Eros and Cats Labyrinth

Meph – Steel Blue
General – purple
King Andrew – Blue
Timothy/Mouse - Magenta
Kitchen Staff – Pale Violet Red
Captain – Medium Orchid
Princess Catherine- Spring Green
Marcus Norwish- Gold
The Queen- Green
Hannah- Dark Orchid
Jeffery - Aqua

The trumpets sounded a victory solute for King Andrew! The last of the defending soldiers either lay dying or retreated from the prevailing Knights that fought under the flag of the Crowned Lion. The men let out a triumphant yell as they watched the defeated run away. The real Knights, I say real Knights, for there was one among them that bore no noble blood, all the real knights headed back to the tents to clean up and start the celebrations. The one who lacked the pedigree to join in the celebrations remained on the battlefield where he had been when the trumpet had sounded. The trumpet was their General’s way of telling them to stop fighting, as he stayed safely behind the line of catapults and archers.

As the warrior stood there, his arms too weak to hold up his weapons any longer, he surveyed the battlefield. There were bodies everywhere, littered about the landscape in different stages of death or dying. He listened to the moans of the ones too far gone to pull themselves to safety and the death rattles of the ones that expired in the quiet of the, now, still night. While he stood still in the carnage he prayed. He prayed for the dead to go to their peaceful rests. He sang a low, mournful Viking song to the Gods of old who could usher the souls of the fallen warriors the gates of Valhalla. Not all believed in such things but secretly he did, and he would only express himself in this manner at the end of the battle, when the other soldiers had gone back to camp. His song concluded as he heard a horse approaching. His head turned and his body coiled as he turned to face the sound of hooves.

“Meph!” It was the gruff voice of the General as he made a pass over the battlefield now that it was safe for him. Meph’s body relaxed in relief for lifting his arms was not something he was going to be able to successfully do for a while. “Why must you always stand around after the battle when you know the hardest part of the night is upon us?” He didn’t actually expect a response from Meph. The man barely spoke but took orders like a champion. “I have news for you. Come to my tent after you take care of everything and get cleaned up.” The General then rode off towards the camp, leaving Meph in the ground that was quickly turning to bloody mud beneath his feet. Meph’s stormy violet eyes watched the man ride off and took another moment to look around before he headed back to camp himself.

Meph had been the first-born son to an extremely poor couple that lived on the edge of a great kingdom, or so he was told. He hadn’t been born like other babies though. Other babies that had been born in the kingdom were chubby and screaming balls of joy. Meph had come out of his mother’s womb fair hair and skin, but heavily scarred. Scarred in a way a grown man would be at the end of a hard life. Yet this child was minutes old and bore the signs of torture. Fearing their child to be a demon, they tried to kill him off by starving him, but the little beast wouldn’t die. He didn’t even scream like a normal baby. And he was very strong. His mother, giving in at night, let the devil child suckle at her breast while her husband slept. Even though she feared him, she still felt the bond they had formed in her belly. She could close her eyes and she knew his infant’s touch. When he was five, his parents, not wanting to continue to be associated with the devil child, sold him off to the palace to serve under a knight as a squire. It was his parent’s hope that their child would meet an early death to rid the world of him before he grew into his potential for evil. Meph was taken by the knights and the parents were gifted land in return, hoisting them to a Lord and Lady status in the kingdom. While their five-year-old child remained a peasant in the eyes of the knights.

Meph was a diligent and successful squire to one of the oldest and cruelest knights. But Meph was never afraid of him and learned from him. Eventually, after years of the harshest treatment, the elderly knight looked upon the young man that blossomed from that little boy and saw in him the spark of the warrior. It was then the elderly knight started to train the peasant. Meph took to fighting like it was the most natural thing for his body to do. He rarely had to be shown things more than once before he understood the mechanics of the moves and, after two or three attempts, they watched him master the technique. With his uncanny ability to follow orders, understand strategy, and fight better than some of the most celebrated of the knights, Meph was given secondhand leather armor, a sword, and a shield from a knight who had died on the battlefield and sent to kill. And kill he did.

It wasn’t long before Meph would lead the infantry into the battles as he was fearless when it came to war. He was the first to take the field, brutally killing any and all in his path. He was a machine. He didn’t see age, sex, fighting skill. If someone stood before him with a weapon, he would strike them down. This was also the reason why he would be the last to leave the battlefield and pray over the dead. He knew his viscous killing had to be atoned for. He grieved for the lives lost in the only place he was allowed to, among the dead while the others that fought at his side retreated from the sight of what they had done and lost themselves in talks of righteous victory and sins of the flesh.

As he approached his tent, he heard the drums take up a merry beat. He smelled the cooking fires burning and a feast being prepared. He heard the early sounds of the celebration the knights would be given for their valiant efforts. Meph stepped into his tent and dropped the heavy sword and shield from his clenched fists and removed the scarred leather armor that was saturated with sweat and blood from his torso. He rested it all against the cloth wall of his tent. He then checked himself for any severe wounds that might need stitching. He had made it through the battle mostly unscathed, only a few minor cuts. He took up his trusty twin axes and tucked them into his belt as he stepped out of his tent. The longest part of the night was beginning and Meph had hastened to start the task. He claimed the shovel that was placed outside of his tent and headed back to the battlefield.

After every battle Meph was to bury their dead. He was ordered not to touch the enemy bodies, as they may wish to dispose of their dead differently, but the slain knights were to be buried. Meph had been doing this for so many years he had just decided that instead of digging one hundred small graves, he would just dig three or four huge graves and pile the bodies in until he deemed the hole full. Meph started to dig. Thankfully the ground was soft as it had soaked up the blood from the dead. It was much easier to dig muddy earth than dry earth. The sun had still been awake when Meph started his dig but, when he was ready to start piling the bodies, the moon was high in the sky. He then started to check bodies to ensure they were dead. Occasionally he would come across someone who was still alive; that’s where the axes came into play. He made quick work of putting them out of their misery, as he called it. The dawn was breaking when he finished his lengthy task. His favorite time of day. He stood in the middle of the field that was now cleared of his brother fighters and gazed out at the sun as it touched his filthy figure.

Exhausted, he tucked his gore covered axes into his belt and took the shovel back up in his calloused hands. He had prayed as he worked. Did what he could do for the Gods to show mercy to the slain. He only ever prayed for himself right before a battle when he asked the Gods to make this the last time he had to fight. All around him men prayed for the chance to go home, to see their families again, to hold their children. Meph prayed to be taken in battle so he can escape this life and find peace beyond. Perhaps he was selfish, as him dying would prevent most of the men around him from having the opportunity to ever see their families again. His continued life of killing must be a fair exchange for the Gods, for Meph kept on living to fight again.

He dropped the shovel where he had found it and went into his tent to grab a bit of soap he had squirreled away the last time the knights did their laundry. He took the soap down to a creak he had found when they first arrived and watched the water trip and trickle over the stones and fallen branches. It wasn’t deep, maybe up to his knees in the deepest parts, but it was deep enough for him. The water was freezing but he needed to get clean, and the bath houses were only for the knights. He removed his torn and patched clothes that were made out of canvas. They were so stained with blood and sweat it was hard to believe the material had once been white. It was not a tawny brown with darker stains dotted here and there. He scrubbed his shirt and pants all the same, for they were all he owned in the world. Once he was satisfied with the washing of his clothes, he washed himself.

The clear water turned burgundy around him as he worked to free himself of the sweat, dirt, and blood. His hair was long, blonde, and stayed braided down his back to keep it out of his face. He also had a blonde beard that he kept closely cropped to his face. Well, the best he could given that he used a dagger to do it. But he preferred a short beard if he had to wear one at all. He stepped out of the creek and gathered his wet clothes. Not caring that he was naked, he headed back to camp where the whores were waking and leaving the knight’s tents after their celebratory nights. They called to Meph, teasing him for being absent from the party and how it would take all five of them to handle a man his size. Meph never looked their way, he had no interest in whores.

Inside his tent he fought to get his wet pants on as he had been ordered to report to the General’s tent once he was cleaned up. He did this now, stepping over the unconscious bodies of the knights as they lay too drunk from wine and fun to have made it to their beds. Meph, thinking he was expected, stepped into the General’s tent and cleared his throat. The General lay sound asleep on his bed, an empty bottle on the floor where it appears he had dropped it. Meph cleared his throat louder and the General snorted in his sleep and opened a bloodshot eye. “Oh, yes, you. I expected you hours ago. You really don’t know how to move quickly with tasks unless they involve killing.” Meph didn’t think the General had any idea of the amount of work it took to bury that many bodies. But Meph only stared at him in silence. “Yes, well, I already told the other men this news so I might as well tell you too. The war is over. We are being called home. The King is going to recognize you on the steps of the palace when we arrive. I, personally, am against his crazy idea of giving you status. But he sees that you have fought longer and more bravely than almost every other knight that ever served under me. You will need to go to the armory tent and get suited up in some real clothes and armor as you can’t present yourself to the King in the rags and trash you wear.” The General had not been happy with the letter he had gotten from King Andrew, but he followed it to the letter. “Don’t let this take you all morning. You still must help knock down camp like always. You aren’t a knight yet, so until you are, you will be treated like the peasant you are. Now get out.” The General rolled over and passed back out until he was ready to get up.

Meph left the General’s tent and went to the armory. The ladies that were working in the armory had to sew Meph a new shirt and pants as they didn’t have anything big enough to cover him correctly. Meph stood at six feet, five inches, and was thick and broad with hulking muscles. He didn’t look like a knight should look; he was much too big. He looked like a gladiator of old or a Viking, not a noble man. The ladies got the new clothes on him and then were at a complete loss with what to do about his feet for they had no boots big enough for him. Meph would have to continue to wear the worn-out leather soled shoes he had been wearing for years. He had to go and get them from his tent so the ladies could dress him for the journey home. One of the motherly figures finally gave Meph some food and water while they fussed over him. Most knights were lean, fit but not bulky like him. They were having trouble finding armor that would fit across his broad chest. Eventually they asked him to just bring what he normally wears into battle.

The ladies tried to clean up his leather chest piece as best as they could, but they could simply not hide the multitude of blemishes to the thick leather where swords, spears, arrows, knives, and axe blades had struck the leather and left their marks. It was also so heavily stained by sweat and blood that they weren’t even sure what color it was supposed to be. At a complete loss as to what they were supposed to do, they went to get the General as this was on his orders, and they just didn’t have anything for him. It was decided Meph would just have to travel home and present himself to the King and the Princess as a pauper. A knight’s family was usually required to have armor made for their sons when they started to be trained as a knight. This situation was most unusual. Meph, looking ragged compared to the other knights who had taken the time to polish their armor, so it shined like new pennies, while he adorned his dull, battle-scarred armor. He took his normal spot at the very back of the caravan and followed the knight’s parade on foot. They rode and he walked for four days, making a point to ride through each of the towns, villages, and hamlets they passed, parading through their streets as the glorious heroes of this newly acquired kingdom. Meph’s eyes stayed trained down, not wanting to look at the faces of the women he had widowed or the children he had orphaned. It was a very long four days. On the morning of the fifth day the knights were especially excited as this was the day they would arrive in their home. To Meph’s surprise a horse was brought to him, and he was told to mount up. Like the armor, a knight’s family was required to purchase the horse for their sons, which is why Meph had always walked. He didn’t argue, only mounted the steed and fell into line, staying at the back. Meph wasn’t one for attention and, never having been on horseback before, he usually went unnoticed or deemed unimportant. Now, he felt like he was being showcased in a way he never had before.

It was easy to tell when they entered into the kingdom that was their destination. People came out of their houses and were excited to see their warriors. They cheered, waved, and even called a few by name as if identifying them or searching the parade of knights for their loved ones or celebrated heros. Meph noticed that some of the kingdom’s villagers noticed him and started whispering and pointing at him, which confused him. He had been five years old when he had been sent away to the battlefield. How would anyone know who he was? As they traveled to the heart of the kingdom, they passed the poorest of the mud houses, the houses made of thatch, the wooden houses with the thatch roofs, the solid wooden houses, passed the stone homes and then into the kingdom proper where there were structures stacked like five homes on top of the other. Meph had never seen such a sight. But each tier of homes they passed; the more people seemed to know him. Stares turned to whispers, turned to pointing, turned to waving, then shouting and some people actually came up to him and touched his leg or his worn-out boots. Meph had no idea how to react. Why was no one doing this to the other knights? Why was he being singled out.

The King was proud of his choice to make his prized warrior a knight of his kingdom. To make sure the people of his kingdom knew how loyal and just he was, he had his messengers spread the word throughout the kingdom that he was going to knight a boy that was born a peasant and give him royal standing in his court. He felt it gave his people hope to know their children could one day rise above their station in his kingdom. The King was very proud of himself for thinking of such a genius way to keep them loyal to him. And he had made sure they saw the progression and how the peasant boy lifted his parents from pig farmers to a Lord and Lady, and then into the royal court. Now, Lord and Lady Norwish were widely known in the kingdom, and their social climb was a story told to small children on how they could lift their families to greatness one day. Though no one knew this incredible child that had done so much for his family. This was the first sight they were catching of him as he rode the borrowed horse through the streets.

