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By all accounts, your childhood should not have been as bright as it was. You saw your elder sisters being shaped into courtly ladies and your older brothers being trained into proper princes and heirs. Yet as the last of many, you were just another spare. Perhaps the king had forgotten about you completely; maybe he just didn't care, or maybe he held a special spot for you in his heart. Whatever the case, your days were not filled with needlework and dress fittings. Your fingers weren't bruised from angry teachers beating grace into you. Instead, you got to taste some freedom, to follow your youngest brothers and the king's wards that were barely older than you as they explored the forest and hunted small game. They let you play with their wooden swords and kept an eye on you as you picked flowers while they caught fish in the creek. Even as years passed and the wooden practice swords got replaced with metal ones and their days got more filled with lessons on politics and strategy, they still found their way back to you. They always made time to take you with them for a visit to the creek and reminisce about their carefree days.
Your brothers teased you often; they made jokes about their dirty little sister, barely a princess at all, but your past rang with their laughter and your own, so you joked back and let the golden sunlight paint your memories in a shimmering hue. Day by day, childhood marched by, leaving behind memories even as your brothers got sent off to be raised for a time by other nobles loyal to your family.
The king himself had two wards—twins Knives and Vash from House Saverem. They had been your playmates for as long as you could remember, and even without your brothers present, they still found time to talk to you, to take you out for walks, and to share a dance during the palace's grand events. They were raised almost as your brothers, but there was always a clear distinction between the royals and the nobles; perhaps that's why they got along with you more than with the others. Both boys were brilliant, brought up by the brightest minds, and shaped to be formidable young men, skilled both in swordplay and strategy. The older twin, Knives, was exceptional as a military man. His counsel was taken into account from a young age, and the king kept him close. Vash was equally talented, yet his weapons were words and laughter. He excelled when it came to diplomacy and negotiation. By all accounts, it should have been the older of the two who got sent back to their own castle after the head of their family fell ill, but the chessboard was quietly adjusted. The old king was fond of his advisor and had no intention of letting him go, and Knives did not put up a fight, allowing his younger twin brother to take up the mantle of heir.
The families agreed to the switch, viewing Knives as the more ambitious one, the strategic one. Everyone was sure that he would reach for greatness as the king's future right-hand man. Everyone assumed that his prize would come as gold and glory. But little did they know that Knives's eye got drawn to a different prize. One that was far more valuable in his mind. His game only began while his brother got out of the running.
One by one, the king moved his pawns; he found the future queen for his eldest son, a crown prince for his eldest daughter, rich nobles for his other children, and secured alliances with neighboring kingdoms. He played his game until just a few pieces were left unmoved. With each step forward, the king's shadow grew bigger, and his power invited challenge, yet every unrest was quickly quelled. If secrets and deals were not enough, then it was Knives who made sure that fear would keep everyone in line. Each bite grew the king's hunger, and soon he looked beyond his borders, thirsting for even more power. His armies marched forward, and with the Silver General by his side, he conquered fertile land and expanded his empire with ruthless efficiency.
Perhaps it was the pale blonde hair that caught the eye from across the battlefield, or maybe it was the polished plate mail glinting in the sun, but Knives earned the name Silver General in war with honor. His skill with a blade was like none other, filling the hearts of his opponents with despair. Rumors even spoke of his blue eyes turning red under the helmet, like a hound of Hell. But one thing was for certain—no one was a match for him on the battlefield.
Despite his brutal reputation and the cold look on his face, he always came to you with flowers in hand. He was the last friend you had left in the castle, the last face you remembered smiling from your childhood. He always came to you as Knives, the boy who volunteered his stick sword to you, not as the right-hand man of the king who wore expensive robes bejeweled with sapphires and threads that shone like moonlight. You never met him as the Silver General, whose mention would turn the blood of brave men into ice water. He always came as the same kind man you knew him as. The same man you had shared so many laughs with. Every time he returned to the castle, he came to visit you. He took you on long walks by the river and made sure your embrace was filled with exquisite blooms.
"Come here, my boy," the king called for Knives one day after he returned from his visit to your wing of the castle. The old man was in high spirits, with no hint of formality in his tone.
"Yes, my liege?" Knives approached, a slight bow following his words.
"I have raised you as my own flesh and blood. Time and again you have proven your worth, and I am proud, yes, proud, of the man you have become." The king's heavy hand landed on Knives's shoulder as he spoke. "So it is my heart’s wish to call you “son” in truth. What say you? Take the hand of one of my daughters in wedlock, and be bound to this house as kin!"
"You still have a daughter unpromised to another," Knives commented, a picture of you painting itself in his mind. "Is it her hand you offer?"
"No! By no means!" The king almost laughed. "It is true, she is like no other, but she is not suited to stand beside the king’s right hand. For a warrior of your renown, a hero of many battles, I offer you the hand of my second-born."
"Is the noble lady not already promised to a wealthy lord of the North?"
"And to whom shall they raise their grievance? The king?" The old man bellowed a laugh.
"What of… her, then?" Knives wondered, not as amused as the man beside him.
"You mean the youngest? Fret not, I have laid a plan for her path. She has always had her boyish ways, never one for books or learning, and the maids often whispered that she was born to stir mischief. She shall suit the Eastern Kingdom well; their youngest son remains unwed, and she shall make a fitting bride for him, wild spirit and all."
"The Eastern Kingdom, you say? The very one whose farmlands now lie beneath our banner? Is it truly wise, my liege, to send one such as her into their midst? She was not raised in the ways of courtly grace, nor tempered for diplomacy. The peace between our realms hangs by a thread, slender and frayed, and I daresay, their hearts hold little warmth for us."
"But of course, you have the right of it," the king responded with a carefree tone, "and yet, therein lies the very magic of the plan. They shall either take her and, with her, bind a fragile peace through marriage… Or they shall return her head to us in a box of pine and give us righteous cause to claim the rest of their wretched lands. Either path leads to our gain. This is why I saw fit to make… a few spares."
