see all of me. I want you to see that I am entirely yours, in heart, soul, and body.”

Silco looked up from your hand, staring into your eyes again. You held his gaze, unwavering in your resolve. Then he let you go, slowly lifting his eyepatch off, disturbing his hair from its careful styling. He tossed it to the ground and leaned in to kiss you again. Crushing your breasts against his bare chest, the heat of his rough skin amplifying the fire already thrumming through your veins. You whimpered as he ground his hardened cock against your core, still able to feel the thick shape of it even through his clothing.

“Do you— will you do the same for me?” you asked breathlessly. Suddenly insecure that he did not want you as you wanted him, since he had not fully stripped yet.

“Do not mistake my slowness for reluctance, my lady,” he said roughly, still kissing you. “A thousand times I imagined this moment… and yet there are no words for the depths of my desire to ruin you.” He whispered that word into your ear, emphasizing it with another grind of his pelvis against you, rubbing against your bud. You whimpered as it set off a delicious spark in your core, your cunt clenching around nothing. “I must exercise restraint, or else I fear I may hurt you.”

He planted kisses down your neck, mapping his way down your chest, as if he hoped to memorize the feel of your body under his lips. When he reached your breasts, he kissed between them, sucking to leave his mark on you. Arousal stirred inside you, swirling like smoke disturbed by wind. He moved to your nipple, teasing the shape of it, curling his tongue around it. Then leaning in to suck, still flicking it heavily with his tongue. You shuddered as he cupped your other breast with one hand, propping himself up with his other arm. Gently holding it, familiarizing himself with how it rested in his palm. Then he squeezed, rolling his fingers into your flesh. Heat and excitement curling in your core, settling between your legs as your breathing grew shallow.

You rocked your hips into him, needy for more. He looked up at you as he obliged, his eyes a piercing gaze of lust, most likely mirroring your own. His hand trailed downwards, following the rise of your ribcage and fingertips dragging down your waist. Then he cupped your sex, thumb pressing lightly against your bud. The touch shot lightning through you, zipping up your spine and lighting up every nerve along the way. He rubbed it slowly, as if pushing on curling petals to help them bloom. Your breathing grew shallow and erratic, the combined attentions of his mouth and hand winding a tightness deep in your belly.

It startled you when he traced the shape of your entrance, gathering your already dripping slick on his finger. Sliding between the lips of your sex before pushing his finger inside you. Curling it against your walls, sending sparks rising, rising, rising ever higher. Your cunt clenching around him as he added another finger, reaching so deep inside you. 

The band in your core snapped, tension bursting as you came. He kept rubbing, adding a third finger in his relentless movements inside you. Having you come undone and cresting waves of pleasure, long and low as you slapped your own hands over your mouth to muffle your cries. Your walls fluttered around his fingers as he finally slowed. When he pulled them out, they were covered in your slick, slightly pruned from the wetness inside you.

Your heart hammered as he leaned in, lightly kissing your cheek to let you catch your breath. You turned to him, your nose grazing his.

“Silco…” you said softly. You raised a hand to touch him, brushing the shape of his cheek with your thumb. As if in response, he lay fully on you, his clothed cock settling against your core. But he made no further movements except to kiss your chest.

“I… I need you, Silco,” you said, huffing with want. He looked up at you with glazed eyes, clouded with lust.

“I need you too…” he admitted slowly. “But being forbidden from touching you… It is not an instinct easily overcome.”

“And yet, here we are,” you laughed softly. He lifted himself as you sat up, still hovering close to you. You held his face in your hands, cradling him gently. “I would have you take me as if you were a free man… Forget your station just this once.”

His pupils blew wide at your statement, his eyes darting between each of yours. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your face. “Are you certain? This is what you want?”

You nodded. “I— I only ask that you call me by my name, Silco.”

Still staring deep into your eyes, his mouth fell slightly open. “Can you stand?”

When you nodded again, he got off the bed, pulling you with him. He steered you gently but determinedly across the room, walking you to your standing mirror. Then he guided your hands to grip its engraved metal frame, his large hands warm as they enveloped yours, even as the mirror provided a refreshing coolness under your palms.

“Then I would have you watch me take you, as a free man,” he whispered in your ear. The sounds of him undressing were followed by the thump of his clothes hitting the floor. You could not see his nakedness as he stood behind you, but he nudged your feet with his own, adjusting your stance wider.

It was a vulnerable sight, seeing your naked self standing and leaning almost horizontal, grip tightening around the mirror. Silco slid his hands down your body to grab your hips, sending goosebumps rising on your skin. The tip of his cock teased your entrance before he finally, finally slid ever so slowly inside you. Inch by inch, your walls pushed apart before he was seated fully inside you, his pelvis resting against your backside.

He filled you perfectly, sending warm waves of pleasure radiating from your cunt, sinking you in warm bliss. A buzzing tingle cascading from your scalp to the very tips of your toes. Your panting breaths mingled with Silco’s as he shuddered, hooking his chin over your shoulder to kiss your neck.

“Can you feel me?” he asked lowly. One hand trailing from your hip to press against your lower stomach. He was solid and heavy inside you, your walls twitching around him. You whimpered, too breathless to do anything but nod.

“My lady…” he murmured into your ear. Then he stood upright again, pulling out of you before thrusting into you. His movements were slow and shallow, never leaving you empty for long, still becoming acquainted with the feel of your walls around him. A slowly climbing heat building inside you with every stroke, solidifying from a formless exhilaration into an unbearably hard knot winding tighter in your core. It was hard to stand steady, your whole body bouncing forward in time with his movements.

“P-please— Silco—” you panted in between whimpers. Your fingers curled tighter around the mirror, scrabbling for a handhold even as your senses faded to a near numbness. Only able to feel his cock sliding in and out of you repeatedly. “Say my name…”

“You misunderstand my meaning,” he said. “I mean to remind you that you are mine.”

Silco emphasized that last word with a snap of his hips, driving himself deeper than ever. You yelped as he hit something deep inside you, setting off a flare that overwhelmed you. Then his pace quickened, now plunging hard and fast into you.

“I could never let another man have you,” he panted. “You take me so well because you were meant for me— to take my cock and my seed for the rest of our lives— you are mine, and I will fill you endlessly even after your belly swells with our children—”

“M-make me yours, Silco,” you whined. You turned to look at him. Disheveled locks of his hair hanging over his eyes, his teeth bared in a feral grin, so frantic as his pace quickened and his fingernails dug deep into your flesh. “Please—!”

“You are mine—” he grunted, the smooth tenor of his voice rumbling into gravel. “To touch, to hold— to love.”

His next thrust was his deepest one yet and it had you cumming, your orgasm snapping the knot in your core as the ecstasy overtook you, freefalling into a forest fire that completely engulfed you. You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your screams. Your walls fluttering around his cock as he mercilessly kept pounding into you. He whispered your name finally, barely audible over the slap of his hips hitting your ass. It was said lovingly even as he chased his own release.

One last slam then he came, hot and thick ropes shooting into your womb, pumping and flooding deep inside you. The warmth that enveloped you burned higher as he hugged you tightly from behind, one arm barring across your waist as he pulled you even closer to him, a deep groan reverberating through his chest into yours. His other hand pulled yours away from your mouth as he kissed you, your whining muffled by his own mouth. He kept holding you even as the tides simmered down, gentle waves still lapping up your feet to lightly graze your core. 

Your legs trembled with the effort of keeping you upright, an ache between them already beginning to bloom into soreness. Silco pulled out of you, the combined slick of your releases dripping down your leg. He paid it no mind as he picked you up to carry you to the bed. You instinctively clung to him, refusing to let go even as he sat down. The sweat trailing down his neck tickled your nose as you nuzzled into him.

“My lady… forgive my presumptuousness,” Silco said agitatedly. He attempted to lay you down, but you stubbornly held onto him. Still weakened from before but determined to never be separated from him again.

You only pulled away from him just enough to look him in the eyes, placing one hand on his cheek to steer his gaze towards you. “Silco… I will not forgive you only because there is nothing to forgive. In fact, I am the one who must apologize to you.”

“Whatever for?” he asked, puzzled.

“For being so late in returning your sentiments,” you said softly. “I love you, Silco.”

Your confession shocked him, his eyebrows rising high and eyes widening. A teal pool and a hearth of coal that you could get lost in.

He smiled so brightly at you as he whispered your name reverentially, so overjoyed at being allowed to finally say it. “I love you too.”

You smiled and could not help but laugh happily. Resting your forehead against his as you gazed at him lovingly.

“Sir knight.”

“My lady.”

He took your hand and kissed your knuckles as you laughed again. Impatient for more, you yanked your hand out of his grasp to pull him into a hug, kissing him deeply. Wrapping your legs around his waist as he moved to lay you down, pinning you underneath him, ready to make love with you again. Indulging you as often as you wanted in every way you wanted. 

There would be much more planning to do in the future. But you could enjoy yourself for now, making memories that you would cherish forever. That you were finally in the arms of the one you loved. And that nothing could stand in the way of you being together. Only finding sleep a few hours before dawn, when your knight had to sneak back to his own room lest he be discovered in your bed.

Many months later after your wedding, he walked much closer to you. Your shoulder brushing up against his and your arm linked around his elbow. Side by side as it was always meant to be.

It was with great reluctance and resentment that you attended the stranger’s swearing, a sentiment you had expressed in no mild terms to your father. After all, your preference was to leave and join your elder brother on his travels. Your father regretfully and kindly acknowledged your frustration, but his word was firm: you were to accept the man’s service as if it were a souvenir from your mother, equivalent to a new scroll or dress. As if it were adequate recompense for being forced to stay home.

Still, you could not help but observe the man with curiosity. He was tall, dark-haired, and slender, carrying himself with a noble dignity more befitting a lord than an attendant. Armored with a severe and solemn manner that made you feel like you should be bowing to him instead of the other way around. His posture was ramrod straight even as he went to his knees, his eyes lowered to the ground as he raised his chipped, battle-worn sword for you to touch. Despite its appearance, the blade was cold and sharp underneath your fingers, as piercing as the look he gave you with his singular, uncovered eye. Turned upon you as he pledged his sword to you.

“Silco,” you declared his name for him and witnesses to hear. A strange name to be sure, the first sibilant syllable flowing smoothly into the next, unhindered by the tip of your tongue touching the back of your teeth. He stared at you throughout his rehearsed speech, swearing himself into service. It was only your training in genteel conduct that enabled you to return his gaze, sure that he could sense how uncomfortable you were with his silent appraisal of you.

After all the pomp and circumstance, your daily life continued mostly unchanged. He was a quiet shadow who escorted your every step. Your attempts to make him feel welcome and become better acquainted were politely but undeniably rebuffed with his short, avoidant answers. Soon the novelty of introducing him to your other attendants wore off, their attempts at engaging you in gossip buffeted by your genuine ignorance of his character, notwithstanding what your lord and lady parents had already shared with everyone.

(Your maids’ hushed giggles at his supposed good looks were especially bewildering, what with his large eyepatch covering almost the entire left side of his face. Perhaps they could glean his handsomeness from what little was visible— a long, distinctively pointed nose; sharply slanted high cheekbones; lined scars carved from his temple to the edges of his thin lips— but any attraction to him was beyond your own reckoning.)

