A Devotion That Devours

The high tower was nearly on its way to collapse, although one would think that fighting a fire-breathing dragon would have ensured its complete demolition by now. In mid-air, Sir Randsell swung his sword at the indigo beast, and in one fell swoop, sliced at its jugular. The dragon screeched the whole way down, dislodging the gravel in great waves upon contact. With tears in her eyes, Queen Eleanor rushed to the armed knight in shining armor.

"Why did you kill my dragon?" she asked sternly.

Sir Randsell blinked. Answering her question at the moment, while trying to control his labored panting, would not be easy. "To... save... you... your highness," he wheezed.

This wasn't the reception Sir Randsell had wished to obtain, for despite the perilous circumstances surrounding them, he had hoped that the queen would be delighted to see him once again. 'Aha, my helmet obscures my features,' Sir Randsell thought to himself. 'She doesn't recognize the love of her youth before her."

Sir Randsell lowered himself on one knee and removed the bucket over his head. "As is the duty of Sir Randsell of Werningrad. Your highness."

Queen Eleanor recognized the knight and addressed him by his childhood nickname. "Oh, Andy!" she cried, throwing her arms around the knight's neck. "My dragon really meant no harm. She was my friend and protector from all the ruffians who had wandered in. I'm sad that she's gone but glad that I've found another friend in her wake!"

Sir Randsell ignored the stab in his heart that comes with being called a friend by someone he's loved since he was nine years old. It wasn't fair of King Baltazar to hand over then-Princess Eleanor to King Sebastian as a bride when she was only fifteen, but Sir Randsell knew he couldn't ask for her hand in marriage anyway. Sir Randsell, though a knight, was not of noble or royal birth, and he couldn't ask Eleanor to renounce her title as Queen, even though for the past ten years, he wished that she would.

How great it must be to die than to remain living as a friend to the person you love. Sir Randsell's eyes wandered over to the dead dragon and imagined himself meeting a similar lonely and gruesome end.

"How did you befriend a dragon?" Sir Randsell asked once the grave cloud over his head had cleared.

Queen Eleanor smiled. "Astrid's a gift from the gods. After the king and I had been taken and put into separate caravans, she rescued me from my kidnappers." Then her face fell swiftly. "Have you any idea where Sebastian might be?"

Sir Randsell shook his head. "No, but a group of soldiers have been dispatched in search of him."

"And you? You traveled alone in search of me?" she asked.

"I have a fast horse."

Viktor was a noble steed and could travel as fast with one rider as with two riders. With Queen Eleanor sitting in front of him, Sir Randsell directed Viktor back to Ennead City, whence they came three days ago. Yet, at a fork in the road, Viktor stopped abruptly, pawing in place and angling his head to the left.

"This way, Viktor," said Sir Randsell, pulling the horse's reins to the right.

Queen Eleanor laughed. "I think he'd respond better if you called him by his real name."

"And what might that be?" asked the knight, surprised but glad for the conversation. He had begun to worry that the queen had been upset by something he can't remember doing or saying, because she had gone mute over the last three hours.

"He said his name is Thespian," she answered gingerly. "And there's a shortcut to the left."

Sir Randsell furrowed his brows at this implied telepathy between woman and beast. "With all due respect, your highness, but I've been down that path and there is no shortcut."

Queen Eleanor cocked her head to the side. "If not a shortcut, then what is down that path?"

"A dead end, your majesty," he said.

Suddenly, the wind gave way to the sound of agonizing screams. The multitude of anguished voices echoed through the trees, spooking Thespian to rear on his hind legs. The horse neighed frightfully as Sir Randsell and Queen Eleanor toppled to the ground, and by the time the screaming had ceased, Thespian had disappeared down the path to the left. Queen Eleanor scrambled to her feet to chase after him, but Sir Randsell blocked her.

"Out of the way, Andy! We must recover Thespian!" the queen cried.

"It isn't safe for you to venture there," cautioned the knight. "I'll go."

"No, we will go together!" she protested, and marched around Sir Randsell.

Night was drawing in swiftly as the two walked anxiously towards the sound of Thespian's whinnying. Sir Randsell, however, heard two sounds - that of the horse and his own rapid heartbeat. Never had he spent more than an hour with his darling Eleanor, to whom he used to call Nora, and with each passing hour, he felt his love for her grow exponentially. At least that was the major catalyst for the thumping of his heart. The minor catalyst was a secret he wanted to take to his grave.

"Nora," said Sir Randsell when a third sound came on. It was becoming too dark to see, but he knew snivels when he heard it. "Don't cry. I'm here. I always will be."

"Then give me some kind of token, so that I may remember you by your unwavering devotion," said the queen.

"Is there another way to remember me by?" he asked, but Queen Eleanor gave no answer.

Sir Randsell detached a string necklace from around his neck and handed it to the woman he loves. If a stranger happened to examine the amateur piece of jewelry, he would say that the pendant was trash, an insignificant bottle cap punctured once for the string to pass. Fortunately, in the hands of Queen Eleanor, the bottle cap was a symbol of their friendship. Recalling that day fifteen years ago, when she gifted the object to Sir Randsell as a joke, brought fresh tears to her eyes.

Sir Randsell closed the distance between himself and the queen, and kissed her softly on the mouth.

"Oh, Andy," Queen Eleanor whimpered. "This is wrong."

"If all I had ever done in my life was wrong, then I would gladly do it all over again if it meant I would be able to kiss you," he said, and kissed her again.

This is when the queen drew Sir Randsell's sword and sliced his jugular. Choking on his own blood, the knight dropped to his knees and fell backwards on the abdomen of a slain soldier. Beside the corpse lay other bodies, soldiers of Ennead City, recognizable only by their coat of arms. In the faint moonlight, Queen Eleanor recognized one of the dead bodies by his face and that was King Sebastian, her husband.

The queen wept bitterly until Thespian cantered back to her. Blessed with the gift to communicate with animals, she had learned all that transpired on this path from the horse, which was that Sir Randsell murdered King Sebastian in a fit of covetous rage and then murdered the witnesses, the group of soldiers he had come with in search of her. The queen climbed upon Thespian's back to resume her journey back to Ennead City, alone, the way she perceives she will be ruling from now on.

With a broken heart, Queen Eleanor takes one last look at King Sebastian and Sir Randsell. It shatters at the thought of how awful it will be to live when the person she loves is dead.