The king's casual remarks made Knives's stomach turn, especially since he knew who you really were, and very little of it overlapped with the image the old man had of you. He knew you would do more than anyone else to uphold your kingdom's honor. You would never disobey; you would never put up a fight. How could you?
"Brilliant, my king. So it shall be." Knives gave another bow to the man next to him.
"Good to hear! I shall see to the arrangements right away, and before long, you shall be as a true son to me!"
Council meetings and arrangements crawled by, messengers were sent back and forth, carrying terms of negotiation, and then, almost out of nowhere, came the day when the foreign envoy arrived. Knives had continued his visits to you for all this time. The two old friends walked along the creek bank, flowers in hand. He never heard you complain. You never uttered a single word about the situation you found yourself in. He knew you wouldn't, but still, a part of him hoped that you would. Even the slightest hint of defiance or disappointment would have been a relief, something to justify what he was about to do. But you remained silent, resigned to your fate.
As he left you on the doorstep of your room, a polite nod to a friend was all he mustered at that moment. His path led him to the king once more. The hallways stretched for longer, and the bodies blocking his path were more numerous than before. He found the old king talking to the head priest, his demeanor happy and joyous, as if he weren't about to send his youngest daughter to a snakepit filled with venomous people who harbored no goodwill towards his kingdom.
"Your Majesty," Knives began, "I humbly request that you send me to accompany the princess on her journey. Let me, the Silver General, be the shadow at her side and the sword that gleams before her foes. Let those who fancy us a weak and yielding realm tremble at our might. Take this opportunity to give them a display of power. No accident shall befall her whilst I am with her."
"Is it not excessive to send my own right hand? Surely a handful of the King’s Guard would suffice," the old king argued back, surprised by the request.
"I do not doubt it, should our aim be to ignite yet another war. But as the realm stands now, we are ill-fitted to seize the whole of their land. Last year’s harvest was lean, and the fields still await the ripening of grain. To march too soon would be to gamble with the bellies of our folk and the strength of our banners. Hear me when I say that those barbarians would sooner put their own fields to flame than see them fall into our hands. The wedding is set for summer’s end. Grant me leave, my liege, to serve as your eyes and ears 'til that day. I shall walk their halls cloaked in courtesy, gather the whispers behind silk curtains, and measure their strength beneath their smiles. By the time the wedding bells ring through their stone halls, we shall be prepared, not merely to survive, but to conquer. Your kingdom shall flourish, and when the hour is ripe, our blade shall fall swift and sure."
"I would far rather have you here, at my own side, your counsel, your strength, and your unwavering loyalty. Let the fools out there scheme and scurry as they will; their plotting weighs but little in the balance when I have you beside me." The king shook his head.
"I shall go alone. No knights, no banners, no fanfare. None are needed. They are our greatest foe, and their eyes are ever upon us. No other would dare lift a blade against us, not while I draw breath. And should unrest stir its head within our own walls, know this: I shall return with haste, and I shall crush it beneath my heel, swift and without mercy." Knives continued his negotiations, playing on the king's desire to seem formidable and for his shadow to seem bigger than it truly is.
"So be it, then. Guard my daughter well. The scoundrels of the East are cunning, and their smiles often hide poison. The Silver General shall ride alone among the fools. The convoy shall be theirs. And remember this: I expect your return before the leaves turn and the harvest moon rises, for your place is here, by my side, with a ring upon your hand and a bride at your side." The old man finally relents, bored of the conversation.
The bells that rang sounded like a mockery. They were meant to celebrate the beginning of a lasting peace. The people gathered at the castle gates, waiting to catch a glimpse of their last princess getting sent off to a foreign land. Inside, the tone was just as ridiculous. Trumpeters played a fanfare while flower petals got scattered on the ground. The king spoke tender words to his youngest child, praising your beauty and grace. He was generous with his endearment and used so many ways to tell the whole hall just how much he adored his little girl. All words you had never heard from his mouth. The foreigners watched silently as you were paraded and pampered for the very last time, but when the time came to hand you over to the envoy, no king's guards stepped out of their tight line. Instead, the Silver General, in full armor and his face hidden by the helmet, marched to your side, gave a single bow to the king, and didn't even turn to look at you.
People cheered as their last princess got packed away into a gilded carriage and sent away to the neighboring kingdom, and you looked out of the small window with a forced smile as you left behind everything you had ever known, including your handmaidens and ladies-in-waiting, your room, and your home, knowing that you may never return. The only one who knew you was your friend, except you weren't sure if he came with you or not, as the Silver General did not speak words of encouragement to you, nor did you see his face to confirm that the hint of a smile he had for you was there. He just rode along with your carriage, an imposing armored figure atop the giant stallion. You knew very little about what was waiting for you; nobody deemed it necessary to fill you in, but it mattered not, for a princess, even a spare one, has just one duty—to serve.
As your castle slowly disappeared behind forests and hills, the demeanor of the envoy changed. There were no polite smiles for you; no knights stood guard. They threw you glances of disgust, and when the convoy stopped for a break, nobody talked to you or asked if you needed something, as if you were beneath them. It was just the Silver General who came to you. His bows were deep and humble, his voice clear and tender. His very presence forced the maids to bring you food and water; they suddenly remembered to take care of you, but from the corner of their eyes, they watched the stranger in their midst.
You didn't notice much in the carriage as it made its way through your kingdom; only occasionally did you hear Knives's voice from outside, but you could never tell what he spoke of. The road felt lonely; the only time you weren't too sharply aware of your situation was during the nights, when camp was set up. You were always suspiciously away from the others, yet you didn't feel the danger, as each night, through the canvas of the shelter, you heard Knives talking to you.
"M'Lady, how are you feeling?" He would speak quietly, the muffle of his helmet gone.
"I am alright," you would reply, not wanting to complain about the insignificant details of the day. "How are you? It must be difficult to sit upon your steed from dawn till dusk, clad in that heavy harness of steel. Are you sore?"