So you ended your attempts at engaging him, speaking to him solely to wish him “good morning” or “good night”, or inform him of your intended plans for the day. He acknowledged all of these with impassive expressions and minute nods.

He navigated the corridors of your home with ease, but the first true test of his capabilities was escorting you through your father’s lands, through crowds of commonfolk and the cluttered arrangement of edifices. You dismissed your father’s concerns that assassins were lying in wait and resumed your thrice-weekly ventures into town. If you were to be caged to his estate, you refused to be confined to your father’s hall. At least the fresh air and sunshine still tasted of freedom.

The knight kept two paces behind you, closer to you than your other attendants who followed at five. You tried to ignore how claustrophobic his proximity made you feel, focusing instead on your usual duties of greeting the townspeople. Only acknowledging his presence when courtesy demanded you provide introductions before turning your back on him entirely. He watched you with a bored but observant eye as you conversed with others. Listening indifferently as you comforted a farmer’s worries about his harvest, gave a tonic to a woman whose husband was sick with fever, or offered honeyed candies to children who hailed you. His lips thinned with some indiscernible emotion when you freely offered silver to a young bride-to-be as a wedding present, but he voiced no remark on it.

All of these passed on the way to your first proper destination of the day, the town blacksmith. As you approached the smithy, you asked the knight a direct question for the first time in so many days.

“Did my father offer to have your sword repaired? Or are you to receive a replacement?” you inquired politely.

“He said that I am to receive a newly forged sword,” Silco said nonchalantly.

“Then perhaps it should please you to meet the blacksmith Talis; he will be responsible for crafting it,” you offered, greeting the artisan in question with a smile as your party arrived at his station. The two men exchanged pleasantries, and for the first time, the knight’s eye lit with feeling, albeit a subtle one: curiosity at what the craftsman was capable of, shining through while he studied the small armory critically.

Talis allowed the knight to handle a sword. The weapon was of an average caliber, a well-used short blade meant more for a soldier’s training than actual battle. Still, he examined it carefully, holding the blade close to observe the quality of the metalwork. It seemed to pass muster, as he next held it in a strong grip, passing it easily from one hand to the other. He handled it gracefully, slow thrusts and circular spins painting a hypnotic dance in the air, not a tool but an extension of his own body. It did satisfy you to see the knight return the weapon and offer his sincere gratitude to the smith, departing with a handshake and a tiny, upward quirk of his lips.

“Thank you,” he said to you, infused with a modicum of warmth. You would have liked to respond with a chuckle, but you restrained yourself.

“It was my pleasure—” the clamoring of church bells interrupted you, a sonorous rally calling everyone to daily prayers. Your party joined the slow surge of peoples making their way towards the church. Deep breaths helped calm you as swarms of bodies pressed in around you, meaningless chatter and thundering footsteps on the stone floor reverberating into an almost overwhelming cacophony.

After entering the church, you peered between heads and shoulders, seeking out the priest. It excited you to see Father Hoskel, one of your favorites. You peeled away on your own, heading straight to him while your retainers looked for seats in the pews. As you hoped, the knight chose not to sit with the congregation but stationed himself next to the only exit, his gaze following you dutifully as you reached the priest.

“Good day, child,” Hoskel received you with a mischievous smirk. Casually stepping aside as you walked around the pulpit to stand in front of him. Maneuvering himself so his back was to the room, his plump form shielding you from view.

“Good day, Father,” you replied cordially. Smiling as you clasped his wrinkled hands in yours, surreptitiously slipping a coin of silver into his grasp. “I trust that all is well with the church and your health?”

“All the better for having seen you today,” he beamed at you. Squeezing your hands in appreciation as he clumsily palmed the coin, tucking it into a pocket inside his habit. 

Continuing to chat about insignificant matters, your own impatience rose as the other churchgoers settled down. As their movements quieted, you bade farewell to the priest and left him, not heading back into the aisles but out a backdoor used only by the clergy, your exit concealed by the priest swishing his voluminous robe.

You were careful to keep your steps quick but quiet, exercising the utmost caution lest a careless echo gave away your escape. When you left the church threshold back outside where paved stone met dirt, exhilaration mounted in your heart. A deep breath of fresh air reinvigorated you as you turned towards the woods and hurried—

“Are you not meant to join the others in prayer?” a low, smooth tenor of a voice materialized behind you, startling you. It was the knight, standing formally straight, his hands clasped behind his back in bored ceremony. Questioning you condescendingly as if he were a nursemaid guiding a forgetful child.

Of all the people to be caught by, the knight was perhaps the least desirable one. You hid your irritation with a bright tone, “I prefer to meditate in private, in quiet contemplation where I might not be disturbed by others.”

He nodded in acknowledgement. But when you continued your way out of town, he persisted in following you. His footsteps were so silent, you were only alerted to his presence when an instinct nagged you to look over your shoulder.

“My apologies for not making myself clearer,” you faced him with gritted teeth bared in a false smile, still walking at a brisk pace. “I will offer my prayers in solitary contemplation.”

“Surely the church has a quiet vestry available for use,” he pointed out. “Will your prayers be heard in the woods?”

“Is nature not a part of God’s domain? He shall hear me no matter where I pray.”

“So why pray in the woods and not the church if they are one and the same?” he countered.

You huffed in annoyance, coming to a halt. He stopped as well, and his perfect imitation of your trajectory only served to provoke you even further.

“Please tell me, sir knight, do you answer to my father or myself?” you asked.

“Your father pays me with his silver but I am entirely at your disposal,” he answered with a small smirk, seemingly finding amusement in your exasperation.

“Then I would have you dispose yourself of my company and return to the church.”

“I’m afraid I cannot,” he said. “Your father’s orders were to never leave your side and they supersede your own.”

Does he only offer half his loyalty because he is in possession of only half a brain? You bit your tongue, holding back the retort. “What else did my father command of you?”

“To keep you safe from harm.”

“I assure you, there are no dangers in these woods. He has not compelled you to report on my every movement?”

“No. He will allow you a certain measure of privacy.” 

“If you take my silver, would that ensure your obedience to my request?” You flipped him a coin, which flew in the air towards his face before he caught it with a smooth, lazy sweep of his hand.

“Yes.”

“Then I ask that you keep your silence around my father regarding this outing,” you told him curtly, turning briskly on your heel to stride into the forest.

“As you wish, my lady,” he said mockingly. 

His unpleasant attitude normally would have chafed you, but it was overshadowed by your delight at his concession. You resumed your journey at a near-sprint, determined to make up for wasted time. A part of you hoped to outpace the knight but he matched your haste with seemingly no effort on his part, his long legs easily keeping up with your smaller stride. 

Neither of you made any further attempts at conversation. Your footsteps crunched dead leaves on the forest floor, seemingly amplified by the tension between you. It was entirely one-sided on your part, as you came to the gradual understanding that the knight was merely attempting to adhere to his duties in following you. You might have offered him an apology for your terseness, but there was the thought that he might be annoying you on purpose. After all, he did speak with a humor that was lost on you. If he took some enjoyment out of your sour mood it made you less inclined to ask for forgiveness.

The foliage gave way to wild stones, small pebbles rolling underfoot before lodging into the muddy ground. You were careful to lift the skirts of your dress out of a puddle. Mud sloped downwards into larger, blocky stones bordering a deep lake of clear cold water, shards of sunlight dancing on the surface ripples. An osprey shot down from the sky, diving and reemerging with a struggling fish in its talons.

You sighed as you perched on an especially large rock on the edge of the lake, letting your feet dangle above the water. If you were a free woman you would have liked to go swimming. As it were, stripping all the layers of your clothing would have been too much of a nuisance and you would have no way of drying yourself off. Returning home with your couture soaking wet would disappoint your lady mother and perhaps convince her to forbid any future excursions. But you could enjoy the view, a quiet forest oasis at the end of a river.

“What is your homeland like, sir knight?” you asked by way of making polite conversation. You turned around, expecting to see him standing behind you. It surprised you to find him standing quite a distance away from the riverbank, much too far to have heard your question. He seemed to have shrunken in on himself, not standing with his usual impeccable posture but hunched inwards, arms crossed and hands fisting his sleeves. His eye darted around erratically, looking at the ground, the sky, the trees… anywhere but the water.

You frowned and hopped down from your seat, carefully stepping between stones as you walked towards the knight, calling out to him, “Is something wrong?”

“There was a bear,” he mutters. “We should leave before it returns.”

He spun on his heel and stalked away without another word. Perplexed, you hurried to follow in his wake. You had never seen a bear in this part of the forest, a fact you keenly wanted to point out to him. As upsetting as it was to have your time in nature cut short, the knight was clearly troubled by… something. The exact nature of it was unknown to you, but he seemed to believe that it was in the woods. So determined he was to make his escape that he was indifferent to you lagging behind him, struggling to keep up with his quickened pace.

It was all for the better that the two of you left when you did; you passed the church just as the townsfolk were exiting it, allowing you to mingle in the exodus. No one was any the wiser that you had not attended the sermon. By the time you reunited with your entourage, the knight had regained his stoic composure, giving no indication that he had been so unduly disturbed. You had no opportunity to privately ask if he was well until later that evening when you were about to prepare for sleep. He outright ignored your inquiry— which he had never done before— and instead wished you a perfunctory goodnight.

It was another fortnight until Father Hoskel hosted daily prayers again. Seeing as he was the only priest who allowed you to bribe him and sneak away, you were quite ready for some much-needed alone time. 

Well, almost entirely alone— except for the knight.

“Worry not, sir knight,” you addressed him dryly, as the two of you once again traveled into the woods. “I shall not be heading for the river today. Who knows if another bear will arrive to disturb the peace?”

The remark was meant as a weak joke, so it surprised you to hear the knight let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief through slightly parted lips. His tightened, white-knuckled fist released from the hilt of his new sword to drift to his side, loose and relaxed. A curious reaction indeed… but you steered in a direction away from the river, onto a less traveled but still familiar path. It was a longer route, headed southwest instead of east, a carpet of fallen leaves growing ever thicker as you ventured deeper into the forest. Placing your hands on the thin birch trees, flecked with spots and stripes of dark wood underneath their ivory bark, rough and bumpy to the touch. The knight eased his way between them as if they were living creatures who parted to make room for him, such was the grace with which he carried himself.

You arrived at a clearing, a grassy meadow of wildflowers surrounded by a half-circle of trees. Skinny green stems ending in dotted blossoms of yellow, orange, pink, and purple, stretched towards the sky to soak up the sparse autumn sun. You would miss them dearly when they succumbed to the winter frost. For now, you watched a lone bumblebee alight on a golden coneflower, crawling onto a petal toward its seeded heart.

If you had been alone you would have plopped down onto your back, the grass tickling your ears as you studied the sky, framed by flower stems in your periphery. But in your present company, that would be unbecoming conduct of a lady. 

As you slowly sank to your knees, you tossed a coin in the knight’s direction. You had hoped to catch him unawares but he snatched it out of the air, rolling it over his knuckles before pocketing it.