When the people beheld him, they fully believed he was no real knight. He didn’t look like the haughty rich boys most of the men who rode before him were. He looked like them, the ones born and raised in the dirt - the tanned skin, the worker’s build, and the grey eyes. All that looked upon him couldn’t fail to see the anxiety in the man or the sadness in his eyes. Several of the older, motherly and grandmotherly, figures were the ones to approach and touch him, welcoming him home in a way that made his eyes smile at them, though his mouth never moved. Young women seemed to notice him also. As their eyes touched upon his powerful form and straight-backed posture. They disappeared behind their hands to whisper and giggle. All the other knights were responding to the ladies, waving and calling compliments and beckoning them to find them by moonlight. Meph had never been exposed to women before. He had seen them but other than the older women who would sew him up when I was injured in battle, or the women who worked in the armory, he had been kept away. The young women and whores the knights fraternized with were off limits to him. He had always been told that if he wanted a woman, he could go look for one in the pig pens. Meph never bothered. He kept to himself.

On nights when he wasn’t burying bodies until dawn or writhing in pain from the latest battle injury, he would find quiet places to go and think. He had found a book once and sometimes thumbed through the pages. He couldn’t read but he liked the look of the words. His deepest desire was to learn to read. A secret he had never uttered aloud in his entire life. The book was currently tucked into the bag that hung off his horse’s saddle. He would have liked to carry it on him but with the sun beating down on them he didn’t want to ruin it with his sweat.

The knights began to fan out in front of him, pulling off either to the left or the right as they rode up to the mighty stone steps of a breath-taking castle. The flags with the crowned lion hung and whipped in the wind everywhere. Meph’s horse stopped in the middle of the arch of knights and Meph finally raised his eyes and looked up. There was King Andrew, the Lion. Behind him was a dozen guards in red tunics with the King’s crest on their chests, they all had swords drawn. Meph swallowed, nervous he might be attacked should he dismount his horse. King Andrew reached a hand out and motioned Meph to come to him with his ringed fingers, “Come, brave warrior, stand before me and receive my thanks for your service.” Meph dismounted the horse and, very slowly, closed the gap between himself and the stone steps. He then climbed the stairs and stopped three steps from the top. “Kneel now before me.” Meph lowered himself to his knees and bowed his head. If the King had brought the blade down upon his neck to severe his head, it would have made more sense to him than receiving this honor. He had only fought the battles they had sent him to, nothing special in his eyes.

Meph felt the blade of a sword touch his left shoulder, then his right shoulder, and then rest on the crown of his head before lifting off him. “Rise, Sir Norwish, Knight of the Realm.” All the people that had gathered in the courtyard of the castle to watch started to cheer and clap. Meph stood as commanded and bowed his head to the King. His deep stormy eyes shifted then to the young lady standing just behind the king. He hadn’t seen her before now. She had a stoic look about her, like she would rather be anyway but here. His eyes lowered as he turned from the king and returned to his horse. “Let the festivities begin!” King Andrew announced for all to hear. All the knights paraded to the stables where they dismounted their horses for the stable hands to care for them. Meph removed his bag with his personal items from the saddle and patted the mare in thanks. A squire was waiting there for him and addressed him, “Sir Norwish? Si…Sir Norwish?” Meph turned his attention to the young boy. “There is a room prepared for you, Sir. Follow me, please.” Meph followed behind the boy who was a chatterer. He informed Meph that his name was Timothy, but everyone called him Mouse. He also explained how everyone in the kingdom had been told of the new knight coming home. They had heard stories about his victories for years. All the young boys wanted to be him. Meph glared as he learned this and touched Mouse’s shoulder to get his attention. In a gentle voice that didn’t seem to match the giant body it came from, Meph said softly, “No one should wish for my life, Mouse. War is not the game young boys think it is.” Meph then removed his hand from Mouse who looked up at him in awe. All he ever heard the other knights talk about is how great it is to go off to war. To fight the enemy and to come home labelled courageous and live a life of prosperity and grandeur. Mouse led Meph to his room and stepped inside with him. Meph removed his armor and the clothes that had been made for him before they left. He had been in them for four days straight. When he removed his shirt Mouse saw the tapestry of scars covering Meph’s back and gasped. Mouse opened the door and ran out of the room and down the hall to where the other squires gathered to gossip. Mouse had all of their attention.

Meph only had the clothes he had washed the morning before they left. He had shoved them in his bag before he packed up his tent. This is what he put on now. The canvas shirt and pants that were so stained with blood and sweat that they were now yellowed and brown. He looked like a peasant again and couldn’t bear to be seen walking through the castle like this. He left the way he had come in with Mouse, slipping out of a door to the outside of the castle. There he found his way back to the stables and asked if he could help. His face was not known to them, and he appeared to be a servant, so the stable hands allowed his help. Meph worked quietly as he bathed, brushed, and led whichever horse he was tasked to care for to where they were stabled. He then helped feed and water his charge before moving on to the next horse. The stable hands gossiped as they worked, talking about Meph especially and the stories of his victories that had made their way back to the kingdom. When all the horses were put away Meph approached the stable hands and informed him gently, “The Bard’s tellings of my efforts on the battlefield are flattering but mostly false. If something’s too fantastical, it probably isn’t true.” Meph then wandered off leaving the stable hands staring at him as they just realized who that servant really was.

Meph had just found the training area for the knights and took a few hours to acquaint himself with the area. He nodded and approved of the set up. This small area felt more like home to him than any other place had so far in the kingdom. Meph went into the training armory area and found some old potato sacks that were to be stuffed with hay and used for target practice. Until they were needed, Meph laid them out on the ground and sat down upon them. This felt like home to him.

Meanwhile, at the party…

No one seemed to miss Meph. The knights sure didn’t as they basked in their own clouds of false glory, each of them boasting how they were solely responsible for the latest victory. The nobles of the court didn’t miss him as they had never met the man, only heard stories of him, but seemed to forget to look for him as they guzzled wine and ate succulent food. It wasn’t until Meph’s parents, Lord and Lady Norwish showed up and started asking if anyone had seen their son, the man who was just Knighted, that anyone even realized no one had seen him since he presented himself to the King. The chatter started then, and every knight present was asked about the whereabouts of Sir Norwish. None of the knights had seen him. His squire, Mouse, was sent for and questioned about Meph’s location. Mouse confessed that he had left his knight alone in his room after seeing the knight without his shirt on and had run to tell of his battle scars. With Mouse too wrapped up in sharing what he saw with the few nobles that wanted to listen, and no one else really having any desire to leave the party, it was decided that Meph would show up when he got hungry. His parents swiftly forgot they were supposed to be worried about finding their oldest son and soon lost themselves in conversation and wine.

Meph never showed up to the party. Instead, he had borrowed a bow and a quiver of arrows from the training grounds and took off into the woods. He managed to kill himself a fine rabbit. After gutting and skinning it, he took it back to the training yard and built up a little fire to cook his dinner. Even in civilization, Meph was still on the battlefield in his mind. He ate the rabbit and buried the bones so they wouldn’t attract predators. He sat quietly as the sun began to set and the cover of night fell upon the land. He was soon asleep on the potato sacks on the stone floor of the knights training center. As far as he knew no one even looked for him that night. Everyone had probably forgotten to look for him after that first situation with his parents. Though the guest of honor never arrived, the party was a huge success, and everyone enjoyed themselves thoroughly. So thoroughly no one appeared in the training area the next day.

Meph woke as he would have if were still in his tent on the battlefield. He pushed himself off the floor and folded the potato sacks to put them back where he had found them. The bow and arrows he used the day before were taken up again and he ventured off to find breakfast. He came upon a river and leaned over the flowing water to quench his thirst. Instead of moving on, he sat down by the river’s edge and waited. Soon enough a fine deer wandered close enough to him that he was able to take it down with a few arrows. He hoisted the carcass across his shoulders and carried it back to the castle. It took some effort, but he finally found the kitchens and offered to trade the deer for some food. The kitchen staff was happy to make the trade and took the deer to be butchered as breakfast for the huge man was prepared.

The topic of who he was started and Meph introduced himself, but not as a knight, only as himself. But they all knew his name and started buzzing. Why wasn’t he in the knight’s dining hall? Why hadn’t he attended the party? Why? Why? Why? Until the head cook in the kitchen told them all to leave the man alone. She saw immediately that Meph was not the man they were expecting to find at all. She saw the broken boy in his eyes and felt for him. She came to him and said kindly, “You just come to me for your food from now on, okay? I will make sure you stay fed. And you can eat here in the kitchens, if you like.” She spoke loud enough so everyone could hear so no one would question his presence when he came for food. The head cook didn’t lie, Meph ate more than he had ever eaten in his life that morning. Eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, stew, bread. He ate until he was stuffed. With earnest thanks they asked him back for lunch and he agreed.


Meph went back to the training area and was using a sword on a pillar of wood when he heard a familiar voice and turned to see one of his captains. “You didn’t attend your party last night.” Meph didn’t speak, only stood there holding the sword in ready position. “We took a small boy and taught him to fight. But, in all that time we failed to teach you to live, didn’t we? I see our error with you now. We never taught you what it was to be a knight, only a weapon. Forgive me for that.” Meph only looked at his captain, his expression not changing. “There is a thief problem in the three forests that surround this kingdom. We are not sure if they are one large band of thieves all splitting up to cover different areas. Or if they are three separate groups. The point is, it has become difficult for travelers to come and go from the kingdom without being accosted by bandits. How would you like a quest? I will have to ask the King before you set out, but I doubt he will say no to you going. Are you up for it, Meph?” Meph merely nodded, a look he wore just before battle masking his gentle features.

By that afternoon Meph had readied himself. He left the armor or anything that read knight behind. He wore his peasant’s clothing and had his favorite twin axes tucked into his belt at the small of his back. He had a sword, an old training sword that had seen better days, and a waterskin. With the King’s permission, Meph left the castle as he accepted the quest. It took him over a week to find and befriend his first thief. Meph, being seen as a peasant, was accepted into the camp and, when they saw he could fight, was offered a place among them. He learned their secrets and their networking. They were three separate groups, but they made peace and traded goods and tips. At the full moon, all the groups gathered and had a huge party where they all drank the night away. Meph stayed with the thieves through the first full moon. He wanted to see how big this gathering really was. He didn’t know how to count so, for every head there, he placed a small pebble in his pocket to give the captains an idea of how many they would face.

As morning approached and all the thieves slept, Meph got up and headed to the castle. The guards wouldn’t let him pass the castle gates. It wasn’t until he requested an audience with his captain and the man arrived that Meph was allowed to enter. He truly looked like a peasant once more. His hair was still in its usual braid down his back. His beard was grown out and scruffy looking. His visible skin was dirty. And his clothes were even more yellowed and blemished than before. As he was guided through the castle by his captain, those he passed looked upon him in disapproval. Why would the captain let such a man in the castle? Meph was shown to a special room for the officers where he reported back his findings and his ideas on how to fight the groups. He emptied his pockets of the pebbles and told them this is how many people the knights would need to be prepared to fight, though most of the thieves are not trained how to fight, only how to look intimating. With the information given, Meph headed back out into the woods to keep an eye on the group he had befriended. On the next full moon, the knights marched from the castle and with Meph’s intelligence, mounted a successful attack on the three groups of thieves. All members were either killed or rounded up to be put to work in the kingdom. Meph was treated like one of the thieves. He was caught, bound, beaten but instead of being lined up with the other thieves, Meph was escorted back to the castle by his captain and brought before King Andrew.

King Andrew looked Meph up and down, seeing the warrior as a man who needed a task at all times. The last thing he wanted to do was lose Meph as war would surely come again and he would be needed. “You could have deserted our ranks and joined those thieves, but you didn’t. You could have used the opportunity to run off and leave the kingdom, but you didn’t. You served me and your captain well. That wins you trust from me. So much trust I have a new task for you. My daughter, Princess Catherine, will be betrothed soon. Princes and noblemen from all over the world will be coming to request her hand in marriage. She is currently away at school, but the semester is coming to a close and she will need to come home to the castle. I want you to guard her. Keep her safe. Do not let any evil befall her. The sons of my enemies may be coming to try and punish me through her. You must not let anything happen to her.” The captain cleared his throat, urging the king to keep going. “Oh, yes. Well, she is a difficult girl. Keep her safe regardless of the mischief she might get into. But, for now, you need food, a bath, and new clothing. I give you until dinner to prepare yourself as you will need to head out tonight. It is a two-day journey to her school, and she will be turned over to you for guarding as soon as you arrive. The two knights she currently has are not performing well and are to be sent back as soon as you take over as her guard.” Meph bowed his head and was led out of the throne room by his captain.