"My princess, trouble not your gentle heart on my account. I am here to guard and serve you, come what discomfort may. Do you have everything you need? Do the servants tend to you with the honor and grace your station deserves?"
"I have everything I need," you would reply each night, kneeling by the far corner of your tent, where you would hear his voice the loudest. "Pray, tell me, what sights met your eyes this day?"
"There were rivers that sang as they flowed, villages nestled in valleys, forests deep and whispering, and cliffsides that rose like ancient sentinels towards the sky." Knives always described to you the path you took and the sights you didn't get to see from your carriage. But he always left half unsaid, be it the envoy's suspicious behavior or how he wanted to compare the sunset sky to the way you looked, framed by the intricate windows he could see you through during the day. He didn't speak of the secrets he kept hidden in his heart or words the outsiders ought never to learn.
Knives would spend time each evening by your tent, just talking to you. He would keep watch each night, and by morning, he was gone, replaced by the Silver General whose helmet hid his eyes and the curve of his lips.
The road was long, but with the fearsome presence of your guard, nothing happened to you. The journey was quiet; very rarely did you hear unfamiliar voices. So it was all the more jarring when, instead of the usual fanfares, your carriage was greeted by a riot of people screaming and shouting while throwing things at your entourage. As you tried to peek out of the window, the Silver General's body blocked your view, his shield put up on his side to block anything that might harm you. The cursing only got louder as the chaos continued. Their words mostly remained a mystery, but you did hear accusations, as if you were the one to have stolen their sons and husbands, as if you took their lands. As if you were the one responsible for all their suffering.
As you came to a halt in front of the palace steps, dread made your legs feel heavy. Fear curled your shaking fingers into fists, but you knew you had no choice but to smile through the pain and face your fate. Nobody came to open the door for a long moment. No ladies to adjust your appearance or offer you comfort. While you gathered your courage and inched closer to the edge of the bench, a shadow blocked out the sun pouring in through the small window in the carriage door before it was opened. The general stood at the entrance, his head bowed, and his hand reached towards you, offering you support. You took his hand and stepped out from the stuffy air into the early summer day, but the idyllic scene was quickly shattered by the filth that landed by your feet.
"Come quickly, M'Lady," Knives's voice said with a hint of urgency, as his sword hand let go of yours to take the end of his cape and pull it up to hide you from the onlookers, his shield in the other hand, blocking the onslaught as he ushered you through the street and up the palace staircase, where no guard made an effort to protect you.
The footman waited by the giant doors, leading you straight through the hallways to the throne room that was filled with soldiers and nobles whose voices did not halt as you entered. Even as you were introduced by a slew of titles, the room remained filled with noise. The nobles talked to each other with mocking tones; the king on the throne looked away, more interested in the intricacies of the enormous stained glass windows than your arrival. The only pair of eyes that looked at you belonged to a young man. He was older than you, but from what you knew, he was the younger prince. He was the one to whom you were betrothed. His gaze didn't betray his thoughts. There was no happiness or anticipation in his dead stare, but no loathing or hatred either. The nod of his head was minor as he acknowledged your greeting; his lips did not harbor the chuckle that reverberated in the room. Never before did you feel so alone, even with the presence of your old friend right behind you, but the whispers that reached your ears remind you that he, too, is far behind enemy lines. He was the Silver General, the beast who showed no mercy.
And so a new life began, the freedom of the past replaced by duty. Your room was far away from others, decorated with minor luxuries. The servants came by rarely, their faces making it obvious what they thought of you. But you never said anything. Not when you had to fix your own hair or when you struggled to tie your corset. You held your head high and walked through the palace with dignity. The Silver General was always by your side, the clink of his armor echoing in the halls. He never spoke unless you asked him something, but even then he avoided saying more than necessary. He never took off his helmet, and you never got to see the blue eyes that would remind you of home.
Knives was the only guard to ever keep watch by your door at night. He would stand there after the sun set and the last of the servants had left the hall. Your guard was always with you, day or night; tirelessly he would watch over you.
"My princess," he would ask through the door, his voice clear, undisturbed by the helmet he always seemed to wear, "Do you have everything you need?"
"I have everything I need," you would reply, side pressed against the wood of the door.
"And what of the manner in which you are treated? It is unkind and unworthy of you."
"The food bears no poison, and the chamber is kept in comfort. I am content and ask for nothing more." The silence that followed stretched on as if there were books' worth of words left unsaid. "And what of you? In this kingdom, you are as despised as I am, perhaps more so. Wouldn't you want to leave? Wouldn't you rather return home, to where your name is not a curse upon the tongue?"
"I am bound by duty, my princess. Never could I forsake my post nor turn from your side. So long as breath remains within me, here shall I stand." Knives's voice sounded louder, as if spoken into the crack of the door.
"Until I am wed, then, is that not the end of it?" You asked, leaning your head against the door, but you didn't get an answer.
The fresh lilacs wilted with the arrival of the midsummer heat, and the air grew thick with the sweet, honeyed smell of the lavish garden that sprawled just outside the palace, within the massive castle grounds. One morning, an unusual entourage of maids and servants carrying heavy chests with them arrived in your chamber.
"The prince desires to take you on an outing," one of the servants spoke as she bowed deeply.
It was the first time the prince showed interest in you. So far you had only seen him once, on the day that you arrived, and this was not an invitation you could possibly refuse. The servants left, and the maids started to take care of you like they hadn't done before. They dressed you in the finest silk gown and adorned you with jewels and gold. A net made of pearls was placed delicately on your head, complimenting the intricate and foreign way your hair had been pinned up. With powder and rouge, they painted you into someone you did not recognize in the mirror. They made you into their version of a perfect princess, at least when it came to your looks, since there was nothing they could do about who you were.
One of the maids led you out of your chambers to where the prince was waiting. The Silver General stood as a sentry by your door, wordlessly coming to follow you, barely a step behind. Your betrothed waited for you in a large hall. Every window was pushed open to let in a wild breeze that played with the curtains. The scent of roses filled the air as he turned to look at you, his eyes just as dead as the last time he looked at you.