“Payment for your continued silence and protection, sir knight. The bumblebees can pose quite a danger to a helpless maiden such as I,” you chuckled. He made no response, but you could swear the end of his lips twitched upward before sliding back into place, a downward tilted line bordering on a frown. As the bee flew towards your face, you held up a finger for it. The insect landed on your knuckle. Its face was cute, with large shiny black eyes surrounded by equally dark fuzz. Just as quickly as it landed, it buzzed away, sunlight shining through the delicate webbing on its wings.

“Winter will soon be upon us,” you said idly. “I hope to return to the river by then, as the bears will be in hibernation. It will be safe to visit.”

“Bears are unpredictable creatures. Surely you know of safer hideaways than the river,” a scowl briefly flitted across his face before it disappeared, but the notch between his eyebrows deepened, harsh enough to be seen under the strap of his eyepatch.

“The riverside is my favorite,” you said quietly, unable to keep the wistfulness from your voice. “There is peace in water.”

“Water is not peaceful,” he snarled. The vitriol in his voice startled you, his composure melting in the heat of his anger, radiating out and poisoning the air. The flowers leaned away in the wind as if they were frightened of him. “You play in the woods with such ignorance, knowing nothing of the dangers of the world.”

“I will not deny that you may have seen more of the world than I have, sir knight,” you said patiently. “But do not presume that you— an interloper— know more of my father’s lands than I. When I say the river is safe, it is safe. You will see the truth I speak of in time.”

He clenched his jaw, a tendon in his cheek tightening, making no effort this time to hide his grimace. Glaring at you before he turned away forcefully. But he did not disagree, as if he remembered to hold his tongue around you, the daughter of his lord.

You folded your hands in your lap, watching him closely. He seemed keen to storm off, and perhaps you would have let him. But you had seen this wild rage in a caged hound before when your brother rescued it from an abusive master. It would not let anyone approach it, threatening to bite those who came too close, unable to distinguish between those with good or malicious intent. The knight may not have barked at you with the same frothing wrath as the hound, but it was clear that he was in a similar state of distress.

“How do you bathe, sir knight?”

He swung to face you, his fury transformed into bafflement, blinking confusedly. Raised eyebrows rising above the strap of his eyepatch.

“It is a simple question,” you maintained calmly. “How do you bathe if you have such distaste for water?”

He continued staring at you before closing his eye. His posture relaxed minutely, his stiffened shoulders lowering as he exhaled a long, low sigh. Turning upwards to face the sky as he took another deep breath. This time, it was not to unleash some more barbed words but in anticipation. Steeling himself for whatever truths he was preparing to speak.

“You need not speak of your troubles if they are too painful to recall,” you added belatedly, berating yourself for your nosiness. “It is no one else’s business but your own.” 

“No… I ought to tell you. I have already told your lord and lady parents of it, and it is only natural that you should come to know as well.” 

You waited in patient silence as the knight swallowed apprehensively, his throat bobbing. His tongue darted out to lick his upper lip. All throughout, his gaze latched onto something far off in the distance, not quite beholding the nature around him. 

“I had a brother once, not long ago,” he began slowly, voice low, spoken towards the flowers under his feet instead of you. You scooted forwards surreptitiously, keen to pick up on his words. “We were born into the lowest of poverty. Every meal we had was stolen or begged for or sometimes won with crude but necessary violence.

“I was a much weaker fighter then, an unworthy burden on my brother. But he never minded, or claimed not to mind. It was very generous of him to care for me the way he did. I would not blame him if he left to seek out his own fortune, but he stayed.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips now, but his eye remained downcast and sorrowful. Struggling not to lose himself in whatever nostalgia was left of better times. When you patted the ground next to you, he either did not notice or declined your invitation to be seated next to you. 

“We had a shared dream, not of living richly but of living well. Some days it seemed more futile than others; some days we came close to dying. But through it all, we had each other. And it should have been that way until the very end…”

His eye shone, a tear on the verge of spilling out. You were loath to look away, so captivated you were by his history and display of emotion. He clearly needed comfort but you were afraid to prematurely interrupt his telling. Still, he showed no inclination to move closer to you, so lost in his memories that he seemed to forget you were there. 

“We often supplemented our meager diet with fishing. I thought nothing of it when he asked me to accompany him to a river… but his intent was to kill me. If not with his knife then to drown me like a witch,” he laughed bitterly.

You stifled a gasp as your hands flew to your mouth. The horrors paralyzed you, legs frozen and rooted to the ground. Heart aching with sympathy for his pain. For there was no denying that he was in pain, and perhaps had been for as long as you had known him or even longer. 

“He is the reason why I have such ‘distaste’ for water, and why I only have one good eye,” a snarl burned the edges of his voice, his mourning turning into a jagged hatred for the brother he once loved. The knight raised a hand to his face, fingers trailing over his eyepatch. 

“Where is he now?”

“Dead,” he said simply, his tone of voice fell flat and sullen. “What an irony— the only fight I won on my own was against my very own brother.”

He sagged, arms rising from his sides to hold himself. Protection against whatever demons were plaguing him. The sky grayed overhead as if it mirrored the darkness consuming him.

You rose to your feet, taking a testing step forward. Not wishing to crowd the knight but to offer whatever consolation he might find in your presence.

“I— I only wish—” the knight whispered, “Why did you do it, brother…?” A soft, heartbroken plea to a dead man who would never hear him.

It was essential that your next words be spoken carefully. So you spoke, slow and quiet, attempting at compassion and not pity, “You could never be a burden, sir knight. We all must rely on others for our own needs. I am only sorry that your brother and your country could not rise to the task—”

“He was a good man,” the knight spat, the flare of his temper once again threatening to burn you. “Do not presume to speak as if you knew him.”

“He was a good man who tried to maim and kill you? Are good men forced to perform such atrocities where you come from?” you pointed out.

The knight glared at you, but you did not wither. He forcefully turned away from you again. Perhaps your queries had crossed a line, but they needed to be said. This time, there would be no getting him to look at you again.

“I am sorry,” you said again. “But it was a terrible thing he did to you that you did not deserve.”

Would that your sentiments were enough to heal his wounds… but he did not round on you again to shout. He fell to his knees, still facing away from you. A slow stumble like a column of snow collapsing under its own weight.

“Please… leave me,” the knight asked, low and brokenly.

“Do you remember the way back?”

He nodded, a miniscule motion of his head that you almost missed.

You spoke out to him one last time before departing, “I will not tell you to cease mourning your brother. Would that he loved you the way you loved him… But you deserve to live, sir knight; you are worthy of life and good health. I hope that in time, you will accept it as truth.”

───────────────── ●◉◎⚜◎◉● ─────────────────

At the time, you were reluctant to tell the knight that he was excused from his duties for the rest of the day if he so wished it. As it were, he should not have been bothered with such mundane affairs amidst his suffering.

No doubt his heart was heavy enough without the additional burden of work.

When your handmaidens joined you outside the church, they inquired as to his whereabouts. You were about to tell them he had returned to his quarters, struck by a sudden illness. But the knight himself reappeared at your shoulder, so stealthily it was almost a miracle. His eye and his nose were reddened but he seemed no worse for the wear. The armor of his impenetrable composure locked back into place. In fact, he thanked you for your patience and divulged nothing further.

For the entirety of the walk back to your father’s hall, you fought the temptation to look back at the knight or pull him aside to speak to him. Such an opportunity did not arise until late into the evening when he escorted you to the staircase leading to your private chambers.

“Sir knight,” you addressed him. He had steered his gaze away from you all day. It was a customary standoffish practice you were familiar with, but he seemed to do it today out of embarrassment for his earlier display of emotion. A man like the knight would have seen it as weakness and preferred that you did not speak of it again.

But you were determined to help him in whatever way he would accept.

“Yes?” he said formally.

“We may part company tomorrow if you wish,” you offered. “An ailment of the heart should be tended to the same as any other sickness, with rest and recuperation.”

He blinked at you, puzzled. Opening his mouth to speak before he cleared his throat, “There’s no need. I will be fully capable of attending to you.”

“Be that as it may, the day is yours to do with as you please. Rest well, sir knight.”

“…rest well, my lady,” he said slowly. Returning your nod with a lower bow of his head.

The knight did not attend to you the next day, sending word of how he felt unwell. You felt sorrow for his pain but were a little gladdened that he was taking the time to grieve. It was unlikely that he would heal overnight from the wounds his brother inflicted, but with time, you were hopeful that the pain would become less overwhelming.

You did not breach the topic of his past again, but on your future outings you were keen to avoid the river. Showing him other places that you liked to visit, more determined than ever to make him feel at home in your father’s lands.

The meadow was home to your favorite bloom, the purple coneflower, with a heart of dark orange and warm pinkish-purple petals, long and straight, a plain beauty but still pleasing to the eye. As a child, you liked to pick them to sneak into your room. But they were hard to preserve as they often got squashed in the small pockets of your dress. At your current age, you were happy to observe them in nature in all their wild glory.

Farther into the woods, there were rings of mushrooms where the air hung still and quiet, with a fog that never seemed to disappear even on the sunniest of days, and no birds dared to sing. The less godly peasants whispered of fae that would snatch away any person who dared disrupt the circles. The clergy heartily disavowed such tales as frivolous. Still, it brought you great amusement to speculate if such otherworldly creatures were real. The knight himself could not be bothered to form an opinion on the matter, but you noticed him keeping his distance from the mushrooms.

To the east of the mushrooms was a wild apple orchard. They dotted both the ground and branches with yellow and red, so ripe and ready to fall without needing to be plucked. You polished one with your sleeve, glad to not be in the company of a handmaiden who would scold you for your indelicate manner. When you encouraged the knight to partake in a fruit, it surprised you that he obliged. He reacted swiftly when you shrieked. But it was only a green worm that alarmed you, skinny and wriggling on the skin of an apple you held. 

It was hard to gauge which sites he liked the best, or if he liked them at all. His impassivity never changed. The only exception was when he smiled at the fright the insect gave you. Still, his manner towards you did seem warmer, his voice less frostbitten when he greeted you at dawn’s beginning and dusk’s end. 

The times were peaceful, much to your satisfaction. It was proof that your father’s fears were uncalled for. But more importantly, the knight needed peace. His homeland was the sort of place where people could not sleep soundly, but had to guard themselves with one eye open and a knife under their pillow. Your family’s estate was much safer. With the exception of the day you introduced him to the blacksmith, the knight had seen no need to draw his sword while you were under his care.

The day when he unsheathed it to protect you was a frightful one indeed.

In the whole span of your knight’s employment, he had never tasted any poison in your food. It did occur to you once to play a joke on your father by pretending to choke and fall to the ground, convulsing melodramatically. The likelihood of your knight landing in trouble due to your antics was unlikely. Still, he would not deserve the potential scolding your father could mete out. Although your knight might find amusement in the lecture your mother would give you on your unladylike conduct.

“Have you grown used to your knight, child?” your father asked. Of course not bothering to ask your knight if he had grown used to serving you.

“Yes, he serves me well. Thank you, father,” you said. If only you could turn in your seat to smile at your knight as you said that, but the backing of your chair was too high to do that comfortably.

“Perhaps he could accompany you during your voyage overseas,” your father said. “I may have been too hasty in forbidding you and your mother from traveling. After all, this year has passed peacefully, has it not?”

