the guard {h.s.}

12- through the fire and flames

Before Harry sees it, he hears it. He hears the shrill scream that could only have come from his princess. The sound isn't one that he has heard from her, directly, before, but there is a part of him that is programmed to know. It isn't a sound of frustration—annoyance at the explosion of both of their tempers. Harry isn't so naïve as to pretend that he hadn't been irrational in the battle of wills, too—but instead a sound of raw terror. It's a sound that Harry knows will haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

Harry had promised the princess one thing: safety. Even this, apparently, was too much for him to deliver.

Gwen's scream is unsettling: it breaks up an unnatural silence that had taken over the wood, shocking a flock of birds into flight. Or, perhaps, as Harry turns on his heel back in the direction of his mother's cottage, it is not so much the sound of the scream, but the thickness of the smoke. Smoke that, Harry can now see, is beginning to rise over the treetops.

The air, Harry also now realizes, is thick with it. The oppressiveness of the smoke binding his lungs, the smell of it coating the air. His eyes widen with the realization. The realization that took him only a second to make, but still a second too long: Gwen is inside.

Later, Harry could reflect on the fact that not once does he think about the fact that this is a release of an oath. Should he turn his back on her, he would be free. Freed from service, presumed killed in the siege, and free from his obligation to the princess. Should he have wanted, he could disappear into the wind right now, following whatever direction the smoke takes him in, far, far away from the licking flames of his mother's cottage.

But, he will not. He will not even reflect on it, because never once would the thought have crossed his mind. Within seconds, he has spun on his heel and begins racing—running unlike he ever has before—back to his mother's cottage, intent on saving the princess if he is able. Rationalizations begin spiraling through his head, moving at a speed faster than he knows to process them.

If Gwen is okay, he will get her the carriage.

If Gwen is okay, he will ensure she doesn't have to walk a blessed step on the journey to Loil.

If Gwen is okay, he will... though, Harry stumbles on this next one. The thought moves from the back of his head to the forefront: If Gwen is okay, he will do anything.

Upon arriving back to the house, Harry didn't know what he expected to see. So preoccupied were his thoughts with Gwen, he didn't necessarily focus on what physically could be happening to the house. Perhaps it's for the best that he didn't: that he didn't think of the way that the flames would simply be engulfing the house. The way that the thatched roof would be caving in on itself, already up in flames. He'd never known how loud fire was. There was a roaring as it consumed everything that he loved; every memory that he had.

Loss cripples him for a moment too long. Another shriek pierces the air, his heart stabbing him inside his chest. It's a reminder that he failed her, something that he never had any intention of doing. Merely a week ago, he wouldn't have felt personally invested in what happened to the princess, but it's funny how quickly things can change. How easily the princess can worm her way into one's heart.

Perhaps it is this notion—the fact that when he looks inward to find the princess that he finds her located there, in his heart—that has him shouldering the door. The pressure from the fire is forcing it upwards, making it difficult for him to beat down. Still, he remains unrelenting in his efforts, putting his entire bodyweight into breaking down the door.

Eventually, it gives. Not even paying mind to the way that his shoulder throbs with the effort, he cups his face into his elbow, blinking rapidly against the smoke that makes his eyes water. Frantically, he searches inside the living room burning around him for the princess. "My lady?" He shouts, his voice only just barely heard over the thundering of the fire around him. Even just the two words make his lungs burn with the effort. "My lady!" He yells louder, uncertain whether the aggressive thumping of his heart is due to the adrenaline or the fear of losing his... Gwen.