Meph was cared for in the kitchen as a bath was drawn for him. Clothes were pieced together as best as the seamstresses could do on such short notice and brought for him to put on once he was clean. Meph ate until full, bathed for the first time in something other than a stream, and put on clothes that were tight around his chest and shoulders but, at least, they covered him and weren’t covered in mud and sweat. There was still no armor that would fit him, so he pulled on his leather chest piece, tucked his twin axes into his belt as the small of his back, and donned the sword he was given by his captain. Meph headed to the stables and was assigned a horse to use for his journey. He mounted the steed and road off in the direction the captain had instructed him to.

The ride wasn’t hard, only long. But Meph filled with hours with songs he knew from his past and present. The horse seemed to appreciate his singing and seemed to trot along to the rhythms he set with each new song. He arrived at the university just as the sun was rising. The whole town was asleep, and he wasn’t quite sure where he was supposed to tether his horse. It needed to be fed and watered. Eventually, he came across a gentleman with a horse and cart and asked where he could stable his horse. The gentleman was kind enough to give Meph directions to his house and allow him to keep the horse there. Meph was grateful and thanked the man. Two hours later he was climbing the steps of the academic hall, and he went on the search for his charge. He found the knights first, as they bore the same red tunic as himself with the crowned lion upon it. The only difference was, Meph’s tunic stretched close to ripping across his chest from his muscle mass, while the two knight’s tunic were near to ripping over their bloated bellies. Meph explained that they were being called back to the castle and he would be taking charge of the princess. There was a small uproar but neither man wanted to challenge Meph. They left and Meph took the stance outside of a classroom. While he stood there he listened, absorbing the information that was being taught.

Finally, after so many long years, the entirety of the Princess’s life to be accurate, had the victory bells been rung. Princess Catherine couldn’t have been more excited to hear them, for she had once thought them to be decorative rather than useful. Her whole life had been surrounded by this war, which she wasn’t entirely clear on why it had started. She had been born just after it had started, her mother and her alone with their hand-maidens in the castle, while her father was off leading his armies into victory. Eventually, he had returned, victorious in his escapades, but still, all around her, the war had raged, and this made it difficult to spend too much time with her father. She was the only child of the King and Queen, having been discovered that her mother’s body was much too delicate to support a second pregnancy, and with her parents off leading, the Princess was pretty lonely. At least, until she was about 10, when her hand-maidens changed once more, the former needed, usually for family affairs. This change brought Catherine’s first real friend, a then fifteen year old by the name of Hannah.

Despite the war raging around their kingdom, Catherine was still brought up in luxury, and wealth. She was kept in ignorance of the danger while she grew, but she was never allowed anywhere without an escort, and rarely without Hannah. One of the male servants for many years, at least until the first wave of the knights had come back, usually with some kind of injury. Usually, it was these men tasked to watch over the young princess, and at first it was easy, as Catherine adored and respected the Knights. They were, after all, the protectors of her family. Added to this, as with many of the young children, she was educated despite the wars. Catherine also learned the ins and outs of her kingdom, and eventually, what was really happening. She first started noticing as a young girl, when the men would leave healthy, and either come back wounded, or not at all. As a figure of the Royal family, Catherine had attended more funerals than parties in those years, often crying quietly for the dead when she was alone in her rooms after. These difficult times also meant that Catherine’s schedule was regulated, made by her mother, and kept in line by Hannah and her other three personal hand-maidens. This also, as she grew, pushed Catherine to take a nursing course, learning how to care for the wounded in her castle, and kingdom. Her mother was against this at first, but Catherine proved very useful, skillful, and when given the chance, quite wonderful with the patients. When she had earned her place, this was added to the already tight schedule.

This tight, regimented schedule caused an itch up Catherine’s back, however. She had never known true freedom, someone always worrying each and every time she went to town, someone always shadowing her, Hannah telling her; Careful, Princess. Not too far.” Like she was still a child, even when she hit young adulthood. Catherine adored Hannah, but she could be quite irritating when she wanted to be. Still, Catherine knew it was playful and usually replied with, “If I’m going too far, then you’re not going fast enough.” This was an endless routine, and it nearly drove her crazy, until one day, she finally found something interesting in life. Although she had seen this man many times in her life, at castle parties or even in town, and had even interacted with him at times, at fifteen years old, she officially became interested in Marcus Norwish, the son of one of the families in the town. They were well known, and wealthy in their own right. Marcus was gorgeous, not terribly older than she, charming and had the Princess wrapped around his poet’s hands before the Princess knew it was happening. He was also, to add to the scandal it already was, her teacher. Like any young girl in love, she made excuses to see him, be with him, even begging her parents to enroll, and eventually getting her way, into the school he worked at, which also happened to be the finishing school that she would’ve attended anyways. This made it easier to be with him, and this was when she also began to gift him small items of affection. On the day before she left in the first Christmas break, Catherine had her first kiss.

Her first kiss turned into her first everything. She thought about Marcus that entire Christmas break, and couldn’t wait to see him when it was over. Heat was quick, hot and ever-present between the two when she returned to school, and Catherine finally gave herself to Marcus the night after her sixteenth birthday party, although by that time, there wasn’t much they hadn’t already done. Catherine hadn’t expected it to hurt the way it did that first time, but Marcus was gentle, and sweet when he took her that night. Like any new sexual relationship, this turned into a flurry of a cycle, with Catherine now making it very difficult for those men who were meant to be watching her, and worrying Hannah half to death about getting caught. As it turned out, formal education wasn’t the only one Catherine got, as she also learned how to people watch, and learned how to read people for what she needed. This was particularly useful on the knights that followed her. The nostalgia of the knights, with their horses, and swords and big shiny armour had worn off with the princess, and it was now a daily task to figure out how to ditch them long enough to get out and away. Catherine was much smarter than she seemed in this task. All it really took was a good hike through the forest, or winding through the town. The bar is always where she tended to meet up with Marcus. Catherine would then leave them an open-tab while she pull Marcus up the stairs, and into a room.

There, the lovers would indulge in each other. Catherine learned many things on and with him, and this, in turn caused Catherine to grow more and more affectionate with her lover. As far as she knew, he was as affectionate and devoted to her. Of course, the real problem with this relationship was stature. Marcus, while a Lord, handsome and quite eligible, was just not high enough for the crowned Princess of Sweden. Catherine knew that someday, she would have to take a husband. She knew, someday, she would be married, and need to have a child. She knew she had responsibilities to her crown. She knew this, and she accepted it. That didn’t mean that Catherine couldn’t attempt to enjoy her youth without those, in and around the war times.

As one would, Catherine did grow used to living this way. Wake up, bathe, be dressed, eat, attend classes, such as they were, attend luncheon, afternoon tea, afternoon classes, work a shift with the wounded, something she had been doing for many years at that point, change and be dressed for dinner, and after it, she would begin her plan to sneak out. The Knights, as lazy as they might’ve become, did learn she would do this, and tried at least to anticipate her actions. Still, they usually failed in catching her before the adventurous young woman would escape the grounds, and had to chase her through to the town. They never told her father about this, for they surely would’ve been fired. As long as Catherine didn’t get hurt, or captured, they considered their job done, and would happily wait in the hours that Catherine was upstairs with Marcus. Generally, she was in a much happier mood when she came down.

Still, this brief fun only served as a small reprieve to the horror surrounding her life. Even as she snuck out, she still had to be extremely careful, as that war had never stopped raging, and as she got older, she wondered if it would ever stop. She may have been rebellious, but she also wasn’t stupid. She had learned in her young years what was going on, the truth behind all the secrets and pretty lies, and because of that, although she made it difficult for the Knights, she was always careful about her own personal safety, and told Hannah, who agreed to keep her secrets, and help her as long as she was safe. That was why, at last, when the bells finally began to ring, her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She was with Marcus, the two having snuck out late after her 18th birthday party, at the time the loud, long and hopeful bells finally chimed. It was late at night, but they were sharp, and clear.

She was told that once, the bells used to mean peace, acceptance and love. They would ring and the kingdoms people would be happy, be grateful, laugh and sing and play in the streets. Catherine had never heard them ring once in her life, nor had she ever had the pleasure of seeing the town this way. The buried longing, the need to see that, the wish she had made when she blew out her birthday candles, startled her enough when she heard them to break apart from Marcus, who was in the process of lying her down in the bed. “Wait, wait. Did you hear that? Marcus, do you hear it?” She asked, her head looking up as she moved to sit up. As a Royal, she had of course heard the rumours that they might finally be coming home, but she had been forbidden to say anything, in case the rumours proved untrue. But the bells! That meant they had to be true. Catherine got off the bed, leaving Marcus to get up behind her. He was just as surprised, coming up behind Catherine as she stood in the window. The town was lighting up as the bells played their chimes. “Look at that. At long last.” His voice whispered to her as his mouth lightly kissed over her shoulder and up to her neck, which made her tilt her head into the action. “Do you think it’s over?” She asked him, trying not to be distracted as lust moved through her young body. “Really over?”

Marcus sighed a little as he turned the Princess around to face him. His hand moved her waist long hair out of her face as he looked upon her. She was very beautiful, but his intentions with her were not quite true. Still, he seduced her, and made her think he loved her too. “I think it’s finally time to see what kind of beautiful and amazing Queen you can be, Catherine. I think it’s not only over, I think you....are going to shine brighter than the stars. Just as you always do to me.” Catherine grinned at him, and his lovely words as he pulled her closer to him. Her hands moved up his chest, kissing him as she pushed the fabric up and over his head. His fingers pulled at the tight strings of her corset until they became loose, and the fabric of her dress was easy to untangle. As he laid her down again, as they had very passionate and excited sex, they listened to the bells, and then spoke of the things they could do together without such a heavy presence of guardians.

The next day, the Princess received word that she was set to be home, with her knights and Hannah by her side in four days time. Her classes were not yet over, but the school was currently closed in the celebration, and it was time for Catherine’s Royal duties. She was expected to attend the knighting ceremony, and the party after. She was indeed looking forward to the party. But the ceremonies would take absolutely forever. She had arrived the night before, to her own round of cheers and applause from her people, attending the party the night before the knights arrived. There would be another tonight for them, she thought as she stood in her room, adjusting her crown atop her head. Her hair was pinned back beautifully, and at her ears and throat hung jewels that sparkled. She had a beautiful blue dress on, and shoes that matched. Hannah fussed over her as she talked excitedly about the wars finally being over. Catherine was quite happy about this as well, thinking of the freedoms she might finally have. Still, with a face that revealed nothing, she descended the stairs and moved to her father’s side, with her mother on the other side. She stood, waiting as the town cheered the knights return, watching them as they rode through town, lining up infront of the castle. This was when she had her first view of this new Knight, and she was....confused. His armour was wrong, and looked....a little gross. Momentarily confused, she wondered why he was with them.

It was then her father called one of them forward, and much to Catherine’s surprise, she both knew the last name, and that shock grew bigger when the man improperly dressed stepped down from his horse. This couldn’t have been the right man, she thought as her eyes watched him climb the stairs. There was no possible way this was the right man to her mind, and yet, he came, and he knelt. Her eyes watched her father in that same subtle confusion as he indeed went through with the ceremony. Through the taps to the shoulders and head, Catherine was confused. However, when it was over, her face moved back to that near-boredom as he rose. But she looked at him closely. When she did, she couldn’t quite help but notice the sadness in his eyes. For a moment, she wondered why, but then he stood, and she clapped with the rest. She really could not get over the way he was dressed, but quickly, she put it out of her mind as her maid took over again, and moved her to where she was supposed to be. It was like this until just before the party, all of the official business both her parents demanded she be involved in. “As future Queen, you must be able to handle the business. The interactions. The day-to-day. And of course, these types of events. This is important, my Bug.” Her mother was telling her as they walked down the hall, intended on going and greeting the knights who were still in too bad of shape to walk. Catherine spent time with them, combing over each of the details, and although she knew it was important, all the young princess wanted was to escape.

Finally, it was time to go and get ready for the party. Hannah took Catherine back up to her room, where Catherine sat down in her chair, already exhausted. “Who will be attending, Hannah?” Catherine asked as she began to strip herself of jewelry before she stood so Hannah could undo the dress so Catherine could slip it off and change. Hannah smiled as she stepped behind Catherine to start undoing the pins of her hair. “Everyone, Your Majesty. The town is alit with the news of the wars ending. But I also heard Lord and Lady Norwish are coming. Maybe bringing with them a certain son.” Hannah teased lightly, which made Catherine blush. “I haven’t any idea to what you might be referring.” The two giggled as there was a knock, and Catherine’s other maidens walked in. Together, they readied the Princess for the party, and Catherine walked down in dignity, her heart excited to see Marcus, if he did manage to make it.