"Princess, you are a vision most radiant," he said with a slight smile that didn't bleed into any of his other features. "Would you grant me the honor of your company upon a small excursion? I would show you our fair capital, for the view from your chamber’s window does it no justice. The carriage stands ready, awaiting but your word."
"Your Highness, are you certain this is safe?" The Silver General spoke up before any other words were said.
"Yes, perfectly so," the prince answered stiffly. "If the good general is concerned, he may remain within the safety of the castle walls."
"My place is ever at the princess’s side, Your Highness," the armored figure reminded him firmly.
"Then we better find you a steed," the prince replied reluctantly and called over a servant to make the arrangements.
The prince chatted politely to you; there was no hint of disdain towards you or your kingdom. He talked about history and philosophy. You could almost forget there was tension at all. He led you to an inner portion of the palace, a tunnel with high ceilings, closed off from the rest of the capital by intricate iron fences. There, a royal carriage awaited next to a number of guards adorned with the king's crest. An extra horse stood there too, clearly meant for the Silver General.
"One of these days I will bring you to my castle, where we shall live after the wedding," the prince said as the horses pulling your carriage took off. "It is a fair distance away, set far from the bustle of the capital. Secluded, serene… a place where peace dwells, and the noise of the court is but a distant echo."
"I should like that well, indeed," you assured, being polite and obedient, slowly starting to imagine the life that was awaiting you. It was hard to picture the man beside you loving anything, let alone you. It was even harder to imagine harboring feelings of tenderness for the dead-eyed prince who had been arranged to be your future husband. Love had nothing to do with it; it was a matter of duty. But duty was still a hard pill to swallow, even if it meant the freedom and life of so many people.
The city was beautiful; it had never seen war. The pristine churches with their gilded spires and elaborate stained glass windows stood tall over the capital. The markets bustled with foreign trade, and no beggars were in sight. Yet as the people's gazes turned to the carriage and the soldiers keeping guard, a sense of unease began to spread throughout the streets. Sometimes wares were thrown towards your window or at the Silver General, who rode his horse right by your side. He didn't show that it bothered him, instead just shielding you from anything that could hurt or sully you. The prince ignored the unrest, his eyes focused on something in the distance, not even looking towards you.
As the prince paraded through the city with the entourage, more and more people flocked to the streets. Carts were left in the way of the horses, blocking the road and slowing down the pace. Rotting food was thrown out of windows, adding to the chaos and mess. The beautiful capital reeked with people's hatred towards you and the Silver General.
The carriage came to a halt in the middle of a bustling street. The heavy footsteps of the armored knights of the King's Guard hit the cobblestone ground while they took in their positions. The row of the people didn't die down in the slightest, and the prince had to raise his voice slightly to be heard:
"I have some business to attend to. My apologies, I will make it brief."
The door opened, and before you could react, the prince turned away from you. He exited the carriage gracefully, the guards to his sides as he greeted the people who seemed to part and make way for him. The door closed again, obscuring your view of the leaving man. You leaned forward to look out your own window, and there you saw the general's imposing figure, his face hidden by his helmet, and nothing about him allowed you to guess at his thoughts. From the corner of your window, you saw one of the king's men, a long lance in his hand.
Everything felt so loud and busy. The noise from outside poured into your little space and seemed to refuse to leave. You felt the occasional thud reverberate through the wood as something got thrown at the side past the guards. You convinced yourself that you imagined it all getting worse. You wanted to hope that it was just in your head, the threat, the danger. But the truth became impossible to deny as loud and commanding shouts echoed over the people's voices and you heard the King's Guard react.
"The prince!" They echoed before their heavy footsteps started to hurry. You saw them part the crowd with their lances and shields. As they left, the crowd crept closer, taking over the part no longer guarded. Their fingers hooked to the intricate decorations of the carriage, they shook it, making the horses in front whinny in distress. The angry mob started to rock the carriage. The view from your window got obscured by the chaos as the Silver General tried to get the crowd in line. All the while, screams of anger and pain filled the air as blood spilled on the cobblestone street.
You pulled away from the windows, wrapping your arms around yourself, fingers digging into the supple flesh. You heard thuds above you as someone conquered the top of the carriage. It felt heavy and oppressive, like you were left helpless. As the commotion grew louder, you could feel your heart racing in fear. The realization that you were trapped inside the carriage with no way out began to sink in, sending a shiver down your spine.
"M'Lady!" you heard Knives's familiar voice cut through the chaos. You turned to look out the side window closest to you. "Cover your face!"
You followed his instructions, pulling away from the window and ducking down in your seat. Glass shattered and covered the inside of the carriage with shimmering shards. As you looked back, you saw him leaning towards you while still on his horse. He cleared the window's edge of sharp glass with his gloved hand before reaching it towards you.
"Come, my princess, we must leave!" His muffled voice bellowed with worry from underneath his helmet.
Without hesitation, you grabbed on. With him, there was nothing to be afraid of. Your trust in him was unwavering, even as he helped you climb out of the carriage window and leap towards him. He caught you and pulled you closer, seating you in front of him on the horse.
"Hold fast!" He commanded, grabbing the reins of the horse with one hand; his other held up his shield to cover you. You clung tightly to him as the horse pushed through the crowd. The Silver General plowed forward without mercy, hurrying towards the castle's gates, but people kept blocking his way. He dodged into more empty streets, galloping through them in hopes of reaching a different entrance to the palace, yet even those seemed locked. The luck only turned when he found an entrance towards the back, meant for servants and supplies. Once the horse stopped, you looked up, seeing the giant garden sprawl around you.
"My princess, are you unharmed?" The general asked, drawing your attention to him.
"I am." Yet your sentence got cut short as you noticed the state of your savior. The infamous Silver General, who was renowned for fighting armies without getting a scratch on him, had blood trickling down his polished armor. As he shifted, you noticed two feathery ends of arrows sticking out from his back, somewhere near the arm that held up his shield.
"You are hurt!"
