My Wounded Knight

Sir Larence and Princess Aliyana

"Princess..." My knight struggles to his knee, clutching his arm to stop the bleeding. I can hardly stand the sight. The man who has always protected me, and made me feel safe and comfortable, is now wounded and vulnerable. 

Before I speak, I hear footsteps climbing the tower steps. Our hiding spot will soon be compromised.

I kneel next to him. My hand reaches for his sword as my lips curl into a defiant smirk, contradictory to the soft image I portray to everyone: everyone but him.

"Larence," I say with a rising rage, a storm brewing that won't be calmed. "Lend me your blade." His attackers have hurt and dishonored him, and I refused to let it slide.

"Princess..." He meets the fire in my eyes with his own, and he already knows he won't convince me to leave his side. "Ali..." He drops the formalities, and even amidst the pounding of my heart, I can tell his resigned smile makes it skip a beat. He relents with a sigh. "Just... don't get hurt, Ali."

"Don't die, and you have a deal."

I hear those footsteps again, closer than before. I position myself between Larence and the door, taking a stance I've seen many times before. My feet shoulder-width apart, my shoulders tense, anxious but ready to confront whoever walks through the door.

I have never wielded a sword, but having watched Larence for years, and studied his every move he made when he trained, I allow the memories to guide my body. To mimic my skilled fighter...

To protect my wounded knight...

My protector...

My love...