Catherine enjoyed the castle parties as they usually were, but this one was magnificent. For once in her life, the entire ballroom was filled, and just as naturally, everyone wanted to dance with the Princess. Catherine also enjoyed quite a bit of mead over the next few hours, and was absolutely delighted when Marcus and his parents showed up. Their questions though, brought to the realization that since the party had started, she hadn’t seen the knight since. As Marcus and his parents were making their rounds with their questions, Catherine pulled one of her handmaidens, another by the name of Gwen to the side, requesting that she search the castle to find out where the Knight went, and report back to her everything that she may see, hear or even smell. Catherine was curious about this entire situation, and couldn’t help the need but to find out more. Gwen accepted her mission in an instant, turning in her heel to stroll out of the room to begin her search.

Meanwhile, Marcus had broken away from his parents, and on the way by, snagged Catherine’s hand. “There’s my beautiful princess. Come here.” Catherine giggled as Marcus pulled her into a secluded room and kissed her. “Oh I missed you. I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.” Catherine told him. Marcus only smiled, and pulled her closer. In reality, his parents had made him come, but to Catherine, he said; “I would never miss an opportunity to see your face, my lady.” Catherine blushed hard at his words, but was forced to stop his kiss when she heard her parents close. “Not here. But...come to me tonight. I know you’re staying close.” Marcus always did when he was in town, plus he was welcome in the castle. Marcus smiled at her words, and kissed the back of her hand instead. “As my lady wishes.” This didn’t stop Marcus from hanging out with Catherine, though, even if he did have to watch several other young men levy for the Princess’s attention. And levy they did. Prince’s, Dukes, sons of Lords and Earls all wanted a bit of Catherine’s time. She gave it to them, even if it was no more than being polite. Still, she listened, conversed, and drank more mead, which ended up with her forgetting all about the task she had assigned Gwen.

She wouldn’t even be reminded of it until the next morning, for Catherine had stayed up longer than usual, waiting for her parents and guards to be too intoxicated to pay attention to what she was doing, and since Catherine rarely, if ever, gave a though to what the servants thought, she paid them no mind as she and Marcus went upstairs to Catherine’s bedroom. She was very cautious on bringing him to her room, of course, but once there, the two quickly started to indulge in each other, keeping their activities quiet, but no less passionate before Catherine fell asleep on his chest. The next morning, when Catherine awoke, Marcus was gone. This was not unusual, since they couldn’t risk being caught together in her bed. Not only was she unmarried, she was supposed to still be a virgin for her husband. Both Marcus and Catherine knew the consequences that would come with getting caught, and neither were prepared for that. Instead, Catherine rose with a slight hangover, because the mead always did her in. It was after her bath, when she was getting dressed, that Gwen knocked on her door to deliver her report.

And what a strange report it was. Gwen told Catherine that she had eventually found the Knight in none other than the training area. She had followed him to watch as he worked with the horses, and that he had caught and killed a deer. She had last seen him dragging it into the kitchens before she had to wind her way back. Catherine ordered the girl to continue to watch him while she returned to school, but later that day, she would learn that he was already being sent out again. The Princess thought this was rather odd, but didn’t pay too much mind as her head throbbed and she had to prepare for the journey back to school, which would be re-opening in a couple of days. Catherine was quite excited for the prospects, the potential freedoms. At least, until she learned that the two knights would still be escorting her. This made the Princess furious with her parents, insisting that she no longer needed one. Catherine did throw an absolute fit in the throne room over this fact, so much that she was sent out by her mother. Catherine was beyond furious, and both angrily packed and left without so much as a goodbye. It may have been extremely childish, but she giggled as she thought of the two knights scrambling to catch up.

The good thing about going back to school was that Marcus was there, and he was indeed waiting with open arms. This time, she had brought him a beautiful gold necklace that she intended him to wear, and it wasn’t long before the two fell into their normal routines. The wars ending did offer some relief to how heavily guarded she was, or at least she had thought. Gwen kept in contact with letters, letting the Princess know that the newest knight had still not returned, and the servants were beginning to wonder if he would. Catherine wondered the same as she wrote back to continue monitoring the situation, and finding out everything she could. If asked, she couldn’t quite explain why she wanted to know everything there was to know, but...she was the Princess, and she didn’t need a reason. That was what she told herself as she sealed the letter, and added it to the outgoing mail.

The month following after the war was really good. There was a renewed sense of peace, and safety. Catherine, of course, did not know there was still huge threats against her father, his kingdom and his daughter, and she joined in these celebrations. Already popular as the future Queen, Catherine led the school into dances, functions, she organized a few parties. She also, naturally, got even closer to her teacher, often spending the night with him. Naturally, none of these activities took away from Catherine’s actual classes. That month was really fun, despite her annoyance that her two knights still followed her every move. She had grown used to them, sure, but it was still irritating to have to sneak around them! Luckily, the school had the bar close to it, so she was usually able to simply send them there, just as she did before. All in all, the routines actually stayed fairly similar to the way they always had. The only true difference was the knights were giving her more space, but if that was because they were tired of chasing her, or didn’t feel they needed to heed her fathers words about the danger, she didn’t know. Or care. All she cared about was school and Marcus, which was why she didn’t really give too much thought to what her knights were supposed to be doing. As long as they didn’t interfere with her plans, then she had no reason to throw an absolute fit, something they had experienced before, and did not wish to experience again.

This is why the two backed off when Catherine came down the short steps on her way to class that morning. “You two are the most irritating! Haven’t you anything better to do? Surely, you must?” But they didn’t, and Catherine really hadn’t expected them too. Rolling her dark brown eyes, Catherine stepped around them, and walked down the hall into her class. She took her seat, her eyes glaring lightly at the knights stationed outside the door. It wasn’t fair, she thought as she leaned back in the chair. Nobody else had an armed guard escort. True, none of the other children here was the future Queen of Sweden, the literal only heir to the throne currently, but still. In this room alone was Prince’s, other Princesses, Barons, Dukes, Lords and Ladies, future Earls. All the important children came to this school, as it was safe, highly regimented and constantly patrolled, which did make sense to her. But she had a personal escort too, and it drove her crazy. She just wanted to be able to breathe a little bit without someone constantly watching her do it. The door to the classroom closed as the teacher moved from her desk. For the next hour, they were taught more business, and more inner workings of the towns surrounding the castles. Their roles within it, and how to keep it operating. And for some of those children in this class who struggled, how to treat people from other factions of life. This was one Catherine did know, and for this, she thanked her nursing course, and her mother. For years, Catherine had watched her mother handle all different types of people who sought an audience and help. Still, she dutifully took notes, asked a few questions, and received an outstanding test results from the test she’d taken last week. She smiled at the marks just as the chimes sounded, signalling the end of class.

Catherine gathered her books as she spoke with the young ladies of the neighbouring Kingdom. She’d learned early that the best place to make future, lasting relationships was right here, while they were young and before the bitterness of the world soured them. Catherine could be difficult and a brat, but they all could, and so far, it wasn’t stopping them from getting along. Catherine couldn’t say she was totally friends with anyone, but they wouldn’t claim that either. They were friendly, and willing to work together. Allies, she had learned, could be a great deal more effective than friendship sometimes. This is why Catherine always tried to present as approachable to them, as they did with her. She was laughing with them as they all stepped out of the classroom. Out of habit, Catherine’s eyes turned to where her knights should’ve been, only to find herself looking at the castles newest, and mysterious Knight. The crowd seemed to stop as they all noticed him, and Catherine could hear the whispering already start.

The Princess was instantly annoyed, both with the reaction of her fellow students, and mainly, the fact he still didn’t look like a proper Knight. To the first point, she turned with hard eyes. She was allowed to be annoyed and a little mean to her knights, but damned if anyone else could. “Is there a reason we’re all gathered here? Something to say, perhaps?” This stopped the whispering pretty quickly, as the student body knew Catherine was a little weird when it came to the knights. A quick round of ”No, your Majesty.” sounded as the mass turned to begin walking away. And to the second point, those brown eyes turned back to the massive mountain of a man standing infront of her. She recognized him from that night, but she couldn’t quite figure out what he was doing here. Or what he was wearing, which was literally making her eye want to twitch as she studied him. “And what, pray tell, are you wearing in my presence, Sir Knight? Did no one offer proper clothing?” She asked as she stepped closer to him. “Ontop of this, what in the world are you doing here?” If there was more guards being added to the ones she already had, she thought, she might just scream.

Meph knew nothing of his family. He realized early on that he had not been born to a noble family, why else would the knights treat him like he was a peasant unless he was one. They even called him peasant, so he just assumed his parents were as well. He was sent away at five years of age so you would think he would have some recollection but no. His stress as a child on a battlefield had banished what he might have remembered from his home from his mind. If he had known his parents had been made a lord and lady and that they would be attending the party, he might have gone just to see what they looked like. The idea of a younger brother hadn’t occurred to him even though he must have been there when Marcus was born. He was probably never given the opportunity to hold him, but he must have heard him cry, right? Maybe he had forgotten everything about his family when the realization of him never going back home sank in. In all actuality, Meph should have died on the battlefield and never should have made it home. But he had. Perhaps it was foolish of him to not realize there might be people looking for him at that party.

He was used to being left out of things like parties, group gatherings, celebrations. He really didn’t think twice about it when no one came to look for him. He was just as good on his own anyhow. He had a fine dinner and made friends in the kitchen when he brought in a deer. He won some of the king’s trust by spending two months undercover and helping bust up the thief population that was living in the forests around the kingdom. He had expected some kind of gratitude from the King and certainly his captain, but to be assigned to the Princess was not exactly what he was expecting. He would have been fine if they had made him a sentinel and let him live his life away from the castle in solitude. This was an unexpected assignment.

The news of Meph’s assignment to the Princess traveled through the castle faster than a cold. By the time Meph had arrived in the armory the General was in there with a face so red Meph knew he was in trouble. The General was in Meph’s face, screaming at him, “I forbid you to accept this assignment, Peasant. You will go to the King right now and tell him no. Then you will offer these two more worthy Knights to take your place. They are better suited for the job than you” Like usual, Meph hadn’t said a word. Only looked at the General and then over his shoulder at the two Knights looking haughty and proud of themselves. Meph recognized them both from his time at war. In a low voice that was barely above a whisper he said, “Those men are cowards. Danger approaches and they flee. Is that whom you want guarding the future of this kingdom?” The captain, the General, and the two Knights all looked dumbfounded that Meph had actually spoken out loud. And on top of that, what he said was flat out defiant. The General’s face turned red with anger. So red, Meph thought one of the veins in his neck was going to pop from the way they visibly throbbed under his skin.

Meph stood his ground as the General acted like he was going to swing at him. Meph knew he was stronger, faster, and more battle ready than the General. But he still wasn’t too excited about getting punched in the face. Meph might have been the better fighter, but he knew better than to raise his fists against his commander. The captain stepped in and managed to back the General off Meph. “Go speak to the King, General. Plead your case with him. Tell him how these two knights are better than Meph.” The captain put his hand solidly on Meph’s shoulder and continued, “You know how he is, Genreal. The King gave him an order, he’s going to carry it out. So, go to the King and get him to withdraw Meph and put in your boys.” Meph felt the captain’s hand push him away from the General and towards the stables. Twenty minutes later Meph was headed towards the university where the Princess was taking classes. It took him longer than he anticipated but he finally arrived. He spent an hour with the horse in the stables the man was kind enough to allow him to use. He fed and watered his steed, unsettled him, and brushed him to sooth the beast’s muscles. Meph had decided to name the jet-black mustang Sleipnir after the eight-legged horse ridden primarily by the god Odin in Norse mythology. Meph had formed a bond with Sleipnir over the short time they had spent together, and he thought the horse liked him as much as he liked the horse. He might request the captain ask the King if Meph could own him formally. But that could wait. He had a princess to find.

He received gawking stares from anyone he met in the hallways as he stomped through the halls of academia. He knew he was in the right place when he came upon two knights that appeared to have gone to seed. No longer fit for battle, they had grown fat and pudgy. Meph’s expression was of disappointment when he approached them and handed the fattest of the two a letter that he pulled from the worn leather satchel that was stretched across his chest and rested by his hip. The note read:

“By order of King Andrew the Lion, you are hereby summoned back to the castle. The knights have returned from war, but the threat of retaliation is forever looming. Return to the kingdom to undergo fitness training to get you back into shape should battle arise once more.
God save our King.”

It was a direct order and, as much as they really didn’t want to return to the kingdom just to put through training again, they knew denying this order would have them slaving away in the stocks for a few months. Meph was no one special to them, they might have remembered him from when he was a small squire, but he looked nothing like the boy he had been when these two men as been in battle. They unleashed some truly abusive phrases at Meph and told him to burn in hell. They had left before Princess Catherine’s classes were over so when she walked out of the classroom with her schoolmates Meph was the one leaning against the wall where her former knights had been. He seemed to shock her schoolmates as they all stopped, stared, and whispered behind cupped hands. Was it because he stood at six feet, five inches tall? Was it because he had so little body fat that every muscle was visible beneath his golden-tanned skin? Was it the braided blonde hair that stretched the length of his back? Or was it the fact that the tunic that had managed to pull over his shoulders was stretched to the point of near ripping from his broad, toned pectoral muscles. If he breathed too deep, the fabric would stand no chance.

