#clairdre

The man's grip on my arms tightened, and the stench of him burned my nose. He was stronger than I could ever hope to be. And I couldn’t reach her.

I sent pictures to her mind. Flowers blooming in the spring. A fox caring for its cub. I showed her how her hair shines in the sunlight. The glow of her face when she’s laughing. I couldn’t tell her I love her… But maybe she would understand.

Tears shone in her eyes, and I raged against my captor. Still I could not break free.

“Let her go,” she commanded. Her voice strong and unyielding. He did not listen.

“You know I can’t do that,” a voice called from across the room. “She’s a criminal. She’s plotted against me… This entire kingdom. You don’t honestly believe she actually cares for you, do you?”

“Take me instead… I can—I can help you. Just let her go.”

The king stepped forward into my line of sight, a wicked grin laced his features. “The seer… Offering herself to me? All for what… the pathetic life of this girl?”

The room was silent now as he made the last few steps towards her. And I couldn’t make a sound. I couldn’t tell her to stop this. I couldn’t tell her that I wasn’t worth it. I couldn’t tell her to leave me and be free. I couldn’t stop this.

Once the king reached her, he took her head in his hands. That same cruel wicked grin plastered on his face.

I glance to her, my eyes briefly catching the way her hair is caught in the wind. So unlike how she normally wears it; perfectly kept tied back in a bun. Now it flies wild and free. Like a flame.

“I’m to guard you,” I tell her, keeping my tone even. Proper. “To keep watch, Priestess.”

“Couldn’t you guard me better from my side?” She questions, cutting her step short to face me. A challenge. “What if someone were to sneak up close? And before you could get to me it was already too late?”

“If that were to happen then I am an incompetent guard, my lady.”

She laughed. And it was a beautiful thing how her smile lit up her cheeks. “Just come walk with me, Maia. If someone wanted to kill me, I’d know.”

She held out her hand. A question. An offer.

One I wasn’t allowed to accept. But who, out here, would know?

Keep your distance! It’s not proper, I told myself as I strode forward, taking the few steps to reach her. My warnings of little use as she grasped my hand.

“Good,” she said, turning back to the path. “Now tell me about yourself, Maia. You’ve guarded me for months and yet I know nothing about you.”

You’re not the only, I stop myself before I say it. “What’s to tell, my lady?” I ask instead, keeping the bitterness out of my tone.

I know nothing of my past. Of who I am. It was stolen from me.

“Well, your family? Where are you from?”

“They’re dead,” I tell her without hope for a better answer. For if I am here… whether they’re truly dead or not.. they might as well be. “I know not where I’m from.” A bit of truth. An offering for my soul. As the lies pain me deeply. Even more, the lies to her.

“Hmm.” She frowns. “You don’t remember anything do you? They took it all from you, Rissa?”

My brow knits itself together. “Rissa?”

She shakes her head, her frown deepening before she smiles up at me. “It’s nothing. I’m just being strange…”

I would swear she was saddened. The air between us thick with turmoil. A question. One that it would seem would go unanswered, for now.

“...Well what do they have you do? When you’re not guarding me?”

“I study with the acolytes. Though they don’t teach me magic.”

She nods. “They wouldn’t… unless you’re gifted,” she says with a toss of her shoulder. “Surprising they let you train with them at all. What’s your weapon of choice?”

“Sword.”

“Have you ever used a staff?”

“I… have,” I answer, wary of the newfound glint in her eye. If I didn’t know better I’d say she was being mischievous, plotting something.

“We should spar,” she smiles, true unlike the one before, “Sometime. If you’re up to it.”

I almost stop dead in the path, instead I trip over my own feet at the suggestion. Prim, proper perfectly kept Deirdre in a fighting arena. The Priestess doing much more than sitting in her library or meditating is something I can barely imagine. Much less with a staff grasped between her hands.

She laughs again, and I’m left to wonder how she can be the same person. So vastly different from the woman I usually guard, but then also just the same. “Are you alright?” she questions.

Deirdre: No, go to sleep.

Claire: Who delivers the mailman’s mail?

Deirdre: I love you and all, but please go to sleep.

Claire: ...

Deirdre: ...

Claire: If a kid is bad, and wants coal, what does Santa do?

Clarissa: After me.

Deirdre: