Damsel in Distress

Freedom

My father was a bit of a drinker.

It's how I got my bruises. And, theoretically, my self-induced scars. Although I tried hard not to think about them.

Now I always have fun coming up with creative stories to explain the bruises to myself after he beat me up, moved away from just trip-and-fall long ago. I could say it's because of the King, but hey, but the reality is no fun. I prefer to think of myself as a captured rebel who honorably stood her ground instead of a scumbag bastard of the King. Would you believe I'm the bastard daughter of a king? King Robert, to be exact, though anyone who knew of my true lineage never lived to tell the tale. The king made sure of it. 

Princesses are supposed to be delicate, fragile damsels. I never was. What hurts worse is the insecurity. The internal brokenness that only a person exposed to abuse can experience. I shook my head as I ran my fingers over several silver lines that ran up my arms. I walked from the window that gave me a view of the kingdom over to the mirror were a small bag laid beside a dagger on the table.

I looked around my cage. It was a nicely furnished room with anything and everything a princess should have, but I wasn't allowed to leave. At least, that was the king's orders. After twenty-four years, tonight I would flout his rules, and he wouldn't be able to stop me. I had a plan. My tutor (and only friend) warned me it was risky, but I had to take my chances.

I packed a light bag and studied the dagger given to me as a gift years ago. It had a plain pure silver handle with a ruby-encrusted pommel. If I cut my hair short, I could disguise myself as a guard, running errands for the scholar.

"I can do this," I whispered to myself. 

I took the blade to my hair and winced as the strands in my hand came free easily. Staring in the mirror, my eyes widened as I saw the transformation. It was a minor change, but it made a drastic difference. Dressed in men's clothing, I looked like a young lad. I inhaled sharply as I heard the door open, but exhaled in relief as my tutor walked into the room.

"Quickly, Selene! Put these on." He deposited the heavy armor of a guardsman on my bed. The mattress groaned beneath the weight, and I wondered if my slight frame would fare any better. I bobbed a curtsey in appreciation, however. "And don't do that," Lucian warned.

"Oh, sorry," I murmured, taking the armor to my private washroom.

Once the door was closed, I let a quiet sob burst free. Nothing inside me mourned what I was leaving behind. I was finally getting out of this place. I would be free! Never to be my father's target again. I already had a new name to be used on the outside.

Duncan.

"Duncan," I tested the sound of it and smiled.

"Selene, are you almost done in there? We have a very short window of time. Your parents may return at any moment!" Lucian hissed through the door.

I hurriedly strapped on the breastplate and donned my helm. "Done, Lucian," I said as I slipped from the washroom. We locked eyes. A giddy shiver ran through me. Fear colored his irises and perhaps mine, too. Yet, I could taste freedom on my lips, and my body rejoiced at the sweetness.

"I can't prepare you any more than I already have, dear one. Now, Little Bird, you need a weapon to look the part. Here... This was my father's," Lucian stated. His voice hitched with emotion. I fondled the sword he handed me, realizing there would be no more wooden sticks. "It will do you well, my friend."

"I promise to honor you and your family and to treasure this sword every day of my life..." I hugged him tightly as a few tears escaped my eyes. Thank you Lucian, for being my light in this dark cage, I thought as my voice left me.

"I know you will. Now we must get you out of this wing swiftly. We will use the servants' exit. Don't worry. A few friends have agreed to help free you, little bird. May the stars guide your path and keep you warm and safe in these trying times." He rested a hand on my shoulder and gently ushered me from the room.

I grimaced as the armor pinched me awkwardly. The weight exceeded what I was used to, but I managed. I had to. This was the only way to freedom. "How long till we are at the stables?" I asked lowly after a winding journey through the keep.

"Not too far," Lucian whispered. "We will soon descend into the servants' quarters. Oh! There is Murielle, the cook!" He smiled widely, as we hurried toward a woman waiting near what I assumed was the kitchen. Murielle was backlit by a rosy fire, and wisps of smoke laden with the succulent smell of roast spilled around her. She dried her hands on an apron.

I was scared as we approached. I had never been outside the castle walls, and my world had never been larger than the view from my window. Meals were taken in my room. Exercise and entertainment were taken there, as well. Like the golden-haired Rapunzel from my fairytales, I had been locked away in my tower for decades.

Therefore, underscoring my nervousness, I was curious and elated to meet someone new.

Murielle looked me up and down, a sour look on her face as she whispered, "I wish we hadn't dressed you like a boy, but I am glad we can be of some help to get you out of here!" Her expression brightened to an effusive smile.

I beamed in return. "Thank you, Murielle. I wish you and your family the best of luck."

"Oh, I wish you the best of luck, dearie. Too many years I watched what that man did to..." Murielle clamped her lips shut and shook her head. "Let's just say the world owes you some luck."

After a moment of silence, the cook led us through the busy, crowded kitchen. No one seemed to notice us passing, as everyone seemed engaged in a task that required their fervent attention. I stole glances at the scullery maids whispering near the pantry. They caught me looking and hurriedly ducked their heads.

"Lucian?" Guard-captain Malcolm bellowed from the door. "What are you doing down here in the kitchen? Shouldn't you be in with the Princess? King Robert reports she has been sorely lacking in manners recently. Hate for him to find you shirking your duties."

The three of us froze. Lucian turned around slowly. "I am... getting more reading material for the Princess. I will return to the schoolroom as soon as my errand boy, here, has been apprised of the books I require. He will go in my stead." Lucian patted my shoulder.

I stared at the ground, fearful of lifting my head and drawing the Guard-captain's attention. He would know at a glance that I wasn't one of his men.

Malcolm barked a laugh as he clasped Lucian's forearm in a tight handshake. "Should've known you weren't off your routine. Could set a watch by you, sure could. Alright, I assume you already have a horse ready for him?"

"Yes, I was just handing him off to Murielle, as this was the quickest route to the stables." Lucian hugged me tight, and I felt him slip me a heavy pouch of gold. "Thank you, my dear boy. And good luck."

If Malcolm thought the goodbye came with more emotion than warranted, he said nothing of it. I couldn't keep tears from my eyes as I hugged my tutor back. "I'll be back as quick as I can," I lied.

I knew the rest of the plan. Along the route to the bookstore, I was to dispose of this set of guard's armor in a sketchy part of the market. I had to make it seem as if I were robbed and left for dead. Lucian had given me enough gold to buy a new life. This was the last time I would see him as Selene. After I left these walls, Princess Selene would die and Duncan would ride free.