Princess Catherine snapped at her classmates, and they stopped their chatter immediately. They turned and left her in his presence. She stepped up to him as if she didn’t fear him. Of course, there was no reason for her to fear him, he was there to protect her, but very few people in this world had ever stepped up to him and demanded things of him as she did. He reached into the satchel and withdrew a note that was addressed to Princess Catherine. As he handed over the note, he said in a voice soft and gentle it was hard to believe it came from this monster of a man, “No one could find clothes to fit me.” The note was held out to her from his large, dirty hand. Should she take it, she would see it bore her father’s seal. The script inside read as follows:

“Catherine. Your guards have gotten fat and lazy and I fear they are no longer the best choice in your first line of defense. I have recalled them to the castle to undergo fitness training. In their absence, I bequeath you Sir Norwish. He is not noble, but he is Ares himself on the battlefield – no one better to guard the Princess and future Queen. I know this is going to upset you. Change is a sensitive topic for you but give him a chance. If you don’t feel safe, we can find alternative guards for you when you return from school.” The stamp of King Andrew the Lion was the signature.

Meph stood silently and patiently as she read the note. He was curious as to what it said but he had no way of knowing unless Catherine informed him. His violet-gray eyes flickered to her expression and then away to scan the emptying hallway as students and professors moved about. The energy coming off the Princess obvious, to him, that she was annoyed. Angry? Annoyed and angry? Unless she asked him another direct question, he would remain mute. If she started walking, he would follow as he had been told. Always behind her right shoulder, two steps behind her. She led the way; he was her shadow.

Catherine’s eye twitched as she snapped at her classmates, one of them being a man almost as tall as Meph. Prince Darius, the crowned Prince of Denmark, already standing at six foot two inches, smirked as he stood there watching Catherine. The two were very familiar with one another, but they did not currently really like each other. The personalities didn’t allow them to get along yet, and it was his smirk that she watched as he turned. The Prince could be quite an asshole, and Catherine had no current tolerance for him. She watched he and his little cronies turn and walk away before Catherine turned to address her Knight. She blinked several times as she watched the way his clothes fit and posed her questions.

The answer was...surprising. Even on assignment, the Knights should’ve had something prepared for when he returned. What was more surprising to the Princess was his voice. How soft-spoken he was, how gentle. She blinked those big brown eyes once before his huge hand took a sealed note from his belt and handed it to her. Snatching it from him, she turned away from him to read it. The words upon it infuriated her, and it reflected in the body language. Her hand shook as she resisted the urge to crumple the note and throw it. She knew that wouldn’t make the knight go away. She knew that wouldn’t help, but she couldn’t react outwardly. Already, the rant that was forming in her head for when she returned home was long and sharp-tongued. Her body language was furious when she pinned him with one of her looks, trying to figure out the best way to get him to leave her alone when she met up with Marcus.

For the moment, however, she couldn’t do anything about it. She couldn’t make him leave and she couldn’t fire him. Her father would only send more. No, this was something she had to deal with in person. For now, she knew she would just have to find the best way to deal with him. Which to her mind, was to ignore him. She said nothing, but she turned on her heel, and walked away. She heard the mountain move behind her, and there, he would stay for the remainder of the day. Every class, every step Catherine took, the Knight was there. What she didn’t realize was that he was indeed listening to each and every lesson being taught. But why would she consider that? The Knights normally did not care about the lessons, as most of them had their own form of education. Plus, Catherine was still too annoyed, even by the end of classes to really care.

What she cared about was the way he looked. While he did have the right colours and tunic, if he moved too much, she was gonna have a problem on her hands. In thought of this, after the last class of the day, she stood infront of her knight, scanning him up and down a couple of times. Eventually, she sighed deeply. “If you insist on following me, then I insist we get you proper clothing. Come along.” She told him, before she turned on her heel once again. This time, the journey was,first to her room to change and inform Hannah where she was going, then out of the school and down to the local tailor. She went in with Meph behind her into the beautiful little tailor’s shop. They were very familiar with the Princess, and immediately bowed to her when they saw her. Catherine explained to them what she needed, and had Meph stand on the platform in the center.

For a moment, Catherine had turned to look at something, thinking nothing of the situation. At least, until the tailor, Mr Heningson, tried to approach the knight with the tape measure to start measuring from the shoulder. Meph reacted then, and so did Catherine. Without fear, she stepped between them, facing her Knight. “Woah. Woah. Woah!” She stood between the men, hands reached towards Meph. “Relax, Sir Knight. He just needs to take your measurements so we can find something that properly suits you. Okay?” Her voice was slightly, only slightly, softer than it had been all day as her eyes looked up to him. She would wait until he appeared calmer before she stepped back to let the tailor do his job, only this time, the tailor explained each step of what he would be doing so Meph didn’t react badly.

It took quite a while, given how huge the knight was, but eventually, Mr Heningson made something to fit him. “Now, Sir Knight, you’ll need to remove your clothes so these can be tested. Princess, if you would—“ However, before he could finish asking Catherine if she wanted to step out, Meph had removed his clothes, swiftly and effectively. In one hand was his shirt, and the other was his pants, and Catherine had her very true first look at her knight. What she saw had a twin reaction. The first, was how heavily scarred he was. “Oh my god...” She whispered without realizing she had said anything. He looked like he’d been beaten, and stabbed and...God knows what else. Immediately, she started wondering who had done this, as these looked far beyond anything she had ever seen for war scars. The second reaction was a much more feminine one. As it turned out, he wasn’t just huge in body, but also....why did he have three legs? Catherine couldn’t help the look she took before turning herself away when she realized to attempt to give him some kind of privacy. But she thought about it, because the horny 18-year-old mind couldn’t help it. Briefly, she thought of Marcus and had a small pang of guilt, but that was quickly overrode with ’what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.’ And that was followed by the thought of...Marcus wasn’t nearly that big. Or thick. Or anything. Not that the Princess was gonna seduce her Knight. She wouldn’t. Would she, she wondered as she looked over her shoulder one more time at him.

That secret battle continued, but it didn’t show in her eyes or face as she turned when the tailor fitted him with pants. She placed her own order with the assistant while Meph was finished being dressed, with Mr Heningson still explaining each step as a countermeasure of not getting attacked. When he was finally finished, Catherine was much more pleased. “At least now you’ll look right while you follow me.” There was not a single part of her that was happy with this arrangement still, but at least the student body wouldn’t keep gawking at him. Or so she thought. After she paid, which was really to put it on the account that was paid from the castle, and placed a few more orders for Meph’s clothes in the same breath, it was finally time to leave.

She did not speak to him on the way back to school, but now she was curious about him. Why was he so heavily scarred? Who had hurt him? He also didn’t behave like a proper knight, which then made her wonder where he had come from. She thought again about the fact that he and Marcus had the same last name. Distant cousins, maybe? She was going to have to ask Marcus if he knew anything about Meph, and if and how they might be related. Her mind was full of questions, wanting the answers, when her carriage finally arrived back at school. She was helped out, as always, by her driver, and then she walked into the school, knowing Meph would be right behind her. She sighed deeply as she walked in, head held high as she had been taught. It was dinner time, and Catherine was actually pretty hungry. She turned down the hall, and moved into the large and gorgeous dining hall. But what she noticed as soon as she walked near the student body was...they were still whispering.

Catherine tried to ignore it as she got her food, subtly waving a hand for her knight to get some too, since now she wasn’t at all sure if he really knew anything he was supposed to be doing, but the whispering kept swirling. She noticed many of the students were behind closed hands, whispering something or other. It wasn’t unusual for the groups to do this, but it was normally one, maybe two with their stupid little diabolical schemes. This was everyone, on a much more massive scale. Catherine did manage to sit, and she even made it through the first bun before she finally snapped when the stares were all directed between Meph and her. Standing, she slammed the cup on the table, which got their attention, and when she had it, in her most commanding voice, asked one question ; “What is everybody whispering about?!”

Meph followed his orders perfectly. He stayed just behind her right shoulder, two steps behind, regardless of the crowdedness of the hallways. People bounced off him when they weren’t paying attention. He never felt more than the slightest bump, but some of them fell down. Well, only two fell down, and both of them had been trying to shoulder check him as they passed. Meph barely looked back when he heard the thump of someone hitting the ground, they weren’t his concern. Catherine never reacted to the antics happening behind her, and Meph never mentioned them. Seems not talking had advantages for the Princess; if he didn’t talk, he didn’t complain. Any other knight would have been offended and gone on a tirade. Meph just kept walking.

There was no way for him to know a storm was brewing because of his appearance. Every step he took behind Catherine came looks, gasps, gawks, and whispers from the students around her. Meph had been an active participant in the war. First soldier in, last soldier to leave. He had dealt the most fatal of blows on the battlefield and had the most blood on his hands. He had struck down lives without fear of retribution. He knew he was killing fathers, brothers, sons, wives, mothers, sisters, daughters, and the like but it is what he had been ordered to do. He never thought he would be faced with the aftermath of his killing sprees. But, walking these halls, seeing the fear, hate, anger, and sadness in some of their eyes let Meph know he was amongst those who felt the full weight his is death blows and were suffering their affect.

For this reason, mainly, he remained out of the classrooms. He didn’t need to distract them from their lessons. He was sure it was hard enough for the students to know he lurked in their halls, let alone standing at the back of the room they were in. He stayed close to the door though, listening to ensure no one took their anger out on Catherine. At least, that was how it started. He was listening to ensure that she had peace, and the repercussions of his acts were not going to fall on her. But as he listened the lesson began, and he was so enthralled he couldn’t stop listening. The material gripped him and made him curious. He absorbed the entire lesson and was a bit disappointed when it ended before he was really ready for it too; he still had questions.

Catherine exited with her classmates and Meph followed her to the next class. The looks, whispers, anger didn’t stop. It escalated, if anything. But the Princess got safely to each of her classes and Meph listened to each one, taking in the material and storing it for future use. What he needed with this information, he had no idea; he just wanted it. He was fascinated by the topics, the logic, the thought processes. The topics weren’t that much different than when they had been in strategy meetings. If there was one thing that Meph was superior at, it was strategy. Though he had never been given credit for his talents. He was waiting for her by the door when the final class of the day ended. She appeared to have been plotting something rather than paying attention to her classes for the moment they were free, she had him follow her up to her room. He waited in the hallway while she changed and spoke to her handmaid. Then they left the school together. Meph’s hand rested on the hilt of the sword that was strapped to his waist, ready to pull it at the first hint of trouble. His gray eyes swept the street, looking for trouble. But none came and soon enough she was leading him into a tailor’s shop.

The people in the shop seemed to be well acquainted with the Princess and they bowed properly; that didn’t make Meph any more relaxed, though. People would stab you in the back while smiling in your face. He assumed she had come to pick up something for herself so you can imagine Meph’s surprise when he was the one standing on the raised platform in the middle of the shop. He shouldn’t have been surprised, the Princess had made it clear she thought he looked ridiculous, but he wasn’t used to this. Discomfort was evident in his body language as he looked around at the bolts of cloth on the walls, the sewing tools, and the overall set up. Meph wasn’t one to drop his guard, he was used to war, and always on edge. So, when the tailor approached him from behind with a tape measure, something Meph had never seen before in his life, the only thing that made sense was that someone was attacking him.

In a swift moment, Meph had knocked the tailor’s hands away from his person and had him pinned to the wall. Meph’s thick forearm was pressed against the tailor’s neck as he drew one of his twin axes from his belt. Just as the tailor was starting to go from red to blue, Catherine intervened. She stood so close to him, practically getting between himself and the tailor, that Meph caught the flowery scent of her for the first time. His stern eyes, so focused on the tailor, shifted to look at her at her. She showed no fear in her expression or stance. Her words calmed him for it was plain what the tailor had been about to do was a normal practice. Meph’s eyes never left Catherine’s has he first released the pressure on the tailor’s throat, allowing him to breathe. Then Slowly. Very slowly. Meph lowered the axe and placed it back into its sheath on his lower back. The respect he held for his Princess was evident and he obeyed her words, even if it was a progression. He did calm down over the course of the next few minutes, assured by Catherine she wouldn’t allow harm to come to him.

Once the tailor started explaining to Meph ahead of time what was about to be done and what to expect, Meph’s body language changed. He no longer fought but allowed the tailor to take his measurements. Meph followed directions well but seemed to look to Catherine quite a bit when he felt unsure about something. Nothing seemed to bother her, so Meph didn’t let anything bother him. The tailor went to his table and started to construct clothes for the massive warrior while they waited. Meph could stand for days and not be bothered. He wasn’t much of a fidgeter either. Where some people were purely incapable of standing still, they would need to rock back and forth, or pace, or shift around, Meph just stood like a statue. There was lots of activity going on to Meph’s right where the tailor danced about with sheets of cloth and chatted quietly with his assistants. Before too very long the tailor had informed Meph he would need to disrobe so the new clothes could be put on so adjustments could be made. The tailor was about to ask Catherine if she wished to step out, but before the tailor had gotten the full statement out to Meph, he started removing his clothing. It wasn’t much to take off and he was completely nude before anyone could realize he was removing his clothes.

