#medieval plot

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A revered knight of the realm is caught aiding the city during a riot in the streets due to a rising in the price of bread. Having been a knight for many years, and having fought in many battles, they can handle themselves. When the riot is beginning to die down, everyone fighting off the members of the city are beginning to grow weary, even the knight, A stray rioter takes this as their chance to strike the knight, wanting to settle an old score, but a commoner manages to strike down the attacker before any harm can come to the knight. Thankful to the person for their aid in keeping them safe, the knight starts to offer a reward, but seeing how tattered their clothes and hollow their frame they take them under their wing to grow and prosper into a proper fighter and partner in the realm.

    Diana stared blankly at her reflection. Her quarters were large, too large, and utterly decked from ceiling to floor with the finest tapestries and other such nonsense. It was disgustingly lovely - and it was all for her. She never wanted this. Deep down she knew it was selfish. It was selfish of her to reject her namesake and internally refuse the throne. It was selfish of her to detest her warm bed and loyal handmaidens. It was selfish of her to find herself lost in thoughts of her homeland, when she knew she must consider this her homeland. It was selfish of her to loath the face staring back at her. But worst of all, it was selfish of her to want more than this life. To want more than the latest in her kingdom’s styles and gossip and prestigious affairs. Diana watched dully as one of her young handmaidens stepped beside her and began styling her long, dark hair into one of the esteemed hairstyles.     “No,” she nearly whispered, placing her hand softly on the arm of the young servant girl, “I like it this way.” She wrapped a strand of her hair around one of her fingers before letting it fall down her shoulder.     “Please, my lady. The king would pleased if you looked presentable in court,” The handmaiden’s voice was meek and humble. She was only doing what she was told, Diana knew. Yet somehow it seemed all wrong to her.     “And since when do I care about what pleases the king? Or any man for that matter?” she heard herself snap, before quickly biting her tongue. Her handmaiden looked aghast. She had forgotten her place...she couldn’t say such things. “I’m sorry, dear,” she softened her tone and sighed deeply, “I only mean that I know what the king likes, and he is perfectly content with my decisions. My hair is of little matter here, darling; yet, I appreciate your concern.”     Diana stood and made her way to her door, “I’m going for a stroll. If I’m needed, come find me, please. Don’t send my guards.” Diana exited her quarters and rounded the corner of the grand hallway. The clicking of her supposedly ‘proper’ heels hindered her desire to remain quiet. She hoped with her dearest hope that she would remain unbothered and undetected.