“Yes, it has,” your mother said. “I have spent entirely too much time in this hall, darling. I am only reminded how much I should appreciate you after spending time away.”

“And I love you all the more after your absences,” your father laughed. He reached out for your mother’s hand and grasped it lovingly. She smiled and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

They were often prone to such displays, as their affection had seemingly never diminished since the early days of their courtship. You and your brother had often looked upon them with comical disgust, but now you looked on with wonder. Would you ever find something like that with someone?

Could you find something like that with your knight—?

Your lord father called out your name. “I thought you would be pleased to travel again. The ship and crew are still available to escort you to your original destination.”

“I am, father, thank you,” you said hastily. The place you had hoped to visit was a week away by ship, an ocean away with foods and flora you had never seen before but only read about. The language of their people was foreign to you, and you had studied it diligently to gain a better understanding of their culture. Much time had been spent on preparations for the trip, so you were understandably quite upset when your father canceled it.

Now, though… you still could not turn to face your knight as your father was looking at you expectantly. You sipped from your cup before speaking, “Actually, I was hoping to travel north. There are forests there that remain green even through the winter. I should quite like to study a land where spring reigns eternal. There would be no need to travel by sea,” you added.

“Really?” your mother asked, looking at you skeptically.

You nodded and continued eating, keen to put an end to the conversation. If your parents questioned your true motives for changing your mind, then they might think of your knight’s fear of water as incompetence.

“Then it would please me greatly to take your place on that voyage, child,” your mother said. “It sounds like quite the adventure.”

“Is staying home not enough of an adventure for you, my dear?” your father asked.

“Of course. Being married to you is the greatest adventure one could ever have,” she teased. They both laughed. Your knight cleared his throat, which he only did when he was trying to suppress a chuckle.

───────────────── ●◉◎⚜◎◉● ─────────────────

Traveling the world was already very exciting, but having your knight’s company in a new land was another prospect you were looking forward to. The gloomy, heavy gray skies could not dampen your good mood. A week later on one of your clandestine trips into the woods, you were about to ask him if there was anywhere he would like to visit. But he spoke first before you could ask.

“My lady,” he began. His tone was cool and calm as always, but there was a gleam of anticipation in his good eye. “Would you allow me the privilege of choosing where we go today?”

Your knight had never requested anything of you before. It was quite a surprise, the nature of which piqued your curiosity. “Of course, sir knight. Please lead the way.”

He smiled at you, a soft feather of a thing, so precious that you would hold it close if you could. Then he walked off into the woods at a measured enough speed that you could keep up easily.

How strange it was to be the one following instead of leading. Cold winds blew through you as if they were eager to trail him as well, rolling clouds heavy with impending rain across the skies. Curiouser still how he lead you on a path you had not taken in over a year— east towards your favorite river. You said nothing yet. What could his intentions be? You walked carefully in the mud, exercising the utmost caution. A misplaced step could dirty your dress and lead to interrogations and scoldings on where you went, what you did, and why. All very tedious conversations you hoped to avoid.

With his sturdy boots and thick trousers, your knight had no such reservations. He forged ahead relentlessly. He did look over his shoulder at you once or twice and you smiled at him. It was an instinct now, to smile at your knight whenever he looked at you. It was a hard impulse to curb when you were surrounded by other people with watchful eyes that might turn the smallest, most innocent actions into salacious gossip.

He stopped at the edge of the river, where the rocks still lay on dry land before they disappeared under the water’s surface. He rolled a small pebble under his boot before kicking it away decisively. It bounced over other rocks before landing in the water with a splash. Then, he turned to you with a determined expression.

“My lady, would you close your eyes for a moment?” he asked.

You nodded hesitantly, the world falling dark as you raised your hands over your eyes for good measure. You held them there even as a singular raindrop landed on your shoulder, the initial herald to oncoming rains. It was more important to demonstrate compliance with your knight’s request. But the waiting dragged on in boring agony with nothing to look at and almost nothing to listen to, save for the babbling waters.

After a few more minutes by your estimation, he still had not called out to you. What was he doing? You opened one eye and peeked cautiously through a gap in your fingers—

He was standing with his back turned to you. Waist deep in the water.

“Sir knight!!” you yelled, shocked. You ran clumsily over the rocks and crashed into the water. Cursing how it impeded your speed.

He turned just as you reached him. He caught you by your elbows as you grabbed his upper arms, a look of surprise on his face. The current swayed strongly around the two of you, disturbed by your hasty charge into the river.

“My lady,” he chuckled at your panic, ever the picture of serene stillness. “Do not be afraid. All is well.”

It was true. There was no need to rescue your knight from drowning when the river only came up to his waist, his head higher above the surface than your own. In your sudden realization that he was fine, your face flared in heat from embarrassment. Burning hot enough to counter the cold of the weather and the water. You would have looked away in mortification, but the sight was too wonderous to turn away from: He was standing there unbothered and was in fact smiling at you. Such a drastic change from how he acted over a year ago when he first followed you here.

“Please do not avoid the river or traveling by sea on my account, my lady,” he said. “I am no longer afraid.”

“How— but— the water— are you alright??” you asked breathlessly, the cold and exertion robbing you of air. He gently squeezed your arms in reassurance, his thumbs rubbing the inside of your sleeves. The churning waters around you calmed, holding you both gently as if in a cupped palm, the skirts of your dress floating around you.

“I let a weak man die,” he said. “To end the fear of pain, so that it could no longer control me. I am strong now.”

“You have always been strong, sir knight,” you reminded him. “To survive everything you endured until now… there are very few who could bear it.”

“But now I am able to serve you fully.”

“You have always served me well,” you protested. “There is no need to subject yourself to undue distress.”

He shook his head. “I am now able to see the truth you speak of, my lady. There is peace in water… just as I find peace with you.” His smile was so tender, so open. 

“Sir knight…” you said, swallowing hard. Stammering as you tried to find the right words to say. He let you stew in your awkwardness, his smile never fading the whole while, his sincerity changing into teasing at your expense.

When you first met, he did not seem capable of such vulnerability, much less sharing it with you. He needed only to carry out the duties you and your lord father assigned him. But to go above and beyond to indulge your desires that you had suppressed for so long… no one had ever shown you such kindness. It was a truly moving gesture.

“Sir knight…” you started again. “I do not have the words to properly convey the depths of my gratitude… Thank you. It must have been quite the ordeal to overcome your fear.”

“You could pass a lifetime without ever facing a challenge like that,” he said. “But it changes you forever. For that, I thank you, my lady.”

You pinched his arm, frustrated at how he was deflecting credit away from himself. “I played no part in your accomplishments, sir knight. Your success belongs solely to you.”

“I believed I had already reached the peak of my strength. You showed me how much stronger I could become.”

“I never meant to give you the impression that your fear of water was a weakness, sir knight. That was not my intention,” you cringed at yourself. “I am sorry.”

“Please do not misunderstand. You did nothing wrong—” your knight was interrupted by water falling on his brow. He blinked in surprise. The scattered sprinkle turned into a consistent splatter, then heavy sheets that drenched you both. Your dress was already soaked from the river, but water was now running down your head.

He let go of you. Just as you were about to mourn the loss of his touch, his hand alighted on your wrist. Pulling you gently but firmly as he trudged out of the river, the surface now hammered by the falling rain. You grabbed a fistful of your skirts and lifted them as high as you could, following him onto land.

He never let go even as he slowed down, allowing you time to carefully navigate over the slippery riverside rocks. As soon as you were clear of them, he sped up again, heading towards the forest. Intent on finding shelter under a tree. Your knight pulled you to his side, his shoulder pressing against yours. Still keeping hold of you, no longer gripping you but just grazing the end of your sleeve, his hand a loose bracelet around your wrist.

You instinctively turned to him. Perhaps he felt the same impulse for you met each other’s eyes at exactly the same time. You laughed as water dripped off his hair to land on your face. “We have been blessed with luck, sir knight. I was afraid we would have no suitable explanation for why we are both sopping wet.”

“I am quite blessed indeed,” he murmured, looking deep into your eyes.

What on earth did he mean? Your face flushed, heat tingling in your cheeks and ears before you could compose yourself. You let the damp locks of your hair fall in front of your eyes as you looked down, busying yourself with pulling your kerchief out of your pockets. Suddenly shy from the look he was giving you.

“May I?” you held up the kerchief. He nodded, and you proceeded to dab softly at him, wiping away the trails of water that trickled down his face. He closed his good eye as you wiped his brow, his cheek, and the bridge of his nose, so gently as to not accidentally prod or poke him. Water had pooled in the bow and scar of his lip, an invitation to touch him in that most intimate of places…

It was too frightening a prospect. You quickly swiped at his mouth, flinging water off his face. He chuckled and opened his eye, but all merriment drained from his face when you made to lift his eyepatch.

“Thank you,” his grip retightened around your wrist, not painfully but in an undeniable warning. “That’s enough.”

“Are you sure? It is quite soaked through. Please, at least let me wring it dry.”

“My lady… I fear that the sight may frighten you. It is not pleasant to look at.”

“Nothing could frighten me, sir knight,” you said softly. “Not if it’s you.”

His good eye widened at your declaration, his piercing gaze returning to determine the truthfulness of your words. When you did not waver or recant, he nodded slightly, closing his eye again.

The eyepatch was large and triangular with a thick band that covered almost the entirety of his left eyebrow. He had owned this particular eyepatch long enough that it molded to the shape of his cheekbone, curving concave to end level with his nostrils. Its color was the deepest black, embroidered with smooth scarlet thread at its edges. Your family crest was embroidered on the patch itself in light gold, as beautiful as reflected sunlight on the river’s surface. The thing was too precious to manhandle, so you patted it dry as best as you could before turning to his face.

His scars were extensive enough that the accessory could not completely cover them. They crawled outwards from his eye to beyond the edge of his temple, jagging through his hairline. You had seen the scars that ended on his lip before; they were not a collection of smaller cuts as you previously wondered, but part of a long line that flowed uninterrupted down from the eye socket. Another scar parallel to it curved towards his chin. A spiderweb of cracked lines concentrated most intensely where the lower lid of his eye would have been were it not missing entirely. The skin itself was ruined, unevenly colored an ashy gray that would not wipe away to match the same, healthier pale tone of his body.

Then there was the eye itself. The upper lid was missing as well, revealing a sclera completely colored black. The shape of the iris was amorphous around the edges, shapeless clouds of ink in water. For such a thin ring, the iris was many brilliant shades of orange, bright flickering flames in a bed of coal. 

The ruin of his face was less frightening than what it represented. For such a gentle man to experience such a horrific injury at the hands of a loved one was too painful to bear. A lump in your throat arose as you resumed patting his face dry. Conscientious of starting at his hairline first before moving down to his brow. Did he experience pain when water dripped into the unprotected eye?

“It’s alright, my lady,” your knight said patiently. “You need not look at it any longer than you wish to.”

“Please do not misunderstand, sir knight,” you whispered. “I only hate to imagine how you must have endured so much pain and fear that day…” More frightening still was the irrational but not impossible prospect that your knight could face similar violence in the future. The fact that your knight’s entire tenure was peaceful did not quell the anxiety that threatened to choke you. 

“And yet I am strong now,” he repeated, voice low and soft, a whisper of wind over gravel. “Just as I am always meant to be.”

Your knight’s face was as dry as it could possibly be given the circumstances. You raised your free hand as high as you could above him, hoping to shield him from any errant raindrops that might fall from the branches above. You took an unconscious step forward as his hand glided down to your elbow, holding you close. Your hand holding the kerchief cradled his face… such a thin layer of cloth preventing you from touching him unhindered, skin-on-skin.

He was close enough to see and perhaps feel the heat of your blush on your face. Could he also hear how your heart hammered away from both anxiety and anticipation? It was a fearful excitement that would normally have you running away if you were not rooted to the ground, bound to your knight by some invisible compulsion. 

To be bound to your knight would be bliss. He was quite literally within arm’s reach. He leaned into your palm, raising his own hand towards your face—

“We should return home,” you blurted out, jumping back. You shoved your kerchief and his eyepatch into his still outstretched hand. “There is no telling if the rain will end soon.”

You turned and scurried away, pulling your dress off the ground with both hands. Not waiting for your knight to readjust his eyepatch. But the sound of his footsteps followed behind you soon enough.

Because of course he was still loyal to you. Even if you might be wedded to someone else in the future. Even if he was dedicated to you, you could not pledge the same to him.

You would do better to remember that.

───────────────── ●◉◎⚜◎◉● ─────────────────

An illness fell upon you in the days to come. It was nothing serious, only a slight cold from your time in the river and rain. However, your lord father did once again treat it as a disaster. You were confined to your bedchamber and only a select few were allowed to visit you. Unfortunately, your knight was not included among them.

He had only come into your service less than two years ago. But now you could not imagine a life without him, and the days with only your handmaidens and father for company were quite lonely indeed. But on one trip to the washroom, late at night, you found a bouquet of your favorite coneflowers at your doorstep, wrapped in your kerchief. You grabbed it and held it close, clutching it to your chest. In the morning, you placed it close to your window.

Your mother had already departed for her travels before the day you followed your knight into the river. In his haste, your father had sent word of your sickness to her, for which she came back early.

“I am sorry, mother,” you said as she sat next to you on your bed. “You needn’t have returned home for my sake. I am almost entirely recovered now.”

“That is quite alright,” she said, placing the back of her hand on your forehead. “I am only relieved that you are better. There is something I wish to share with you.

“In my time abroad, I attended a sword-fighting tournament. It was quite exciting,” your mother said, eyes bright with giddiness. “We will be hosting one soon for my birthday and I intend to have your knight participate.”

“WHAT?!?” you shouted angrily. You would have said much more but you exploded into a fit of painful, hacking coughs.

Your mother held up a cup of water for you to drink from, disregarding your outburst entirely. “I thought you would enjoy seeing one. It has been quite a while since the last one.”

The last time you attended one was years ago during some celebration you could not recall exactly. You had enjoyed it no more or less than any of the other festivities that day. It was just like your lady mother to impose what she wanted onto others without consideration for anyone’s feelings but her own.

“My knight will not join. I forbid it,” you said as sternly as possible in between your coughing.

She merely looked upon you dismissively. “I must test his capabilities, child. If he is not a worthy fighter then I shall have another join your service.”

“Has he not already proved himself to you? He did save your life, mother,” you pointed out.

“And yet my daughter deserves only the best. This is the only way to determine his competence.”

“You are only interested in watching every able-bodied man of these lands fight,” you accused. “If you are so keen to witness some swordplay, why not take up the blade yourself?”

“Why, I am much too old and delicate to take up arms, child,” she laughed good-naturedly. “And this is much more fun.”

There was nothing more you could do to sway your mother. You were still fuming when she tucked you in and kissed you goodnight.

Another week passed before you were fully well again, and then another few days dragged on when your father insisted you continue resting. You were therefore quite eager for your next chance to find some private time with your knight.

In your time apart, he had accumulated some bruises on his face and neck and moved with a stiffness that spoke of sore muscles. It had taken all your restraint not to descend upon him when you first saw him at breakfast, surrounded by your family and other attendants. 

Now in the privacy of the meadow, you fussed over him.

“Are you well now, my lady?” he asked.

“Never mind that,” you said impatiently. “Are you alright??”

“I am fine, my lady. These injuries are not serious,” he said. “I have merely resumed training. In this time that I have served you, I have not raised my sword once. I must not dishonor you with my negligence.” “You could never dishonor me, sir knight,” you protested. “And I care very little for my ‘honor’. I only wish to keep you safe from harm. If only my mother prioritized your safety over her own amusement!!”

He would have replied but was suddenly interrupted by a yawn he could not suppress.

“Are you tired? You should return home—”

“No, my lady,” he said. “I wish to stay by your side.”

He was stubborn, immune to your further attempts at persuasion. So instead you laid on your back, fully stretched out and staring into the sky. “Lie next to me, sir knight, if you insist on accompanying me.”

He raised an eyebrow at you but laid down obediently. As soon as he lay flat, his good eye began to shutter from weariness. You said nothing as he succumbed to slumber, not wishing to disturb him.

───────────────── ●◉◎⚜◎◉● ─────────────────

You seemed to be the only one who was not looking forward to the tournament. If you could magically summon rain and thunder with your bad mood, then you would have flooded the town. As it were, the sun was shining bright and merrily on the first day of celebrations. A low wooden barrier was erected in the middle of town, carving out a circle for the arena. Tents had also been set up for the participants’ use where they could prepare in privacy.

The last opportunity you had to speak with the knight was the night before. Then the morning had been filled with preparatory work of your own, imposed by your lady mother who insisted you wear your finest dress and jewelry for the occasion. Then breakfast had been a feast in and of itself, with many other lords and ladies who had traveled from afar to attend. Forced to play the part of the obedient daughter, you offered as much hospitality as you could while glancing around frantically for your knight. He was nowhere to be seen.

Now, seated next to your father outdoors on a raised wooden platform overlooking the arena, the first match of the day was about to start. At least your mother had the consideration to only have your knight participate in a singular exhibition match, the first one of the day. He would not have to fight in multiple rounds, but that did nothing to quell your uneasiness.

Your knight’s opponent stepped into the ring first. He was a younger man named Finn, just as tall and broad of shoulder as your knight, but more muscular. Brilliant green eyes shone through under his dark hair, cropped close to his ears. He seemed more of a showman than a fighter in the way he stalked around the edge of the arena, arms outstretched and soaking up cheers and applause, banging his sword against his shield to encourage more noisemaking from the audience. His wide smirk grew into a sneer as he turned and pointed his sword at your knight, who had only just entered the ring.

Your knight’s entrance was much more understated. He walked calmly towards the center of the arena in long and confident strides, with a straight back and a proud, dignified bearing. Ignoring his opponent’s attempts to mock him with words you could not make out. 

The two men circled each other a fair distance apart. Finn swaggered and jeered, feinting lunges at your knight to intimidate him. Throughout it all, your knight never flinched, stepping at a steady pace, sure and confident. Crouched low behind his shield with his sword raised level, pointing at his opponent. The tip of his weapon tracing small circles in the air.

You gasped when your knight’s shield came into view: he had painted your favorite purple coneflower on it, a dark orange seeded heart on the center disc while long straight petals unfurled outwards, filling the entire shield to touch the rim. If you could have run into the ring to pull your knight to safety, you would have.

Finn charged. Not another feint but a leap and a heavy swing of his sword at your knight’s left eye. An understandable move as the eyepatch would have fooled anyone into believing it was his blind spot.

But your knight raised his shield just in time to catch the blow. Finn’s sword glanced downwards. Quick as a flash, your knight slashed at Finn’s exposed side and jumped backwards. Almost dancelike with how quick and graceful he was on his feet.

The younger man swore and glared at your knight. Dropping all pretense of playing as he snarled, raising his sword and shield once again. Crashing his shield into your knight’s. But your knight never stumbled, still calm and unshakeable.

Another downward slash from Finn. Your knight blocked it with his sword. Then Finn slashed again and again, raining down a flurry of blows. All of them were blocked skillfully by your knight. But he was forced to walk backwards as the sheer barrage of Finn’s attacks pushed him closer and closer towards the edge of the arena.

Your knight was backed up against the barrier. He was forced to dodge Finn’s next blow by jumping sideways. Finn rammed his shield into your knight’s side, sending him tumbling to the ground. A kick to your knight’s wrist forced him to drop his sword.

Finn kicked the blade out of your knight’s reach, dropping his shield to snatch it for himself. He crossed both swords overhead, yelling in triumph. The crowd cheered along while you gasped in horror. Your knight leaped to his feet just as Finn shoved the discarded shield towards him. A surprisingly chivalrous gesture from Finn. Leaving one fighter with two swords and the other with two shields.

Your knight crouched low as he raised both shields. Peeking out over the tops of them. Finn laughed as he charged again, raising both swords high. But it was another feint— just as your knight raised the shields to block again, Finn turned and slammed his shoulder into the shields. Your knight held strong, staying on his feet.

Finn seemed to realize his mistake. Your knight was now a moving wall, made impenetrable by the second shield. He matched Finn’s speed move for move, blocking each attack perfectly. Waiting for his opponent to tire himself out.

A spinning slash from Finn. His back was exposed. Your knight charged into Finn, sending him crashing to the ground. The younger man dropped the swords and rolled onto his back. Only for your knight to pin him to the ground with a knee. Shield rim shoved under Finn’s chin.

Finn struggled but your knight did not yield. Whatever your knight was saying to his opponent was inaudible from so far away. But it seemed enough to make the younger man drop his head to the ground in frustrated defeat. Boos and cheers in equal measure exploded into the air as the victor got to his feet. Bowing in your direction before walking off.

You slipped away from your seat before anyone noticed, ducking into the tents. You passed through several, catching their occupants by surprise.

Finally, you found him. He turned to face you just as you entered.

He was shirtless, his chainmail shirt discarded on a nearby table. His eyepatch was missing as well. Leaving him the most exposed that you had ever seen him. Sweat dripped down his long neck to pool in his collarbone, then traced the contours of his thin but wiry arms. His toned chest rising and falling with each breath. Scars and bruises alike smattered irregularly under his skin. Large veined hands slinging a cloth over his shoulder. Trousers clinging to his tapered waist. Every muscle and sinew threading together to form his handsomely slender physique, tall and elegant even without clothing.

Oh. “I am so sorry—”

“My lady,” he said, surprised. “I did not expect to see you so soon.”

“I wanted to see you,” you said, squinting at the ground.

“Forgive me,” he said. A rustle of cloth, then the sound of him patting himself down. You looked up to see that he was now wearing a loose shirt. The deep V of the neckline ended above his ribs, giving you a tantalizing glimpse of his nakedness that you had so enjoyed.

“There is nothing to forgive, sir knight,” you said after clearing your throat. “I am sorry for interrupting you at such an inopportune moment.”

“All is well, my lady. I wanted to see you too. Please,” he gestured towards a wooden stool, inviting you to take a seat.

You smiled at him, finally relaxing from the stress that had built up since your mother’s announcement. “No thank you, sir knight. You need it more than myself. You fought valiantly! Are you hurt?”

“Thank you,” he smiled back. “It is nothing that a good night’s rest will not cure.”