"Princess, trouble not your heart on my account." The general talked more calmly than before, with no hint of pain or fear in his tone.
He reluctantly let you slide down the horse and hurry towards the well not far from you. Knives got down, too, following you as you rushed off.
"Come, Princess, let's get you inside, where it is safe. There I can stand guard over you."
"No. You are wounded."
"Princess, to protect you is my oath and honor."
"And if they should come upon us, what could you do, wounded as you are?"
"Princess, I would give my life for yours."
You stopped by the well, turning to look at the bloodied man who approached you. There seemed to be nobody else in the garden. You heard fountains hidden by the hedges and birds singing love songs. But there was nobody else.
"Very well," you said while looking at him approach, "I shall go inside, but only if you can catch me! Prove to me that you can in your state, and I will obey!"
You picked up the silks of your dress and hurried off, disappearing between the carefully sculpted hedges. You heard him calling for you as he followed, the clink of his armor getting more urgent. You kept some distance between you, having him follow the train of your dress.
"Who, pray tell, are you going to protect like that?" You would mock him as he fell behind.
You followed the sounds of water until you found yourself deep in the garden; the trees and vines became more wild, the rose bushes weren't as pruned, and moss had taken over where grass wouldn't grow. The maze of hedges opened to a valley canopied by large, low-hanging willows. The scenery was dotted with old cast-iron furniture and a pond covered in water lilies. In the distance, a gazebo stood, its white paint flaking off from neglect. The sound of flowing water came from a fountain that sat among the bushes, just a face spouting fresh water into a basin below. You waited beside it as the armored figure finally caught up.
"Come now, tend to your wounds," you said gently. "Nobody shall find us in this hidden place."
"M’Lady, your eyes were never meant to behold a sight as gruesome as this."
"Since we were but children, I have tended to your wounds; this is no different."
"My princess, we are no longer children, and this is no mere scrape."
His foot dragged over the ground, catching behind the buried stepping stones, as tiredness crept near. His armored hand grabbed hold of the rickety cast-iron table under the old willow tree while he hunched over.
"You are tired," you remarked, walking over to push your shoulder under his heavy arm and force him to sit down on the chair.
"This behavior is unbecoming of me," he said, and you heard the heavy heaving breath.
"Do you serve me?" You asked him with command.
"Yes, my princess, I do and shall serve you till my final breath," he assured, the helmet's face tilting up.
"Then be still, and rest."
You pulled a silken handkerchief from your dress and went to wet it in the fountain. By the time you returned, Knives had pulled the arrows from his side, where they pushed through the gaps of his plate mail. Wordlessly you came to him and pushed the cold silk into the bleeding wounds. Carefully you started to undo the pieces protecting his shoulder, noting the intricate engravings in the metal.
"I have heard the whispers," you said as your fingers traced along the buds on the metalwork, "of how these were carved so that the silver blossoms would drink deep of your enemy’s blood and come to life with it. Yet now, having seen them with my own eyes, I also know that they bloom no less when it is your own."
The drips of blood had collected into the fine grooves, painting the lines red as his blood pooled in them. He looked away, not answering you, his fist clenching around the metal edge of the table. Silently you undid some clasps and pried the shoulder guard off.
"Why do you hide your face from me?" You asked, grasping the real reason for his reluctance. Your old friend had been hidden away from you all this time.
"I know not of that which you speak." The general replied, not looking at you.
"Then allow me to take it," you said quietly, placing a hand on his metal cheek to turn him to face you. The armor hid his eyes and any expression he might have been making. He didn't move as you slowly and carefully removed the helmet, yet your eyes stayed on the visor. As you stepped back, you lifted it up, still watching the reflections play on the dirtied metal as you turned away.
"Silver General," you spoke to the helmet, "Why are you here? What fate has befallen my friend? It has been far too long. At times, I think I hear his voice upon the wind, but search as I might, I cannot find his smile anywhere."
Knives watched as you looked up at the empty metal helmet as if waiting for a response. You turned and seemed to almost dance with it, not sparing a single look for him. He watched as you brought it down, touching your forehead to the dirtied steel. He watched the long pause stretch out over the secret garden, a lengthy silence that ended with your lips pressing against the piece of gear that had hidden his face from you for so long.
You lowered the helmet, holding it with just one hand as your arms fell loosely to your sides, the piece of armor slipping from your fingers as you looked over to Knives, who watched you wide-eyed, his face depicting every emotion all at once. You saw the tenderness in his gaze, the gentle hint of a smile dancing in the corners of his mouth.
"At last… there you are," you whispered and walked closer again, stopping in front of his hunched-over figure to reach out for his wound again, but he grabbed your hand and pushed himself upward till he stood. One hand still held on to yours, while the other reached up to remove the net of pearls from your hair. His crude hand broke the delicate necklace the maids put on you, the style of the jewelry so unfamiliar to you, nothing at all like your homeland.
Knives's chin lowered to his chest, and he slowly fell to one knee. He let go of your hand, only to pull out his sword and lay it across his knee, the blade resting on the palms of his hands as he looked up again. His sweaty, pale blonde hair was pushed back the same way you remembered from a long time ago when you were still just playing.
"M’Lady, my princess, my heart’s delight, hear me now. My sword is yours, and yours alone. It does not serve your father, though he be my king. It guards not your homeland, nor does it heed the laws of this kingdom. Your word is my sole command. My blade shall be the hand that brings your will to pass; my shield, a wall against all harm that dares draw near you. I exist to guard you, to cherish you, and to fight in your name. From this day unto my last breath, I am yours. I cast aside all oaths that would stand in the path of this vow. I belong to you and you alone."
His eyes shone with determination, his earnestness written across his face, as he had no means of hiding the desperate longing in his heart. You let your fingers touch the hardened metal that gleamed back at you. As Knives rose up, the blade pressed against your palm before he put it away.
"My princess, I beg of you, speak and tell me true, do you have everything you need?" Knives asked, his eyes pleading.
"I have everything I need," you responded, hands reaching up to touch his face.