He stood on the raised platform as if he was on display, his clothes tossed to the side of where he stood. He was a sight to behold. A little on the dirty side, it was clear he was in need of a bath, but otherwise, Ares, eat your heart out. His skin was a golden bronze, like he spent all day, every day in the sun without a stitch of clothing on. Some of his flesh looked as smooth as silk, like if you brushed it with your fingers it would shimmer. He would have been considered gorgeous if it weren’t for the scars. They littered his body as they stood out against the perfect color of his skin. Some scars were pink, puckered, and still appeared to be healing. While others looked like they were just a different texture of his skin. They were everywhere, literally everywhere. His back seemed to be nothing but layers of scars upon scars. There were scars on both his ass cheeks, on the backs of his thighs, his shoulders, and arms.

Catherine made a noise when she noticed him with no clothes, but he didn’t understand that was what made her gasp. He thought it might have been something else and turned to face her, not realizing he was fully exposing his front to her. His body reacted to the potential danger as his muscles seemed to coil like a snake about to strike. His arms and legs tensed, and his core tightened so every individual muscle could have been counted on him. When he realized there was no danger he relaxed slowly, giving her a full view of him. There were small diamond shaped scars on his pectoral muscles where arrows had pierced through his armor. There were slash marks, possibly more whip and lash marks but more likely blade cuts, that swept across his torso.

The only part of him that had appeared to have never been touched was his groin region. Here there were no scars. What little hair that grew was blonde and baby fine, hiding nothing from the staring eyes. The flesh was baby pink, like it was brand new, completely virgin skin. It was the only part of him not affected by battle or the normal celebrations that occurred afterward. This part of him was pure, and possibly intimidating. There was nothing small about Meph and his length and girth were proportionate to his body mass. It was quite a bit longer than an average male’s, pushing the seven-inch mark with no erection. The girth was just as overwhelming as the length. Marcus couldn’t hold a candle to Meph in any way, but maybe that would make Meph more terrifying to her.

The tailor and his assistants had all stopped what they were doing to stare at the man, now nude in the shop. One of the assistants had dropped the box of needles, threats, buttons, and the likes onto the floor as she beheld Meph’s form. It was clear she was taken by him, naughty thoughts played obviously on her flushed cheeks. The tailor snapped at her, and her fixed gaze was pulled away from Meph and back to her work. They began fitting Meph with his clothes then, the pants being put on him first so he would no longer be so revealing. They had made a few adjustments, which Meph allowed without hurting anyone. Though he kept a close eye on them as they hemmed the material and tried not to stab him. A shirt was pulled over his head next, which fit him perfectly, and then his tunic. When they were finished with him, he actually looked like a knight was supposed to. Catherine put in orders for more clothes for him as they now had his measurements to be ready by the end of the week. The clothes he had on should last him a few days. Catherine then led Meph out of the tailor shop and back up to the school. It was dinner time, and she was expected.

Meph was given food when they arrived in the dining hall, and he was shown where he was supposed to sit by another knight. One of the university guards, it seemed. Meph took the food and sat down at a small table where Catherine would be in his direct sight, but he wouldn’t be close enough to intrude upon her bonding time with her classmates. They were all whispering a chattering when Catherine sat down, clearly it was more of the same from earlier.

Meph ate his food quickly, leaving nothing on the plate. He didn’t touch the glass of wine they had given him, as he had never tasted wine before and didn’t know if he would like it. He had smelled wine before, mostly when the real knights had vomited it up onto the ground, but it never appealed to him. With his dinner consumed, he rose pushed his chair back from the table so he could be at the Princess’ side in seconds if she needed him, which he was starting to think she might. What he observed was a boy, about sixteen years old, stand up in front of Catherine, point at Meph and yell, “Him!” All eyes turned to Meph, including the young man who spoke. Jeffery was his name. He was an Earl’s son. Meph had raided their kingdom maybe a year or so ago. Apparently, this boy remembered. “This man is a murderer! He has killed someone attached to each family that sits in this dining hall and yet he sits here among us and we are supposed to accept that?” Jeffery moved across the dining hall towards Meph, hate and revenge in his eyes. “Do you deny it, peasant? Do you deny you killed my uncle with your axes? Do you deny that you murder for sport? That there is nothing honorable about the way you chop people down like they were as lowly as you, PEASANT?” He spit the word ‘peasant’ at Meph like it was supposed to wound him. Meph hadn’t moved through all of this. His body showed no stress, and his expression was still peaceful. The moment Jeffery moved away from Catherine and Meph could be certain she was in no danger; he had nothing to worry about. Meph’s eyes shifted from the accusatory young Earl before him to Catherine, who seemed to want to know the answer to the question as well. Meph’s violet-gray eyes shifted back to Jeffery as he swallowed hard. In his low, gentle way he said, “I do not.” Meph’s admission to the accusations came as a surprise to Jeffery who expected he was going to be able to hold a little mock trial for Meph, highlighting his deeds. But with Meph’s plea of guilty Jeffery had nothing left to argue. This infuriated him even more as Meph confirmed he killed Jeffery’s uncle practically in sport. Jeffery grabbed the full goblet of wine from the table and threw it in Meph’s face.

The wine hit him just as his eyes closed. The deep burgundy liquid splashed and dripped down onto his brand-new clothes, staining and ruining them. Meph’s eyes opened to see Jeffery pulling a dagger from his belt and threatening Meph with it. “I challenge you.” It was clear to Meph that Jeffery was acting from rage and not logic. If this was his family’s temperament, no wonder if seemed like he chopped them down for sport. Passionate people were easy to kill, they left logic behind in fights. “I challenge you, peasant. You don’t deserve to breathe another breath.” Even with the point of a dagger inches from his face, Meph’s eyes shifted to seek out his Princess. He found her and she appeared to be in a state of shock. But she nodded at him, and he took that as her giving him permission to accept. “I’ll be in the courtyard,” was all Meph said as he stood up, obviously not worried about the dagger close enough to pierce him and walked out of the dining hall.

The story of the challenge spread through the university like wildfire. Every servant in the building was either in the courtyard or hanging out of a window. Jeffery appeared with a hoard of other young men around him, egging him on and talking him up. Meph was standing in the courtyard as if he was on a battlefield. In his mind, he had been transplanted back onto the muddy field at the foggy dawn. He gripped his axes in his hands, obvious blood stains were visible on the leather of the handles. His eyes locked on Jeffery and never left him, this boy was his target. He waited patiently for Jeffery to ready himself. Meph could smell his fear. He saw it in the boy’s body language and in the quivering of his lower lip. But a challenge had been made and accepted and Meph would bring no shame to his Princess.

He knew she was near, his Princess. He felt her gaze on him, it was heavier than the others. He knew she was watching and judging him. Deciding for herself if he was an animal or a man. It was then that Jeffery started running at him with a sword in both his hands. Meph watched how awkwardly Jeffery ran and understood that the sword was too heavy for him, it was throwing him off balance. He lifted both his axes to shoulder level and threw them at the ground. Both axe blades stuck deeply into the ground as if he meant to come get them later. Meph then drew his own sword and readied himself. Jeffery closed the distance between them quickly and threw himself at Meph, it was the only way he could swing the sword effectively. Meph easily side-stepped the swing and Jeffery nearly fell forward. Jeffery had to run a few paces and set the tip of the sword on the ground to balance himself before he turned around and tried again. He turned around and swung randomly at Meph, who had no trouble dodging out of the way. Jeffery's technique was awful, and he projected his attack before he made them. It was simple for Meph to avoid the sword blade. Apparently, the way Meph was evading him was comical as people from the crowd started laughing.

Jeffery kept swinging and missing, only to overcorrect and miss Meph again. It wasn’t until Jeffery was attempting a lunge at the large man that he did something right. It was completely on accident, but he had achieved his goal all the same. Jeffery had been trying to lift the sword over his head in an attempt to bring it down on Meph’s head. Meph was in no danger of getting hit until Jeffery tripped over his own feet and brought the blade down onto Meph’s shoulder. The ruined tunic and shirt were sliced through as the blade buried into the tissue and muscle. Meph dropped his sword and grabbed Jeffery by the throat and lifted him off the ground, holding him with his legs dangling as he dug the sword out of his shoulder. He threw the sword on the ground as he felt his blood running down his front and back. He placed Jeffery on the ground, his massive hand still around the boy’s throat. “Learn from your history, boy. I chopped down your uncle. I am spearing you. Think about where mercy comes from and how some are forced to follow orders to the end.” Meph then punched him in the face as he released his throat. Blood exploded out of Jeffery’s nose and mouth as he hit the ground unconscious.

Meph stepped away from Jeffery and picked up his sword. He sheathed it and walked over to where he had thrown his axes into the dirt. He pulled them both free and tucked them into his belt at the small of his back. He turned his head to look at the wound on his shoulder and saw the deep slice and the bone beneath. His eyes then searched the crowd for his Princess. When he found her, he approached silently. He wasn’t sure if she was going to scold him, yell at him, run from him. He only bowed his head to her, ready to receive whatever she wished to hurl at him.

The one, and probably only thing that Catherine could appreciate about Meph was the fact that he didn’t really talk. This allowed her thoughts to simply flow throughout the day, and it allowed the space for her to take in everything that was going on around them. She was still far too angry to actually do anything about it, or really react, but she noticed. She noticed their whispers, their pointing, their staring. She just didn’t care. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She did care, and she wanted to know exactly what they were on about. What the hell they might be lipping off about. It couldn’t have been the presence of a Knight, as sometimes, her knights were replaced for various reasons. Her last two had just been her longest, but they certainly weren’t the first. She was angry throughout her classes, and this did make it hard to listen as her mind was between what in the world they were whispering about, and how to punish her father for keeping her under what she considered, lock and key. The strangest part of this was that nobody was actually coming up to talk to her about whatever was going on, and it honestly made her feel a little excluded, and a lot annoyed.

This would be doubled in thought at the tailor shop, naturally when he tried to kill the tailor, but what happened after that temporarily made all of Catherine’s thoughts leave her head. When Meph disrobed as quickly as he did, she gasped without actually meaning too. First, because of how heavily scarred he was. That was the immediate thing she noticed, and she couldn’t help but wonder who had done this to him. The thought of horror flooded her mind as she looked at them, but the sound from her had made him turn, which fully exposed him to her. Unable to help it, her eyes widened as she saw him on full display, and honestly for half a second, wondered if he had an erection. When she realized that he didn’t, she turned as far too many thoughts started to collide in her head. The first being, wow. He was the biggest she had ever seen. She also wasn’t the only one who noticed, as she heard the assistant drop the box of threads and needles, and suppressed a smile when the tailor snapped at her.

His groin area was the only area on him that was pure. The only area that looked like it had never been touched. So why did her little mind start drumming up fantasies of what it might be like? A part of her did feel bad because of Marcus, but at the same time, how could she not be curious? Did it get bigger when he got excited? Or was that as big? Even if it was, he was still crazy impressive. She didn’t necessarily put the thoughts out of her mind, but she did turn back as he was redressed. It was lucky she hadn’t been looking at him all day, because she wasn’t quite sure she could right now. This made her somewhat more grateful for the fact he was silent, because she wasn’t at all sure what the answer to any question might be.

On the way back, a part of her did start to consider her Knight. Not only what she had seen in the shop, but just him in general. He was so unlike any other Knight she had ever met. These thoughts occupied her as she returned to the school, and made her distracted as she got her dinner. She looked over towards Meph to make sure that he got food too before she went to sit down. Of course, the whispering, the wondering, the behind closed hands was still present, and it irritated the Princess to the point of demand. However, the answer she received was not one she expected. Jeffery, a young son of an Earl, started to shout, and point at her Knight. Before the question could leave Catherine’s mouth, Jeffery went on to offer a screamed explanation as to what everybody was whispering about. Catherine’s big brown eyes blinked in confusion, and irritation, looking over at Meph and back at Jeffery as the teenager turned his rage on Meph.

Peasant. Murderer. Kill for sport. A lot of accusations flew in short minutes, and it took Catherine by surprise. What took her even more by surprise was when, in the silence after Jeffery’s accusation, her knight first looked at her, and then Meph did not deny it. Before Catherine could step, talk, move, take any control, Jeffery picked up the full goblet of wine and threw it at her Knight. This pissed Catherine off as she watched the liquid stain and ruin the clothes she literally just had made for him. Her mouth opened for a moment when Jeffery’s very stupid challenge hit the air. Catherine closed her mouth, her jaw set and her eyes narrowed on Jeffery. ’What an absolute idiot,’ Catherine thought as she watched Jeffery try and use a dagger in any form acceptable. But his challenge was issued, and it left Catherine in somewhat of an awkward place.

On the one hand, Meph was not the one who issued the challenge. Catherine also recognized the fact that Meph was a giant compared to...well, most of them, which meant he had the potential to crush Jeffery like a bug. On that same note, if the rumours that her fellow students were talking about were indeed true, and Meph had indeed done what they accused him of, she did not see this ending well for Jeffery. However, due to the pure and simple fact that Meph was not the one who issued the challenge, when Meph sought out Catherine’s gaze, her head nodded subtly for him to accept. And accept he did. The instant he did and turned completely, Catherine got the innate pleasure of watching the colour drain from Jeffery’s face. Catherine tried not to smile at the absurdity of the situation, and cleared her throat, which gained their attention. “Well, my good sir. Your challenge awaits. Best not to keep him waiting.” Still, Catherine was the first one who actually stepped out, leading the student body behind her.

Just before the doors, the student body separated, and filed their way onto the courtyard. Catherine’s eyes moved to Meph, and she noticed an immediate change. He was no longer the soft or sweet solider she had seen, even if she had no way of knowing he was either. But his eyes. His eyes were nearly completely different, hard and ready for war. She couldn’t see the colour from where she stood, but she could see the changes. His body was prepared, seeming to swell in size, standing in a battle stances, with his axes in either hand. Catherine studied him as she walked to one side, with the women who would definitely be her future court. Catherine, unlike them, did not speak. She only watched. Inside her mind, though, she was sweating. If Meph killed this idiot, she would have an even bigger spectacle on her hands. She also realized that there was a high chance that she was about to witness a murder on the grounds. If Meph did indeed kill Jeffery, then that would just prove the student body right. If, on the other hand, Meph by any chance lost, which didn’t seem likely, but if he did, and to Jeffery of all people, they both would be the laughingstock of the school. These twin consequences ran through Catherine’s mind as she watched Jeffery attempt to retain any type of cool in the situation. For just a moment, Catherine’s eyes went to Darius standing on the other side, who was eating this up. Catherine’s vision turned to a glare, which only made him smile and infuriated her further, before she looked back at Meph, her gaze upon him heavy and focused.

When she did, she saw Jeffery begin to run towards Meph. Outwardly, Catherine gave no reaction, and this was in purpose of not giving the other side the satisfaction. Inwardly, she was worried in all kinds of ways. It was very obvious that Jeffery didn’t know what he was doing, something most of the student body already knew, as he clumsily attempted to swing an all too heavy sword up. Meph then raised his axes to shoulder level, and she got the strange pleasure of watching him doubly throw the axes into the ground, as if he was meant to come back to them at some point. Something about the act would stick in Catherine’s mind, but for now, she focused on the fight....if one could really call it that. The comical moves that Jeffery made with Meph simply side-stepped with his sword in his hand caused a small course of laughter to ring out from the students. Swing and a miss went Jeffery, over and over until even Catherine thought she could do a better job than this ridiculous display. Unfortunately, that was right when Jeffery finally managed a lucky shot. A very lucky shot from where she stood, as she watched Jeffery’s feet tumble and stumble over themselves.

She watched in minor horror as the blade came down, worried for a moment it was to come down on his head, as that was where it had been aimed, but had about an equal reaction when it sliced into Meph’s shoulder. She didn’t realize then how deep the cut was, as collectively, the student body nearly leaned in when Meph gripped Jeffery by the throat, and lifted him straight off the ground. Anyone watching would then get to see the trickle of urine that came quickly from Jeffery’s dangling feet, something that almost made Catherine smile. In a moment, while still holding Jeffery above him, Meph dug the sword out of his shoulder, making a few of the ladies in the crowd wince or gasp. Catherine still stood stone-faced. They all watched Meph lay Jeffery on the ground, and once again, Catherine was worried what the next step might be. But nothing brutal happened, except Meph breaking Jeffery’s nose. Considering she was pretty sure Meph could’ve broken Jeffery’s entire face, she was willing to take that as the win.

She breathed very lightly when Meph then stepped away without killing him. She watched her Knight as he retrieved his axes, and walked towards her. For the first time as he approached, she actually saw his eyes. They took her like the stormy colour they were. They were.....beautiful. Despite the quick thought, however, she revealed nothing to him as her eyes left his and moved to the once again ruined tunic. Blood soaked through it, staining it as the wine did. She still hadn’t realized the extent of the wound, but she could easily see he was bleeding, and letting him bleed out on the lawn did not seem like the thing to do. She stepped towards him, the Royal in her proud that he had won. She slightly nodded in that acknowledgment before she turned and walked back through the student body, who stayed separated and silent on either side. It wasn’t until the two had passed that the whispers started once more. She could do nothing of them so currently, she ignored it. She led Meph back upstairs, where Hannah already seemed quite informed of the situation in the courtyard. Catherine asked Hannah as the two gathered medical supplies if she could distract Meph, because Catherine needed to go see Marcus. Hannah didn’t exactly like the idea, especially as the order was “however you see fit to keep him.” While Hannah did her best to follow that order, Catherine grabbed a cloak, and as quietly as she could when she thought the Knight was distracted, she slipped back out of the room alone.

Quickly, the Princess fled the school, taking the shortest trail from her room to the door, and out across the grounds. She kept looking around, but she never saw him behind her, so she thought she was safe when she finally made it to the bar. She moved up the stairs, and to the usual room that she and Marcus got for their nights together. He was already there when Catherine slipped in, and she sighed in relief when she turned and saw him. They went to each other immediately, with Marcus taking her face in his hands, and hers gripping to his chest. “Oh, my darling. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” This was the first questions he asked her, checking her as if he really was concerned. Catherine nodded as she pulled him closer, needing his touch. “No. I’m fine, Marcus. I’m just....irritated. I can’t understand what’s happening today.” She told him as she stepped slightly back to take off her cloak to hang on the chair. She paced as she finally let out the emotions she felt today. ”I cannot understand why my father would do this. Surely, you’ve heard the rumours?” Catherine turned her honey-brown gaze on Marcus, who nodded. “I have. I didn’t see the fight itself, but all staff heard about it. And the rumours, Catherine.”

Catherine threw her hands up, exhausted by this entire situation already, turning to pace. “Of course you have. I’m sure it’ll be in town before long. That’s just going to lead to even more speculation, especially if the rumours prove true.” Catherine ran her hands through her hair as she turned to face him again. “And have you seen the way he dresses? It’s completely ridiculous! And even insulting! God, it’s like my father took the worst dressed person and decided to match him out infront of the castle. And what of the—“ In the middle of Catherine’s rant, Marcus moved to her, and silenced her rant by kissing her. She made a soft noise as his kiss settled her raging brain. It was deep, passionate and hot. “What was that for?” She whispered as he pulled back a few minutes later. Marcus smiled softly as his thumb moved over her cheek. “You look like you needed it. He smiled as he kissed her again, slowly. “I know you’re worried. I know you’re frustrated. I can hear that beautiful mind all the way over here. And you can tell me...all about it...” He moved behind her, his mouth moving down from her ear as he whispered into it, down her neck and shoulder as he slowly undid the strings on her dress. “While I take care of you.”

This process normally took hours, that the two indulged in each other. Catherine did talk for a little while, telling Marcus of their day, the students reactions, a...slightly modified version of the tailor shop. All of it. At least until he started to really touch her. When he did, her mind finally switched off, and her hands started to get busier. She popped the buttons on his pants, and ran her hand over what was thickening. When she did, she had the strangest and most intrusive thought of her Knight. The length and girth of him was buried in her mind, but...Marcus didn’t have to know that. Marcus knew Catherine’s body well, which meant that he did know how to get her where she needed to go. But just after he laid her down, and got himself into position between Catherine’s legs, the act was interrupted by a knock on the door. At first, Catherine wanted to ignore it, Marcus indulged in her body while her Knight ran periodically through her mind, but then came the second knock. Marcus let out a breath as he looked from Catherine to the door, and back again. “Don’t go anywhere.” He whispered as he leaned down to kiss her, before he got up and slid his pants on. Catherine covered herself with a blanket as Marcus went to the door, popping it open to reveal a very nervous, rather scared looking bartender.

“I’m...I’m so sorry to interrupt, my lord.” The male started respectfully, then cleared his throat. “But I’m afraid the Princess is required downstairs. There is a man claiming to be Her Majesty’s guard, but he is....” As he paused, Catherine’s head turned as if to hear better. Marcus waited patiently at the door until the bartender said; “Bleeding. Fairly heavily. He did not ask for help, nor is he accepting help. We did not know what to do.” It was clear that the bartender was nervous but Marcus was the gentleman he had the reputation of being. “I will inform the Princess. She shall decide what she wishes.” The bartender nodded curtly, made a slight bow and moved back down the stairs, while in the room, Marcus closed the door, and turned to Catherine, who was almost seething. “He’s here? Bleeding?! I told Hannah....Never mind.” Now, she was really angry as she slid off the bed to try and put her dress back on. “I do believe he is determined to upset me.”
Stepping up to help her, Marcus straightened and tied the strings, sighing lightly as he realized he wasn’t having sex tonight. At least, not with Catherine. For now, he played the dutiful boyfriend as he said; “You must speak to your father, Catherine. Plead your case. Be ruthless. This man doesn’t deserve the honour of guarding the most beautiful and amazing princess ever to grace the earth.” Catherine leaned into him for a moment as he finished. She looked back up at him, but didn’t currently acknowledge what he said. Instead, she simply said; “Come to me tomorrow. I’ll leave the window unlocked.” Quite a few kisses later, Catherine slipped her cloak back on, and left the room.

Every step she took away from the room, her body hot, her mind needy, but her emotions in fire, made her step heavier until she could only be described as stomping down the hallway and stairs. She can down the stairs fast enough that her shoes nearly sounded like tapping on the stairs, but somehow managed to not trip over her dress as she did so. Down the long stairs, the angry princess came, her eyes searching for barely a moment before she saw her Knight. Indeed, he was bleeding, his chest covered in blood. He was pale, an obvious sign of blood loss that Catherine did recognize, but it was something between frustrated and rage when she looked at him, her voice when she spoke sharp and demanding. “You couldn’t at least let Hannah have cleaned you up first?!”

The battle ready had melted from his body with each step he took away from the fight. That is just how Meph was. When it was time to fight, he was ready. But when it was time to stop, he never had a problem. The desire to continue the battle never lingered in him. As soon as the order to put his weapons away was given, they were away. This was usually his reflection time. His time for prayer. But this was the very first time, outside of training, he had walked away from a fight without killing. It was an odd sensation but a welcomed one. Yes, Jeffery’s nose was very broken. He would be sporting a crooked nose and two blackeyes for a few weeks. Meph didn’t think he had broken any of Jeffery’s teeth. Blood had expelled from his mouth, but that might have been from his nose as well. Meph was sure he would hear about it from someone. As he closed the distance between himself and his Princess, he gave himself permission to glace up at her. He was careful not to look her in the eyes; he knew he was too lowly for that. His stormy violet-grey eyes touched her face, and she didn’t look furious.

Meph wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he was going to receive from Catherine. He was prepared to be berated right there for all to see. He had probably just embarrassed her in front of all her peers, or had he? He had given him permission to accept the challenge. He had caused the school’s population to laugh at Jeffery. He had won the fight, and he hadn’t killed her schoolmate. Meph hoped she would see this as a victory for her. As he got closer to her, and her eyes came into focus her expression made sense to him. Annoyance. She was looking at his ruined clothes. Meph’s eyes dropped to look no higher than the hem of skirts. She had just bought him these clothes, and, because of his past actions, they were ruined within hours. She might berate him for the fight, but she very might for destroying the clothes.

He stopped walking when he saw her step towards him. His head was already in a slight bow, since he was looking no higher than the hem of her skirts. He watched as he turned and when she began walking back towards the school, he was instep behind her. His eyes raised then, ready to spot any threat that might come her way. The student body parted the way for Catherine as she proudly walked directly through the largest mass of them. Her stride and stance was proud. Meph rested the hand of his injured arm on the hilt of his sword, hoping that propping it up would take some of the pressure off his shoulder. No tear fell from his eye. No look of pain showed on his face. As his eyes darted around, assessing attitudes, it was clear that Meph, even injured, would fight again if he had to. Some of the haughtier nobles in the crowd began to whisper, but it was no longer the condescending whispers. They were whispers of envy. “Why can’t I have a knight like that?”

Meph heard nothing of the whispers. He could never think of himself as something to be coveted by anyone but a warlord. He had always been told he was useless anywhere but the battlefield. How many times the General had said, “If you weren’t so damn good at killing, Peasant, I would just leave you here to rot.” That was the closest to praise he had ever received from the General his entire life. If Meph had heard the new whispers he doubted they would have affected him. He had only done what his instincts had told him to do. The entire purpose of the fight was to keep Catherine’s pride intact. He cared nothing for himself.