“I am sorry my mother put you through this,” you cringed at her childishness. “I wish I could promise that she will never do so again.”

“As your father’s wife, I am obliged to serve her whims as well,” he said diplomatically, to which you snorted. “I am glad that she will allow me to remain in your service.”

“Thank goodness… you are the only one for me,” you sighed, then hastily added, “Another knight would be quite unnecessary.”

He raised an eyebrow at you in puzzlement. “Strange… your mother told me if I lost, I would be relieved of my duties entirely. If I had known they would only be halved then I should have been less afraid of defeat.”

Your jaw dropped at your mother’s audacity. Then you ground your teeth, doing your best not to cuss at your mother out loud.

“I should hate to lose the pleasure of your close company,” your knight said, even as he chuckled at your fury. “But I am glad to have your mother’s blessing.”

“Would that I could order you to give her a taste of your blade,” you grumbled. “Thank you for the flowers, sir knight. That was very kind of you.”

“Not at all,” he said simply. “I missed you.”

What a strange thing for him to say when you were standing right in front of him. But perhaps the tournament had weighed just as heavily on his mind as it did on yours, what with your mother threatening to end his employment. 

“I missed you too,” you said softly. “I hope to see you again soon, sir knight.” As much as you preferred your knight’s company over your mother’s, it was time you left to rejoin her.

“My lady,” he said by way of goodbye, nodding once. He watched you closely as you departed. Hopefully, it would not be long before you were reunited with him again.

But the knight never complained, remaining as close to you as always. If you were not the daughter of his lord, there was no doubt he would have voiced his displeasure in many colorful words. As it were, you suspected he held his tongue not for your sake but your father’s. You paid the knight extra silver whenever he indulged your whimsy and made sure the kitchens supplied him generously with hot broth for his supper.

Still, the arrival of spring was more than welcome. The snowmelt was slow, the ground churning with slush and mud under your feet. Weak rays of the sun returned, piercing through the clouds as a soft caress on earth and skin. Then breezes blew in with gentle, refreshing warmth. The trees were no longer naked but dotted with little green buds, promising to grow into full leaves. You no longer trudged through piles of snow. Small piles of unmelted frost no larger than a puddle remained, none of them large enough to mischievously shove the knight into.

At the beginning of the season, the wildflowers were asleep. Nothing poked out of the dirt yet except for short grass. And yet you visited the meadow as often as you could, hoping to see the vibrant blooms once again.

The unexpected discovery was immediately visible.

From a distance, the thing was round, small, and white. At first, you thought it was another lump of snow. You paid it no mind and made to sit at your favorite spot, but the knight stepped in front of you, an arm raised in caution.

“What is it—”

The knight hushed you, turning to raise a long finger to his lips.

He stepped forward cautiously, raising and lowering his feet with the utmost care so that his steps might not be heard.

His hand drifted slowly but purposefully towards his sword, grip wrapping slowly around the hilt. Unsheathing it deliberately so that the noise was low.

At last he brought his sword to a draw. You followed him, unconsciously mirroring his pace.

You both took another step forward and then the shape sprung up. Or it tried to, before collapsing onto the ground again. 

It was a tiny wolf pup, white on its chest and grey on its back and head. Black eyes and a small nose stood out on its soft face. The breeze ruffled its short fur, no doubt fuzzy to the touch if only you could pet it. It had not yet grown into its overly large paws, sized like apples at the end of thin sticks. Pointed ears lay flat against the back of its head as it regarded you and the knight with wariness and fear. When it yelped and growled, it was too high-pitched and juvenile to be anything except adorable.

The knight seemed to feel differently. He walked more confidently and quickly forward, raising his sword to swing.

“Stop!!” you cried out when you realized his intent. “Lower your sword!”

He did but did not sheath it. When you stomped over to him, he pointed at the pup. There was a wound on a leg that you had not noticed before. The smears of dried blood on the creature’s fur obscured its severity, but the pup whined in pain and licked furiously at it. Such was its distress that it ignored the threat of the sword to tend to its own hurt. But it explained why the wild animal did not flee at the sight of humans.

“The injury is grievous. It is unlikely the pup will live to see the end of the day,” the knight said in a detached manner. “It would be a kinder mercy to give it a swift death.”

“That is not for you to decide,” you said furiously. You had already paid the knight his silver, but you shoved your whole purse in his face. “Run to the nearest alehouse and buy four legs of chicken. Return here as soon as you can. Quickly now!”

He raised an eyebrow at you, but your resoluteness left no room for debate. After he left, you backed away several paces. The creature needed space, but you still wanted to keep an eye on it. You slowly went down on your knees, lowering yourself gradually to not startle the creature. Its gaze followed you, watching you close should you lunge forward. You slouched as soon as you were able to sit. Hopefully, you were small enough that the creature would know not to fear you.

Its eyes never left you. It cocked its head at an angle, appraising you curiously. You turned your gaze away from its face, watching its paws instead. To meet its eyes would mean you were challenging it as a larger, fiercer predator.

Despite your command, the knight’s absence felt like it lasted an eternity. He was gone long enough that the pup finally lost interest in you and resumed cleaning itself. You let yourself glance at it. It was too cute and strongly resembled the pet dogs you had seen running around town.

Finally, the knight returned with a wooden plate in hand. It was stacked high with chicken legs, freshly cooked and steaming with heat. You gestured for the knight to sit next to you, and he did so with his legs crossed. In your haste, you burned your hand on the hot food. Swearing under your breath, you pulled your sleeve down as far as you could over your fingertips. It was not much use and you were forced to wait.

The pup returned the force of its full attention to you. Its nose twitched as it sniffed furiously, and it tried to stand on all four legs. The endeavor was clearly painful as it rose unsteadily, whimpering all the while. It only managed to wobble in place before it collapsed.

You touched the chicken again. It had cooled off enough that you could rip chunks of meat off. After shredding a decent amount of chicken, you took careful aim, closing one eye to gauge the distance between you and the animal. Your first throw was too long; the pup followed the trajectory of the thrown meat intently, lifting and turning its whole head when the food landed behind it. The next throw was much too accurate as it hit the pup square on the nose. It blinked and yelped again, but its consternation was soon forgotten as it sniffed and ate the offering, eyes wide with happy surprise.

You smiled at your victory. More food was tossed at the animal, and in its eagerness to eat it attempted to leap into the air. As the pup’s delight grew, so did the knight’s disapproval. His lips thinned and a notch between his brow deepened as it often did when he looked at something he disliked.

“You may speak freely, sir knight,” you said without looking at him.

He frowned, the scar on his upper lip pulling into a longer cut. “You are wasting good meat.”

“If you are so worried about the loss of food, you may have some for yourself,” you retorted. “And I would thank you to remember that you did not pay with your own silver.”

“The pup will not survive even with your help.”

“And yet I refuse to withhold my help from those who need it,” you said. His words were maddening, but you needed to focus on shredding another chicken leg. The action helped hide how your hands were shaking with anger. If you were not concerned with scaring the pup you would have rounded on the knight. “Why did you save my mother?”

His expression of surprise mirrored the pup’s, brows raising and good eye widening into a teal lake.

“Surely it would have been a ‘kinder mercy’ to let her die a swift death. And it would have been less trouble on your part to leave her to her own devices.”

“Does your mother know you speak of her this way?”

“I am not speaking of her. I am speaking of you, sir knight— and your inclination or disinclination to offer help,” you shot back at him. “Why did you come to my mother’s aid?”

He regarded you carefully, looking down his long nose at you. But for once his judgment was not turned on you. His eye was curious for your reaction as he spoke thoughtfully, “My motivations were selfish, I admit. Your mother’s carriage and retinue indicated she came from a family of wealth. I hoped to be rewarded upon her rescue.”

“Was escorting an ealdorman’s daughter part of the reward you had in mind?” you could not help yourself from asking.

“No,” he smirked. “But your father’s hospitality and silver are very generous rewards indeed.”

“And there you have it. If we let nature determine our fates then you would have me let the good people— and animals— on my father’s land starve, all for the misfortune of not being born into wealth,” you said firmly. “I would not let that happen while I am still able to offer help.”

“Help in the form of your father’s silver,” he commented dryly. Leaving unspoken his distaste for the privilege you were born into. He had never spoken of it out loud, but hearing of his formerly impoverished lifestyle made you self-conscious at times.

“It is as much part of his responsibilities as it is mine to see to their needs.”

“So you are motivated solely by a sense of duty?”

“Partly,” you admitted. “But perhaps there would be more good in the world if more people felt it was their duty to be kind.”

He stared at you now, an incisive glint in his eye as sharp as the day you first met. You turned away from it, uncomfortable goosebumps rising on your neck. The third chicken leg was ready to be shredded, so you turned your focus on that. Ripping the meat apart with more concentration than was necessary.

Finally, he dropped his gaze to the last of the food. It had cooled off considerably, and he grabbed the last chicken leg. He looked it over before biting into it. It seemed as if he claimed it for himself, but he spat out the morsel and tossed it to the wolf. It yelped in joy as it darted between the food you and the knight threw, too greedy and confused to know which bits to eat first.

“The morsels you are shredding are too large, my lady,” the knight said.

“And yet the animal does not seem to mind,” you smiled at him, grateful for his help.

You were loath to leave the pup behind. Its eyes were watchful as you and the knight departed the field, bare chicken bones left behind on the plate. Your feet followed the path home as if they had a will of their own, such was your concern for the pup that you had little room in your mind for anything else. Worry plagued you for the days to come. The wait seemed an endless infinity until you finally found your next opportunity to return to the meadow.

The pup was still there, having dragged itself to the nearby bushes for shelter. It could not put its full weight on its injured leg which was still in a bad way. There was recognition in its eyes as you made another careful approach. You were able to come a little closer than before. It growled and you stopped, although the sound was more akin to a stomach rumbling than a feral warning. You sent the knight off for more chicken and played the throwing game again when he returned.

Several months passed in this manner. After each visit, the pup allowed you to come closer and closer, closing the distance by paces. Its health seemed to improve; although it did not often attempt to walk, the animal would sit up at attention at your arrival. It did not need to lie down as often and would only do so when it had finished eating. Still staring at you with wide eyes, slow blinking as it fought the temptation to slumber in your presence. Its appetite grew as well. Soon, four chicken legs were not enough to satisfy it, as it would stare at you expectantly once you had given it everything, licking its lips in anticipation of more. The knight did pause when you asked him how much more you should buy.

“We have fed it enough, my lady. Surely we may cease feeding it,” he said. “If it should grow dependent on us then it may not learn to hunt properly.”

“It has not yet died from starvation or thirst,” you pointed out. “Perhaps it has been hunting on its own during our absences.”

“If this pup were a child, we would be indulging its laziness. It would grow into an adult with no ability to work. The aid we have already provided is more than adequate.”

His statement annoyed you, as he so often did when he disagreed with you. But you took satisfaction in his use of the word “we”. He had seemingly come around to your way of thinking even if he never admitted it out loud.

You were about to protest when the pup stood up. It limped forward cautiously. When you first arrived, you and the knight sat a fair distance away, far enough to place a long feasting table in the space between. The pup tried to cross that distance now, weighing heavily on three feet before quickly hopping on the fourth injured leg. Its gait was unsteady but its gaze was focused on you. 