"Here, your life hangs by a thread. Do you not long to flee this place?" He reminded you.
"We are bound by duty."
"My princess," he whispered, leaning into your touch.
"I want for naught," you repeated, pulling closer to kiss his eyelids.
"M’Lady, pray, tell me, what is your heart’s desire?" Knives's voice was so quiet, yet filled with desperation as he leaned closer, his blue eyes fluttering open.
And there were two old friends, looking at each other with longing in their hearts. Two old friends reunited in a hidden garden in the heart of an enemy nation. Two friends who had nobody but each other. Not a knight, but a young man who got hurt training with a practice sword. Not a princess, but a girl whose hair got tousled by the branches she carelessly ran through.
His face leaned near, his eyes like bottomless wells. Knives's forehead nearly touched yours, but he tilted his head, his lips brushing with a feather-light touch the side of your face. Your arms wrapped around his body, your ear resting against his metal chest. His gloved hand reached for the back of your head, fingers tangling into the mess of hair. He held you tightly in his embrace, cheek pressed to the top of your head. The stickiness of his blood beneath your skin is what reminded you of his injuries. The indulgent break was replaced by painful reality.
You led him to the fountain and sat him down on the basin's edge. Carefully you undid his armor. Layer by layer you took it off until all that was left was the bloodsoaked cotton shirt he was wearing underneath.
"M'Lady…" Knives began to protest, but you just shook your head as you removed the garment to inspect his injuries. With care you washed them using the fresh water from the fountain until it took on a reddish hue. You pulled strips of your own ruined silk gown to dress his wounds. It almost seemed like no time had passed at all. Almost as if neither of you had grown up. If you closed your eyes, you could almost pretend that you were at the creek again. Playing and laughing in the warm summer sun. You sat beside him, resting your head on the uninjured shoulder, but there was no sun in this overgrown part of the garden. It was only Knives's hand that brushed your cheek.
It became a routine. You would leave the castle in which you were either despised or invisible, and together with your loyal guard, you would go to the garden, citing the need for a change of scenery. Nobody questioned it; they rarely paid you any mind. Even the incident in the capital was buried in silence, the one time you did see the prince, he looked completely unharmed and in no distress. The dark recesses of the secret garden became your refuge. A place where you could relinquish your titles and, even just briefly, become merely the spare who could play outside with your father's wards. In the shelter of the overgrown hedges and willow trees, your friend would return to you. He would leave the Silver General's polished helmet on the rickety table, and you could see Knives's brilliant blues again. He would bow to you, kiss the back of your hand, and ask you if you required anything from him.
"You look tired," you had said the first time. "Come, let us sit beneath the willow’s gentle veil and draw a quiet breath of peace."
He never refused your wishes. He would sit down beside you, he would express concern, or he would just listen to you talk. The tiredness in his features would become more obvious as the minutes crept by. He always fought it like a foreign army, but even he could not guard you day and night without it coming at a cost. Eventually you convinced him to rest his head on your lap as he laid on the mossy ground. His hand would rest on the pommel of his sword while yours stroked his hair.
Day after day you returned to your secret Eden, where the usually voluptuous and cared-for blooms would be more pale and leggy. The feeble plants were craving sunlight as you spent your time beneath them. Midsummer passed with the ripening of fruits, and the time spent in the garden almost made up for the fear of your approaching wedding day, when your time with your old friend would end. But he had become more; his lingering caresses made your soul flower. Like vines, you had entangled into each other's longing.
"M'Lady," he said softly one afternoon on the shore of the overgrown pond as he gently grasped both your hands, "I beg you, my princess, speak to me your heart’s true wish. I live but to see your desires made flesh. Keep not your wishes sealed in silence, nor hidden deep within the guarded chambers of your soul. Grant me the honor of setting you free from the weight you bear. My sword and shield are yours until my final breath, sworn not to crown nor country, but to you. I am but a hound at your feet, ever watchful, ever willing. Command me, and it shall be done. Only, I ask you not to stay silent, M’Lady. Let your voice be heard, and I shall answer with all that I am."
"We are both here by duty’s call, a general and a princess, each cast in our part for the sake of our people. I would not be the chain that binds your hands nor the shadow that brings you dishonor. On the morrow, when the bells toll through this kingdom that will become mine, you shall be free. Free to return to the life you have forged with sweat and dignity. For you are the shield of the people we both hold dear. You have given me more than I ever dared to ask. And so, it should be I who asks you, how might I repay you for your unwavering devotion, for the kindness you have shown me, time and time again?"
"Your happiness, my princess, is the only reward I shall ever seek," Knives answered, almost weakly, yet his hands squeezed yours.
"Then I shall smile—until the very end. And in that smile, let it be known: I was truly happy, for you were at my side," you whispered, your words practically disappearing into the song of the fountain.
One last evening was spent in the secret garden, but it was not like the rest. The air was heavy with unspoken wishes. The willow wept its dry leaves with every gust of wind, while the roses Knives had picked for you felt heavier in your lap. What should have been a goodbye between friends turned into entangled fingers and grief for futures that would never unfold. You knew that this would be your last time in this garden so filled with your secrets. It was tempting to leave a few more. Yet by sundown, you simply watched as Knives took the helmet and hid his tender eyes behind the visor, your guardian, the Silver General, taking his place to escort you back to your chambers, the look in his eyes haunting you long after it disappeared from sight.
The morning of your wedding day did not arrive with dawn but with the horde of maids that pushed their way into your room to begin the preparations. Their hands were rough as they washed you, as they dried your skin and lathered you in lotions and oils. Their brushes pulled your hair, and their sharp voices spoke in a language you hadn't learned. The scents in the room were overpowering, making you feel dizzy and disoriented, but the busy maids wouldn't give you a moment's rest while they painted on a new face and decorated you with jewels. It felt like déjà vu; everything felt like the time before, except for the hatred that seemed even more apparent in their eyes.