He followed her through the school. The path up to her rooms was becoming more familiar to him. As they walked, he paid attention to landmarks and counted pictures, hallways, and turns. If he ever needed to get to her fast, he wanted to know exactly how to get there. They arrived in her rooms and Catherine’s handmaiden was already standing ready in the room. Meph had every intention of staying in the hallway, as it was proper for a man to enter a lady’s chamber, especially a princess. To his surprise he was commanded to come inside as his princess and her handmaiden got medical supplies together to tend to his wound. Meph stepped into the room, but stayed close to the door, feeling uneasy. Catherine whispered to her handmaiden, the two of them plotting something. Meph did not listen, but he knew something was happening.

The handmaiden approached Meph, Catherine was across the room, seeming to collect herself. Meph’s stormy grey eyes shifted from Catherine to the handmaiden. “My name is Hannah. May I take a look at your wound?” Hannah motioned for him to come into the room and take a seat in a wooden straight-backed chair by a small table. Meph did as instructed and sat down in the chair. His eyes swept the table. A bowl of water, sewing needles, thread, and cloth. He breathed in knowing this was going to hurt. Hannah stepped up to Meph, blocking his view of Catherine completely. Hannah took one of the white clothes in her hand and dipped it into the water. “I’m going to start with cleaning the blood off?” Hannah didn’t seem scared of him, but she moved very slowly. Meph assumed Catherine had told Hannah of his experience at the tailor’s. Just as the wet cloth was taken out of the water and laid upon his skin, Meph caught a glimpse of something. It was a swish of heavy material. Hannah was in the way. He couldn’t see exactly what was happening.

He felt the cool, wet cloth touch his skin and water mixed with blood, start to run down his chest. He wasn’t looking at his shoulder or paying attention to what Hannah was doing. His head was almost bowed, his eyes clothes, and his ears wide open. He heard the sound faint footfalls, like someone trying to sneak out of the room. When the click of the door latch was made, Meph’s eyes opened – his princess had snuck out of the room. Hannah tried to chat in a nonchalant way, but Meph caught the quiver in her voice. Like Hannah was purposefully trying to mask the actions of the princess’s getaway. “I watched the whole thing from the window. How did you know to get out of the way like you did?” Hannah’s efforts hadn’t worked. They might have worked on someone who was looking for a reason to talk or boast about the fight. However, that was not Meph’s way. Her question fell on deaf ears and it wasn’t two minutes after Catherine had closed the door behind her, thinking she had successfully evaded him, that he just stood up from the chair.

Hannah had been trying to clean him up before she started sewing up his wound, but as she turned to dip the cloth into the darkening pink water, Meph was on his feet. He didn’t say a word to Hannah, only headed for the door, opened it, stepped out into the hall, and closed it behind him. Meph went to the closest window and peered out into the darkening evening. The sun was still out, but it was starting to drop. He spotted a cloaked figure leaving the school and heading for the road to that lead to town. He watched her on the dirt road, she stayed to the right. He should be able to pick up a track and once he could recognize her footprint, he should be able to follow them. He watched her until she was out of sight. She never turned off of the dirt path and followed it directly into town. When she was out of sight, he moved away from the window and through the halls of the school. The students were still meandering about here and there. Meph heard whispers and gasps as they saw him, everything getting out of his way.

Meph left the school and headed for the dirt road. He found where her prints started on the dry ground. The dirt was loose enough that there was a detectable outline of her foot. He followed them, his eyes on the ground. He was confident in his on the dirt road as this is what he had been able to see from the window of the school. It was once he arrived in the town that he had to pay more attention. The roads here, while still dirt, had layers upon layers of traffic that he now had to see through. Luckily, since it was evening, the movement of the town’s people had lessened, and he was able to spot enough of her prints here and there to lead to the cobblestone that marked a small path from the road to the entry of a tavern. Meph’s eyes lifted from the ground and took in the establishment she had come to. Confused, Meph pushed open the door and stepped in. His eyes darted around in an attempt to locate her.

By this time, the wound on his shoulder, though not fatal, had been pumping out so much blood from his walk that his left arm had streams of blood, both drying and already dried creating little paths down his arm. His shoulder was completely covered in blood. And his tunic was so saturated, it hung off his massive chest like a wet towel. The white shirt beneath the tunic had absorbed so much of the blood that the little of the white that could have been seen was a deep red. Meph’s face was pale, and getting paler, but the words of the king ran through his head: ’Well, she is a difficult girl. Keep her safe regardless of the mischief she might get into.’ Meph was starting to understand the king’s statement now.

Meph, feeling slightly dizzy, took a seat at the table closest to the door. He sat so he could see the entire room and had a full view of the staircase. The proprietor of the tavern approached Meph timidly, “Pardon me, my lord,” he said as he twisted a rag between his hands. Meph looked away from the stairs towards the proprietor, “I’m no lord, good sir. I am just a guard.” The proprietor was shocked at the soft spoken manner of the large, bloody man. And had to take a moment to understand. “Oh, you mean the Princess?” Meph’s eyes narrowed at the proprietor when he mentioned the Princess. The propriate sensing the change in Meph said quickly, “She comes here a few nights a week. We used to be on quite good terms with her last guards.” Meph’s expression did not change. His look was hard, untrusting. “W…w…would you like an… an ale?” Meph’s took in an audible breath and turned away from the proprietor with a soft, “No.” The proprietor, still ringing the rag in his hands, “You…ah…seem to be…well, bleeding.” Again, Meph’s eyes shifted from the stairs to the proprietor. “Do...do..ddo…do ya need any help?” Meph looked away from the man and back to the stairs, he shook his head no . The proprietor made his way back to the bar and watched Meph for about ten minutes.

In those ten minutes, Meph’s eyes never left the stairs. He wavered a little in his chair, the lightheaded moments coming and going. He had been wounded much worse before in battle than he was now. He knew he would be fine, and it was this knowledge that kept him from giving in to the pull of sleep his body so desperately desired.

The proprietor, getting more and more nervous the longer he watched the huge guard practically bleed to death, made the decision to disturb the Princess. Meph watched him leave the bar and climb the stairs. He heard the knock and the proprietor’s voice, though he couldn’t make out all the was said. The proprietor came back down and went to work behind the bar. Meph’s eyes knew now which door to watch and, several minutes later, the Princess emerged and came down. The look on her face was almost murderous. Her tone was demanding and Meph rose, only to sit right back down. A dizzy spell had hit him so hard that it prevented him from standing up all the way. He sat, taking deep, slow breaths until the dizziness had subsided. He then tried to stand once more. He had to plant his hand firmly on the table to help him get fully to his feet, but once he was up, he was fine. He had nothing to say about Hannah cleaning him up. His job was to stay with her, even if it cost him his life.

Catherine was furious as she was interrupted and stormed out of the room and down the stairs. Not before kissing Marcus about half a dozen times, and making him promise to come see her the following night, of course. She let the anger grow with every step she took, her small delicate feet stomping down each step until everybody knew the Princess was angry. She berated him upon first reaching him, but when she looked up to see him unable to fully stand, a very tiny piece of her grew concerned. She blinked once as she processed what she was watching, but then all the anger that the 18-year old, spoiled, entitled Princess had boiled back up to the surface as he stood the second time.

She almost found she was too angry to speak, as her dark eyes tracked all around his chest, the blood seeping through the brand new clothes. Rage replaced the previous pride she had felt for him. As her eyes continued to travel over him, she also noticed that blood was starting to drip where he had been sitting. Her mouth opened, probably to start screaming, but she caught sight of all the people in the bar who were curiously looking at this unfolding scene. She made a very quick decision, and irritatingly knowing he would follow, she turned on her heel and stormed out.

She only let the rage brew until they were just far enough away from the tavern that nobody should hear them. She stopped suddenly, and turned to him with deadliness in her eyes. “I don’t know what I’m to begin with you, Knight.” Her eyes scanned him, and she started with the thing most annoying to her. “If you insist upon following me, then you will be properly dressed, and you will not be dripping blood everywhere while you do it. The way you present yourself is a direct reflection upon myself and my father, The King, and you will do well to remember this in future.” There was no question in her statement. It was to be understood and followed without question.

“The next time you decide to interrupt an activity that I am doing, especially if you have been hurt before, you will allow Hannah to at least clean and sew you up first, as to not embarrass me by bleeding all over a tavern.” That she wasn’t supposed to be in in the first place, but that was besides the point. “If you had, you would have been able to sit there, have an ale if you want, until I was finished without disturbing me.” She wasn’t sure if she was more irritated by the interruption or his appearance, but either way, her eye was twitching. “I do not appreciate having to stop what I am doing to tend to you. But as now I have too, you will follow me and return to the school, where you will sit and stay until Hannah has finished!”

Again, there was zero question as she gave her orders, and turned around again to finish stomping back to the school. If the Knight said anything, her anger and arrogance would not allow her to listen. She did occasionally look back at him every once in a while to make sure he hadn’t dropped yet, but when she saw him still behind her, she carried on and said nothing. Once in the school, she moved up the stairs, and to her rooms.

She burst into the door, allowing Meph in once more. The noise made Hannah jump. As friends as they were, an angry Catherine was a terrifying one sometimes, and the fact remains, Hannah worked for Catherine and her entire life was in her mercy. “Hannah!” Catherine snapped, which snapped Hannah to attention.

”Yes, Your Majesty?” She said without a quiver, even if her heart raced.

Catherine’s eyes turned to her, still holding that same deadliness. “Do you think it is possible for you to actually sew this Knight up this time, or is that out of your capabilities?”

Recognizing the tone, Hannah knew better than to argue. “Yes, Your Majesty.” The response was a curt nod before Catherine, with dagger eyes towards her Knight, stormed off into the bathroom, where there was no exit except back into the room.

When Catherine closed herself, by way of slamming the door, into the bathroom, Hannah let out a small breath, and turned to Meph. “You have really done it now, I’m afraid.” Hannah told him in reference to the angry Princess as she waved a hand to the chair he had been previously sitting at.

Meph followed at her right shoulder as he was supposed to. White spots flashed before his eyes every couple of steps, but he didn’t let this slow his speed or divert his attention from her. When she turned around to scold him his attention was still scanning the surrounding streets. They hadn’t moved too far from the tavern, and anyone could be lurking in the shadows. His injured state made her an even easier target for anyone wanting to cause harm. Through her angry words Meph heard her say something he had never heard anyone say before. He was a reflection on King Andrew Meph had never thought about that. He had never been a representative of anyone before. He had only ever been a tool to win battles. Meph felt a pang of insecurity. Was he doing this all wrong? Was he disappointing the king?

Her next words caused him to lift his stormy grey eyes to her face. He listened to her. He understood what she was saying to him and, to some degree, even could have agreed with her. Except that her father, King Andrew, specifically ordered him to keep her safe above all else. This was the order above all else that he was going to follow. The princess could order him away, but he wouldn’t go. She could try and sneak away from him, but he would catch her. His annoying her was less important to him than upholding the orders of his king. Meph had, unwillingly, given his youth to serving his King through killing. Now, he was willingly giving his life to protecting the future leader of their kingdom. Regardless of how much it irritated her, he would be there should danger come calling.

She finished what she needed to say to him, half of which he heard but dismissed, and when she started walking again, so did he. He was never more than two steps behind her shoulder. The gaping wound on his shoulder pulsed intensely with each beat of his heart, the wound oozing the blood out of him still. He was using the hilt of the sword that hung from his belt to rest his wrist on, taking some of the pressure off of his shoulder, but it wasn’t helping with the escaping blood. As they walked, the white spots grew more frequent, and his eye lids grew heavier. Worry was starting to seep into his lethargic mind.

He managed to stay conscious and stay with her all the way back to the school, up all the staircases, down all the hallways, and back into her private room. The princess snapped at Hannah and then disappeared into the bathroom. Meph’s attention wasn’t on Hannah until the princess was concealed in the bathroom. He had studied the hallways, and he was certain there was no door that led to her bathroom, leading him to believe that there was no way she could escape again. Only when he was certain she was not going to run did he turn his attention to Hannah and the chair that was waiting for him. He shuffled his large feet over to the chair and collapsed into it. It would be the first time he allowed his weakness to show.

His head was heavy and bobbed as he fought sleep but kept losing, even if it was only for a few minutes at a time. Hannah managed to clean his wound with clean water, she had thrown out the previous bowl of water that had already been turning a deep pink. This bowl had done the same in no time, but she did manage to clear away the blood, so the true gruesomeness of the wound was revealed. The blade had been a sharp one as the flesh and muscle had been filleted right down to the bone, the white showing clearly now that the blood was away. Meph’s head hung forward, his chin resting on his chest as Hannah began to sew.

Meph had been sewn up hundreds of times before. Half the time, as long as he could reach the injury, he would sew himself up so he wouldn’t take the attention of the healers away from the actual knights. But with this kind of wound, he would have had to visit the ladies and let one of them tend to him. Which was the only reason he sat now for Hannah and allowed her to stitch his flesh shut. Sleep crashed over his exhausted form, allowing her to doctor him without any interference from him. When she was finished, she would need to wake him. He was not a deep sleeper, a tig snapping would normally wake him up. However, on nights where he was gravely injured, it took some effort to wake him up.