The knight leapt to his feet and took a stance in front of you, putting himself between you and the animal. Clearly intent on protecting you from its approach. You had forbidden him from drawing his sword on the creature, so instead he reached out to grab it by the scruff of its neck. As his hand neared the animal, it looked up, head cocking to the side in curiosity.

Before the knight could react, the pup’s pink tongue darted out, licking the chicken grease off his hand. The animal’s eyes widened, shining with concentration as its tongue thoroughly enveloped each of the knight’s fingers in turn, engrossed in polishing off what little was left of its earlier meal. He froze in place and his stunned reaction allowed the animal to keep licking away with abandon. When it finished, it licked its lips and nose, finally satisfied that the knight’s hand was clean.

All the while, you had to suppress your laughter, clutching your sides as you heaved with silent mirth. The pup shared in your good mood and smiled at the knight, tongue hanging flappy with a great wide smile. It whined sulkily when he remained frozen. Pushing its tiny head into the knight’s palm was not enough to solicit pets, no matter how earnestly it rubbed itself against his hand. Finally, it rolled onto its back, paws flopping charmingly in the air.

The knight stood in confusion. Your giggles subsided enough to tell him, “Do indulge the creature, sir knight. It means you no ill will.”

“What does it want?” he asked, an alarmed tinge to his question.

“Have you ever played with a dog before?”

“No.”

“When a dog shows you its belly, it is a sign of submission. They are showing you their vulnerability as a way of demonstrating their trust in you. I imagine the same applies to wolves,” you added thoughtfully.

He still made no effort to move.

“It’s a show of goodwill, sir knight,” you continued. “You may demonstrate the same by obliging the creature.”

“How?”

“By petting it, of course,” you smiled at him, although with his back to you he had no way of seeing it.

You might as well have asked him to die in battle for you. He was still, no doubt some internal conflict playing out in his mind. It was easy to imagine the knight’s expression of consternation: good eye wide and brows high, his mouth fallen open to reveal the charming little gap in between his two front teeth. The thought almost made you giggle again, so you cleared your throat before stating authoritatively, “Sir knight, I order you to pet the animal. I promise you will enjoy it.”

The order seemed to turn his surprise into exasperation. He let out an almost imperceptible sigh that you noticed only because you were keen to observe what he would do next. The knight obediently sank to his knees, still slow with caution. You craned your neck to watch him place his hand on the animal’s stomach, fingertips first, before smoothing his fingers into its coat, letting his palm rest fully. Then he rubbed slowly, up and down movements ruffling the fur. He did not say anything further but you could tell he was enjoying himself, as he allowed his normally uptight posture to slouch, shoulders lowering in relaxation. Loud and happy panting from the animal filled the air. It was a point of envy that the pup warmed up to the knight first, what with the knight’s reluctance to get involved during the initial encounter. Still, it pleased you to see wonder on his face, the end of his lip twitching upward as if he was fighting the urge to smile.

You were always reluctant to return home after these outings, and for once the knight seemed to share in that unwillingness. He was always the one reminding you that the end of prayers was drawing near. This time, you were the one to let him know it was time to leave. His departure was slow, and as he made to follow behind you he cast one last look over his shoulder. As tempting as it was to tease him for his newfound attachment to the animal, you instead discussed with him how to further aid the pup’s recovery. Now that it readily accepted his touch, perhaps you could administer medical attention. The discussion was cut short when you rejoined your other attendants outside the church.

On your next trip, the knight brought a roll of bandages with him, hidden inside his pockets. Unfortunately, it had been too optimistic to hope that you could help with the pup’s injury so soon. The high-pitched yelps it unleashed when the knight grazed its injured leg were pained, and it once again growled with all the ferocity of a little beast. The knight was quick to withdraw his hands.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sighed. It was hard to watch its suffering and be powerless to help.

“It’s alright, my lady,” the knight said encouragingly. “It will make a full recovery in time. Our aid has guaranteed it.”

You glanced at him. He met your eyes, and his expression spoke of unshakeable confidence. So strange to see this change from his distant indifference to the warm reassurance he was offering you now. The simple acknowledgment of your shared endeavor made you blush and look away. Luckily, the pup had begun licking its leg vigorously and made itself a convenient target for your gaze. You breathed deeply to calm your heart, a sudden anxiety making it jump erratically in your chest.

“What a brave pup to endure such an injury, all alone with no family in the world,” you said wistfully. A thought rested on the tip of your tongue, one that you were suddenly afraid that the knight would object to. But why did his opinion matter to you? As your knight, he would be obedient to your whims no matter how he felt about them. You pushed down your concern and spoke, “If you should go through the world alone, at least you need not be nameless, little one.”

As if it knew you were speaking to it, the pup stopped licking and looked straight at you, staring intensely. You cleared your throat and spoke softly, “You were not born a lion, but you share its courage and its heart. Leo shall be your name.”

The speech was less silly in your head. Now that it had been spoken aloud, it sounded downright ridiculous. What if the pup would not respond to the name? Did the knight think you were too childish or pompous? He did let out a noise of amusement through his nose, not a snort but a low exhale. He was too dignified to snort.

In your embarrassment you wanted to snap at him, but he spoke first. “It is a good name, my lady.”

His validation cheered you. You turned to smile at him, and he returned it with one of his own, both ends of his lips lilting lightly upwards. Not a slanted smirk that showed amusement at your expense. It brought a handsomeness to his face that you never noticed before. A loud, happy bark from Leo drew your knight’s attention, and you were glad for him to look away before he saw how your blush deepened. 

As if receiving a name had spurred its recovery, Leo was able to walk slowly but steadily towards the edge of the meadow, looking to rest under a bush. You and your knight departed in the opposite direction. Today, your sense of revelry was not just in Leo’s improved recovery but also your knight’s first sincere smile at you, although you only discussed the former with him. It saddened you to rejoin your entourage, as it meant the end of your private time with the knight. At least you could look forward to your next outing in the future.

On your way back to your father’s hall, the blacksmith Talis hailed you. You greeted him politely as he approached. It was a warm summer’s day and he was shirtless, gleaming with sweat and smeared with grime. Evidence of a long day’s labor at the forge.

“Milady,” he grinned as he took one of your hands in both of his, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. “Are you and your parents well?”

“We are, thank you,” you said. “I shall let them know you inquired after them. Are you in good health?”

“I am, thank you. Your lady mother’s birthday approaches, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“No, not for several more months.”

“Then I will have her gift ready for her by then,” he beamed at you. “Good day.”

“Good day, Talis.”

If you had remained in the hot forge, you would have sworn that was the reason for your discomfort; being near such blazing heat in the summertime was nigh unbearable. However, as you made your way back into town the distress persisted. What could be the cause? You turned to ask your ladies-in-waiting some idle question, hoping to determine if anyone else felt ill at ease. All seemed well with everyone else— except your knight. All warmth had drained from his being, his posture straightened to the point of near stiffness, a scowl on his lips and a notch between his furrowed brows.

More often than not, your knight’s usual demeanor was less than pleasant. But to see his previously good mood suddenly ruined caused you no small amount of worry. The rest of the day was agonizingly long and you were overly distracted, unable to put your apprehension to rest until you met privately with your knight, in the evening as he escorted you to the staircase leading to your chambers.

“Are you well, sir knight?”

“Why does the blacksmith act so familiar with you?” he asked, ignoring your question.

“Oh—” what a bizarre inquiry. It caught you so off guard, you laughed in puzzlement. “His family has served this town for generations. Talis is friendly with all who employ his services.”

“That is all he is to you? Someone your family employs?”

“Yes,” this conversation was becoming more and more strange—

“You have no interest in him beyond that?”

“No.”

“Would he say the same about you?”

“I don’t see why not. He is married, after all.”

“Is he now?” your knight raised an eyebrow at the information. “It is a strange custom here. Do all married men kiss the hands of women they have no interest in? And offer gifts to their mothers?”

“He seeks to curry favor with the ealdorman’s family, nothing more and nothing less,” you said, more bewildered than ever. To turn the tables on him, you asked teasingly, “And what about yourself, sir knight? You have lived here nearly a year now— have you met anyone of interest yet?”

For a man with a singular eye, the knight’s gaze could become extremely penetrative when he wanted it to be. It paralyzed you. Just as suddenly as it began, the interrogation was over. He bid you goodnight, leaving you to stand on the stairs alone.

The whole conversation was too peculiar to dismiss. You paced your room endlessly, repeatedly brushing your hair and remaking your bed, stopping one activity only to return to the other mindlessly. What was the purpose of the knight’s questions? Why did it feel like he did not believe your answers? Why did that possibility fill you with a sense of defensiveness? You had done nothing wrong— so why did you get the impression that your knight felt otherwise?

You stared at yourself in your mirror and shook your head. You had unintentionally made the knight into your confidante when he insisted on accompanying you on your secret outings. And it was only natural to feel a sense of camaraderie with someone you spent so much private time with. It was a mistake to assume that closeness would grow into friendship. His obligations to you began and ended with your commands and your father’s.

Perhaps he wished for your relationship to remain professional, and nothing more. After all, he had quite the withdrawn manner when he first came into your service. Was his tolerance of you solely based on staying in your father’s good graces? There had been others who sought out your friendship merely to use you as a means to an end, without any interest in forming a genuine bond with you. The knight would not be the first nor the last.

You ought to limit your interactions with him. Just as you resolved to do so, a tiny feeling of sinking disappointment settled in your chest, churning into an unpleasant sourness in the pit of your stomach. Was it so wrong to enjoy the knight’s company?

What if he found no enjoyment in your company? That notion was outrightly painful, a stinging little hurt in your heart. Your hand rose unconsciously to your chest, rubbing in circles to soothe yourself.

Well, he would think it strange if your visits to Leo ceased in such an abrupt manner. You would visit the pup for as long as it accepted your presence. Then you would stop sneaking out altogether, or at least find another way to leave the knight behind entirely.

The air in your room felt cold despite the warmth of the late summer.

───────────────── ●◉◎⚜◎◉● ─────────────────

Was it your imagination or was the knight’s morning greeting to you even icier than usual? He had a habit of speaking only when spoken to, but his answers seemed even more taciturn, opting only to nod, shake his head, or hum in acknowledgment. If you did not know better you would have wondered if he had lost the capacity for words entirely.

At least Leo did not need words to express joy at your arrival. He was waiting at the edge of the meadow for you today and barked, tail wagging excitedly. His acceptance of you had progressed to the point where he allowed you to pet him. The wolf was so jubilant that he raised his forelegs and batted you on your shoulders, almost knocking you off your feet.

Delighted, you leaned in to hug him. How had Leo’s growth escaped your notice? The wolf may have still been a pup, but only in age and not in size. His body exceeded the length of your torso, his head towering above yours when you sat on your knees. Your arms did not meet when they wrapped around him. His fur was no longer soft and thin, but now rough and thick underneath your hands. You laughed as he licked your face, his wet tongue and hot breath on your cheek. What a miraculous development! 

You glanced surreptitiously at the knight. He made no move to separate the two of you. Perhaps he had finally grown to trust that Leo truly meant no harm.