As the heavy silks were draped on your body and the corset strung tight, it was time to leave and face the future laid out in front of you. Some knights from the King's Guard appeared by your door when the preparations were finished. As you left the room, you were careful to sculpt a smile onto your face, the one you promised Knives to wear. You did not see his face as your gaze brushed over the polished armor that concealed his expression. Four of the king's men walked in front of you, their broad, armored shoulders blocking your view as they led the way. The rest of them took in their positions behind you, leaving the Silver General at the very back.
Knives watched as your smile got hidden by the armor of someone else. They positioned themselves as your guards, excluding him, making it known that his role as your protector was over. The woman his soul had longed for ever since you played together at the creek was about to be married off to another man. His heart ached with jealousy and regret as voices and music seeped into the hallway from outside the castle; whole orchestras played in the distance while the bells announced the passing of another hour. Time had slipped from his fingers, and he was left to just watch.
You were taken through hallways that led through the back of the castle; you didn't pass any of the giant windows facing the courtyard where the wedding was to be held in front of witnesses of both noble blood and commoners. The path was not new but unexpected, yet it took you to the tunnels that led out of the castle. There were more people here. Servants and some nobles—the look they gave you seemed strange, less hateful than you were used to; they seemed to be almost amused. The bodies lining the tunnels made it even harder to see anything. Even Knives had disappeared from view.
The knights stopped near the exit of the gate, and a servant woman appeared, pressing a bouquet into your hands. She leaned closer, a smile splitting her face.
"What a joyful day this is," she whispered, her voice heavy with some sort of emotion that you couldn't quite place.
Knives's hands had curled into fists to keep himself from reaching for his sword in a place like this. People kept bumping into him or cutting him off. They mingled and got in his way until your entourage almost disappeared from his view. He felt his patience wearing thin as he pushed forward with determination. He almost made it when you stopped for a brief moment, but before he could reach you again, the knights moved forward. He watched as you walked through the gates, the bright sunlight bathing you in its brilliance. The knights who walked behind you had stopped, waiting by the barriers and suddenly blocking Knives's way with crossed spears as two men closed the gates behind you. Before Knives could begin to argue and demand to be let through, he saw what awaited you at the end of the aisle, and he drew his weapon.
"Princess!" He bellowed, but his voice was just one among many.
You expected it to be different. You expected there to be more time. Lengthy pauses and waiting for the right moments, but you were already ushered down the aisle. It all seemed strange. The masses were kept behind fences made of rope and soldiers, the fearsome figures standing guard to either side of the narrow pathway. A long and ornate carpet lined the cobblestone courtyard for you. Suddenly the four knights in front of you stepped to the sides, parting and allowing you to finally see what awaited you. There weren't elaborate flower arches; there was no stand for the priest. Instead of wedding decorations, there towered the gallows, two nooses hanging from its beam.
As the realization slowly dawned on you, the air got stale in your lungs. Looking down, you saw the bouquet in your hands, made up of the wilted roses Knives had plucked for you in the secret garden. Dread froze you in place. For the first time, you stood truly alone in the enemy nation, the eyes of the people burning on your soul as their grins finally made sense.
"For the grievous crimes of adultery, treason, and conspiracy against the Crown, the dishonored princess is hereby condemned to death." A voice cut through the murmurs of the public. "And her accomplice, the traitorous Silver General, branded a war criminal and slayer of men, shall walk beside her to the gallows, that they may meet their end together in disgrace."
You saw the messenger roll up his parchment and leave with a bow. Immediately you turned around to search for Knives, and you saw blood splattered across the cobblestone through the iron gates before the king's knights collapsed to the ground, the servants pulling away from their task of locking the entryway as Knives kicked the barriers open. More knights rushed towards him as he braced for their attack. Metal clashed with metal as Knives cut through the simple soldiers with ease, yet their sheer number left him vulnerable.
You screamed his name as you lunged forward, trying to get to him, yet the king's guards surrounding you grabbed hold, twisting your arms to keep you in place, but it didn't stop you from fighting back, to at least try and reach the man who battles a kingdom just to get to you. As your voice threatened to break, you still shouted for him, but you were dragged backwards, towards the noose addressed to you.
"Princess!" He screamed as his helmet got knocked from his head, his eyes overflowing with fear and worry as they looked for you, yet sparing nothing except loathing for his opponents. His messy light blonde hair turned red on one side where a cut had pierced the skin of his temple.
Knives pushed his way forward, cutting through his opponents with no mercy in sight. He shoved away those whom he could, just so he could close the gap. Chaos ensued as the bystanders started to push to get away from the clashing swords and blood splatter. The one-man army stood tall, determined to emerge victorious, determined to get to you. Two of the king's guard left you behind, marching towards Knives, while the others dragged you with them.
"Behold this pitiful spectacle," a voice cackled from behind you. Your groom approached the guards, a shimmer of joy in his usually dead eyes. "Let this scene be seared into memory, let all remember! The foreign princess, brought to ruin, paying the price for making a mockery of our people and our Crown!"
Tears streamed down your face as you struggled against the men holding you; still you kicked and screamed, yearning into the arms of the man who promised you his whole being. A hand grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, cutting off the voice from your throat. The prince's familiar face looked down upon you, cold metal pressing against your throat.
"I wonder, what is it about those lips… Do they taste of cherry wine, rich and forbidden? Are the lies they whisper sweeter than all others? Should I dare draw near… and find out for myself?" His voice got lower, speaking just to you, "It was ever fated—’til death do us part. Yet what remains to be taken from a fruit already turned to rot?"
"Unhand her!" Knives shouted, voice low as a growl, while he pulled his sword from the chest of his opponent. "Unhand her at once!"
"Strike him down!" The prince chuckled darkly, "Archers! Be done with it!"
A rain of arrows descended from the castle walls. The arrows pierced through the air, aiming for Knives with deadly precision. He raised his shield while pushing forward, blocking many, but not all, some of them digging themselves into his armor. A scream of protest rolled over your lips as you managed to twist out of the prince's grasp but remained restrained by the guards to either side of you.