However, the wolf had not quite recovered fully. He had the bad habit of periodically reopening his wound during his sporadic moments of self-grooming. The wound’s severity was never quite as grave as the first day you met. However, the wolf would never heal properly if his self-sabotage was not prevented. Being able to hug Leo safely was a good sign that he would let you bandage him.

When you met the knight’s eyes again, there was understanding on his face. Despite whatever grudge he held against you, it was a relief to know that he would continue his involvement in your plans to help Leo. You wordlessly held out your hand for the roll of bandages just as the knight pulled it out of his pocket. After scratching Leo underneath his chin, you stood up and backed away to give the knight plenty of room.

You had instructed the knight how to restrain a hound, a method that you had learned from your brother. However, today would be the first time that the knight would put this practice into action. You watched with bated breath as the knight knelt next to Leo, patting the wolf’s back. He pressed gently on Leo’s shoulders, encouraging him to lie down. The wolf rested on the ground, staring off into the distance and panting happily, seemingly content just to have the two of you nearby. Then the knight leaned over the wolf, tucking the animal under his arm and grasping its chest with his hand. It was imperative that the knight perform this part, as his strength was greater than yours and would allow him to restrain the animal. Leo was undisturbed and merely licked his lips.

The wound was on Leo’s left hind leg, a sideways cut not dissimilar to the knight’s own scarring. It was a stroke of luck that the injury only spanned the upper half of the wolf’s leg; there would be no need to wrap the entirety of the limb. You adjusted the position of the leg on the ground, highly conscious of the knight’s proximity to you.

His back was broad, long lines sloping into the straight, handsome column of his neck. You were close enough to him that you could have bumped your forehead against his shoulder. The smells of the forest did not overshadow his scent—

Leo boofed in annoyance, his foot kicking out of your grasp. His patience at being manhandled was running out. Hastily, you unrolled the bandages. The wolf whined and squirmed but the knight’s hold was strong, allowing you to wrap the wound tightly. You backed away immediately after you finished and the knight let go as well.

The wolf instantly made to lick his leg only to be confounded when his tongue met bandaging and not skin. He licked and licked and licked, unable to reach his intended target. After a minute or so he became disinterested, turning abruptly to resume staring into the air. 

Victory! You laughed in relief and exhilaration. This had been by far the riskiest endeavor of Leo’s recovery and the pair of you successfully completed it unscathed.

“Thank you,” you told the knight, beaming at him. “You did well to earn Leo’s trust. We could not have accomplished this without it.”

The knight regarded you with an unreadable expression but he nodded. “The same goes for you, my lady. Leo’s recovery is a credit to your compassion and persistence.”

“Nonsense,” you turned away from him, blushing. You scooted forward to scratch Leo behind his ears, studying the pattern of gray and black coloration on his fur. He closed his eyes in enjoyment, mouth hanging open and tongue lolling out happily.

“It’s true, my lady,” he said simply. “Well done.”

The heat of your embarrassment burned away any words you may have used to disagree with him. Why did you choose a dress with such long sleeves and a high neckline today? It was positively oppressive in the summer season. You mumbled your thanks, pointedly staring at a spot on the wolf’s shoulder. You felt more than saw the knight sit down across from you on Leo’s other side.

(When was the last time you visited the medic? You needed to stop by at the first available opportunity. Some strange ailment had befallen you and you needed a cure: a mingling excitement and anxiety in your chest, an excessively rapid heartbeat—)

“There is no one,” the knight said.

“I beg your pardon?” you looked up at him finally. To continue avoiding his gaze when he was conversing with you would be rude.

His eye was serious, and he spoke solemnly, “To answer your previous question: I have not yet met anyone of interest.”

How strange that you felt both thrilled and dismayed by his statement. But you giggled and blurted out, “Perhaps that can be remedied. There are a number of my retainers who wish to become better acquainted with you, sir knight.” You winked at him for emphasis.

“I am aware.” Of course he was. He was too astute to not have noticed.

“And you are drawn to none of them?” you asked, surprised. “They are all good people. You need only choose your favorite— I could make proper introductions if you so wished—”

“I do not,” he said, firmly but not unkindly.

“Truly?”

He nodded. He scratched the wolf under its chin, smiling gently. Leo closed his eyes, lost in bliss.

You could not help but sigh, a heavy heart in your chest. The knight’s eye alighted on you. His examination of you this time was gentle.

 “That is quite a shame,” you said lightheartedly, or you tried to. “There will be many broken hearts among them.”

 He rolled his eye. “If they are good people then they will find love with ease.”

 “I hope so,” you said. “You all may live and love as freely as you please. If only—”

If only you could as well. You had stopped speaking, swallowing hard when a lump in your throat made it too painful to continue. As if he could sense your discomfort, Leo crawled closer to you, resting his head on your leg. His eyes were wide and doleful as he looked up at you.

“Are you betrothed?” the knight asked. His tone was casually curious.

“No,” you said, absentmindedly petting the wolf. “But perhaps it is only a matter of time. My father does intend for me to marry. If I cannot find anyone ‘worthy of our family name’, then he will choose for me.”

Even in your unhappiness, you could not help but smile at the wolf. You scratched him behind his ears, avoiding the knight’s gaze as you spoke, “I am sorry… You must think me a spoiled child… my family has more than enough silver to see me live comfortably to the end of my days, and yet I often find myself feeling caged…”

Tears welled up in your eyes. It took such an effort not to cry that you could not restrain yourself from the outpouring of complaints. “There are moments where I wish to run away when the world is too loud. And it very often becomes loud. After all, I am never allowed a moment alone except to wipe my own ass.”

The knight’s lip twitched upwards, but he continued looking at you with sympathy. “We were meant to choose our own destinies. If someone else chooses for you, then the desire to run away is only natural.”

He turned to look directly at you. His gaze was unwavering but a note of worry crept into his voice. “My lady… I have not been fully truthful with you. I wish to do so now. I cannot stop you from telling your parents, but it is my hope that you will not. You will come to understand why.

“I told you of how my brother and I lived in poverty. That was not always the case,” he said. “As orphaned babes, we were left at the church. They raised and fed us when no one else would… but they asked for too much in return. We were expected to join the clergy, to remain and serve for the rest of our days. I wanted more out of life. I asked my brother to leave with me. He was free to stay, but he chose to join me.

“The church and our community spurned us. As if wanting a life outside of monastery walls was a crime. You already know of how we lived… and my brother grew weary of it. He went back to the church and begged for their ‘forgiveness’. Played lapdog after everything we suffered. They agreed— but only if we returned together.

“I trusted him, and he betrayed me. And yet I was the unreasonable one for not wanting to rejoin the church,” he scowled darkly. 

You gripped a fist in Leo’s fur. Fury at the brother boiling inside you. “Your brother’s treachery cuts quite deeply, sir knight.”

“May you never experience the pain of betrayal, my lady,” he said. “It can break you, or forge you into something greater. But there are other ways to find strength. To become powerful enough to defy your fate. I hope to help you find it.”

What a blessing to witness so many selfless acts from your knight today. Even as he looked to you for reassurance that he had not alienated you, he still reaffirmed his loyalty.

“I am sorry you endured so much hardship, sir knight. May I say again that you deserved none of it. If there is anything I can do to lessen your pain, all you need to do is ask,” you said softly. Would that there were more words you could offer in sympathy. “I will not tell my parents if you do not wish for them to know… after all, neither of us are as devout as they would like.”

Was the joke too poorly timed? You bit your lip for your thoughtlessness. But your knight chuckled and looked at you warmly. Perhaps the worst of his pain had faded.

You dared not voice this, but you were glad for his survival. Not just because your knight deserved to live freely, but also because he somehow ended up on a path that led to you. Instead, to change the topic you asked him, “Are you happy, sir knight? It seems to me that you traded a life in service to the church for a life in service to a mortal.”

“I do not mind. This life is much more preferable. After all, I chose it for myself,” he said. “And you are a much worthier master.”

You smiled at him in thanks, but the hollow flattery of his words did not move you. His earlier compliment might not have been sincere either. It was foolish of you to forget how the knight was only pretending at kindness towards you. This reminder did not hurt any less than the first time you realized it.

It was necessary to remember it always, if only to guard your heart.

And yet you could not stop from finding happiness in the time you spent with the knight. It was too comfortable a companionship that you had yet to find anywhere else. Trusting each other with secrets you dared not share with others. Made all the more exciting by a certain irony: you were not allowed to spend time alone with any man unless you had an escort, and yet the knight seemingly did not count as a man. A loophole that made your paired outings feel more like secret trysts. No one witnessed your transgressions except for the wolf.

Now that he was bandaged, Leo’s recovery became straightforward. You and the knight changed his wrappings every time you visited him, and the wound was more improved each time you checked. No fur grew on the scar, but the skin was no longer tender and Leo no longer flinched when he was touched. You found yourself making excuses to keep attending to the wolf. His leg might still be weak in the muscle and the bandaging provided support. If the knight found your reasoning to be implausible, he did not remark on it.

Autumn passed and winter came, marking close to a whole year since you first met Leo. He had reached his full size and was now exponentially longer and heavier than you. Yet he was as playful with you as ever, clamoring to lie in your lap and disregarding how his weight crushed your legs into the ground.

A sudden change fell over him as you unwrapped his leg. He stared out into the woods, beyond the horizon. Contemplating something that was beyond your perception. The impulse to hug him overwhelmed you, but as you wrapped your arms around him he moved away, stepping out of your grasp. He stalked away easily towards the edge of the meadow where the trees grew thicker in number. It was as if he had never been injured at all.

Leo turned to look at you and the knight. His eyes were the same brilliant white as the snow on the ground. Staring at you with some unrecognizable emotion. Or perhaps he looked at you with no emotion at all. There was no sign of the pup you nursed to health; only a wild beast remained. Perhaps it was his gratitude to you that did not compel him to run away unceremoniously.

You and the knight stared back at Leo. You dared not breathe too loudly, nor run up to the wolf and pet him one last time.

Because there was the unshakeable conviction that this was the last time you would ever see Leo again.

He turned and loped into the woods, soft footfalls lightly crunching the snow underfoot.

And then he was gone forever.

It should have been a joyous occasion. He was never meant to stay with you as if he were a pet, in such close proximity to other humans who may have wished him harm. His full recovery guaranteed his survival as he rejoined the wild, as he was always meant to do.

But the world blurred as tears welled in your eyes. You sniffed and turned away from the knight, not wishing to cry in front of him. Were your parents struck by a similar sense of grief when your brother grew old enough to travel on his own? It was an irrational thought that would not leave you.

You hunched over, hands covering your face. As if that would prevent the knight from noticing your sobs. The notion that he was bound by your orders to never speak of this to anyone provided little consolation in your devastating sorrow.

The knight sat as near to you as possible. His knee almost touched yours. He moved his hand towards you but stopped just shy of touching your shoulder. He clenched it into a fist and kneaded his thigh.

“He will hunt often and well, my lady,” said the knight. “I do hope that might provide you some solace.”

It did, but not enough to stop the tears. It was many moments longer before you could catch your breath and compose yourself. The knight sat next to you the whole time, a quiet source of comfort that could not touch you but nevertheless felt like twin arms wrapping around your heart.