Knives's pale eyes met yours as he lowered his shield, ready to strike one of the guards charging at him, but his gaze slipped from yours, down your chest to your belly, where the white silks of your wedding gown started to stain with blood. His tired yet ruthless sword crashed down in a deadly arc on his opponent, only to get caught by their shield, stalling Knives into place, unable to reach you unless he cuts down his foe. His eyes remained locked on you, fighting his enemy blind.
His voice shouted your name with desperation as the blade got pulled from your guts and pressed against your neck again. There was no more hesitation in the air, just the maddened laugh of the man who was supposed to become yours, yet all you saw was Knives. You saw your name on his lips even if you couldn't hear it over the shouts. His eyes looked for yours alone, but time had slipped from your hands like petals from a rose. All you could do was keep the promise you made and smile while the sword sliced your throat, a fountain of blood spraying out and staining the ground, splattering on the abandoned bouquet of roses.
Who would have thought that a singular smile could do what thousands of swords never managed? The heart of the Silver General, pierced and dead. The rage of disbelief added weight to his blows, crushing plate mail and bones alike. He rammed his whole body weight into the enemy's shield, making them stagger back before he finished them with a final strike. His increased brutality seemed to shake the men who held on to your body, their hands letting go to grab their weapons. The prince shoved your limp body forward to hide behind the two guards, and Knives caught you in his arms before you hit the ground, layers upon layers of bloody silks settling around you as he held you close, sword at the ready.
His burning eyes remained on his enemy while Knives nuzzled the side of his face into your hair, his hot and heavy breath moving the strands that had come loose in the struggle. All the air he pulled in to speak escaped him again. His lips trembled with a plea, but his voice failed him as tears threatened to turn him mute.
"Please," he finally whispered against your skin, "I beg of you… speak! Say something, anything, that I might know that you are still with me."
The silence crushed his soul, the surroundings fell away, the screams turned to high-pitched whistling in his ears, and all he could see was the prince who stole his world. Carefully, he kneeled down and placed you on the blood-soaked carpet, his every move as gentle as if you were made out of glass. His duty was not yet done.
All he saw was red: the way the front of your dress got soaked and the way your blood splattered on the ground. That is all he saw as he charged in to uphold his promises. It was all too late; he couldn't protect you, he failed you in his duty, and he broke his word to you and to himself. Was it air that his sword sliced through? Was it metal, meat, or bone? He couldn't tell, and it didn't matter. He fought, looking for justice, looking for revenge. His blade was guided by rage and sorrow. Everything he longed for, everything he had ever wanted, was suddenly taken from him. Their blood was too cheap of a payment for the flowers that bloomed on his armor with yours, nothing but an insignificant drop in a bottomless well. He knew that only their complete annihilation might satisfy his thirst for justice, but not even he could take on a whole kingdom by himself.
The crown in his hand felt heavy, the one he ripped from the severed head of the grinning prince. He stood there, in the middle of the courtyard, in complete silence. Was it that the world felt so distant to him now? Or did every single soul hold their breath? The knights who lined the aisle stood farther away, protecting the nobles behind them. Their swords remained drawn, shields firmly held in front of them, ready to battle, yet their eyes kept roaming over the bodies of the king's guards and the prince. Their bloodied remains scattered about by a singular, monstrous man. Knives lifted the crown up with the hand that used to keep his shield. The intricate metal gleamed in the sunlight as he held it over his head as if about to declare himself the new ruler. Everything seemed frozen in time for a long moment before the headpiece clattered over the cobblestone ground, spilling dark teardrop gems.
Knives's head was tilted backwards, the sun shining down on his bloody cheeks as he faced the heavens. His chest rose and fell as he gasped for air from exhaustion and grief. His tears washed paths through the layer of red while he stood all alone in the mute world. The colors were stolen; there were no more pink roses to pick for you, no more of the sweet smell of lilacs that announces the arrival of summer, and no more lullabies sung by flowing water. There was nothing left.
The enemy nation stood and watched as the feared Silver General turned around without a second look, his sword pointed towards the ground. It was not the stance of a battle-hardened warrior frequently compared to a demon; it was not a stance of someone charging into another fight, but it wasn't a position of defeat either. He looked like a man who found a new path, a new realization. He walked over to your body with grim purpose and kneeled down beside you while gathering you into his arms; the red flowers wept on his chest with your life. He laid his sword over your chest, placing one of your hands on the pommel and covering it with his own.
"All that I have ever done was but to be near you." Knives whispered over trembling lips so not a living soul could hear him. "Every choice I made, every battle I waged, it was all for but one hope: that one day, I might call you mine. I built my life around you; you were the only paradise my heart desired. Each oath I swore, and each I shattered, I did so only to hold you close, to feel your breath, your warmth, within my arms. And now that you are gone… all is hollow. For you were the only thing worth fighting for."
The image of you swam with tears in front of his eyes even as the droplets rolled down his cheeks and dripped from his chin, landing on your dress. They just disappeared, not even leaving a salty ring in the mess that was your wedding gown. Knives squeezed your hand tightly around the handle of his sword to lift it up, positioning the tip between the pieces of his armor.
"If I cannot have you in life, then perchance, just perchance, I may find you in death, my princess! Or the life after that."
His eyes softened, a hint of hope replacing the grief, as he thrust his sword into his own chest, still holding your hand. He hugged you tighter, pulling you closer as his life poured out of him. Knives shut his eyes, resting his forehead on yours, the hilt of the sword pressed between your bodies.
A hush befell the kingdom. A grief so sickly and stubborn that it filled the hearts of the people like a spell for decades to come. Nobody could tell what it was, if it came from the demise of the young prince, or perhaps it was your deaths that stained the paved courtyard with the blood of unlived lives, of hopes and dreams that would never be. Your blood had seeped into the cracks between the stones, a testament to the tragedy that had unfolded. No matter how many times the servants came to clean it, the stain remained, if not in blood, then in the red flowers that would bloom in its place each morning like rubies.