Work Text:
Shhhhrk.
The sound of the rag dragging across muddy metal fills an ambient forest, dancing with the rustle of the leaves and leaving a song in its wake. She hums a light tune and the chorus of birds sings with her, whistling in their content as if there hadn't been a fierce battle raging below them not just a little while ago.
She prides herself in such work, taking care of every inch of the metal, catching dents here and there as the polish works into the grooves. Her sword and satchel lay next to her perch of a ragged tree stump, no doubt freshly fallen; another casualty from the carnage that wreaked its home with no one to bear witness to its final moments.
The knight bears the insignia of the Rose on her back, wearing the symbol with pride for her kingdom and daring all who come across her to a challenge--one they know they have already lost. She runs the rag over the emblem, taking extra care into maintaining its magnificence.
The Renegade Knight of Roses is what they call her. She has many other titles--most notably that in which she has forsaken long ago, please kindly refrain from asking. Despite a tumultuous past, her loyalty lies with her new kingdom. Her liege bestowed the name upon her, and who was she if not endlessly indebted to Her Royal Highness for allowing a woman like herself to stay in her company?
The war between the two kingdoms had been raging for years. She'd never imagined herself in such a position, fighting for those she'd scorned in years past, all for a fleeting chance at rebirth. She brings her heart with her to battle, wears it on her sleeve, threatening those who wish to bring harm to her princess.
Her Royal Highness, the Princess Penelope, is a fierce yet kind woman, bringing her reverence everywhere she goes, being held in her subjects' highest esteem. She is the entire reason the knight can say she's alive today. In return, she would gladly charge into any battle for her, fight in her name and bring her kingdom to glory until the day she laid waste on the earth.
The wind wisps fast across her face, momentarily distracting her from her task and bringing her back to the present. A quick look up allows her the sight of an arrow lodged into the tree adjacent to her.
Confused, as there's been no such ornament there before, she puts her cloth down and stands, sword at the ready. She listens for a rustle in the bushes, the sound of another breathing, waiting on a cue that tells her to jump to action. No such thing comes.
Minutes pass, and the knight gives up her investigation. She moves herself to a rock nearby, keeping her eyes and ears sharp for fear of other movement around her.
Perhaps the arrow was a rogue, a fight occurring distant from here lending the archer's poor aim to her clearing. Shall she investigate it then...? The satchel, holding her rations and a dagger, remains slumped by her previous post.
Moving to gather her remaining belongings, she hears a rustle in the bushes, so faint that she almost mistakes it for the slight breeze. She turns, sword brandished, and as if in slow motion comes face to face with the sight of another arrow headed right towards her.
She has no time to react, no time to raise her weapon to give an attempt to throw the projectile off course. It lodges into her side, and she chokes out a gasp.
She moves a shaky hand to the wound. It comes back with her blood, shining a violent red in the spring sun.
And then, all she can feel is burning.
The knight staggers before crashing to her knees and curling into herself as much as her wound would allow, letting out an agonized scream.
Breathing deep and fast, she retches, but nothing comes up. Her forehead is painted with sweat, one hand grips the grass while the other latches onto a tree for balance. She trembles, letting herself fall to her good side, clenching her eyes shut against the agony that she so wishes to rid herself of. If only she could get up, make it to the palace, alert the other guards--but she can feel her energy seeping out of her through a wicked red that her hand tries to put pressure on, but it's not enough. She prays that someone will find her before she succumbs to the enticing dance the darkness offers.
-
She runs through the long hallway, cape billowing behind her, her footfalls marked by the distinct clap of her shoes against the flooring, racing to the nearest gate. Many guards and servants stare after her, blissfully none get in her way.
Her palace, surrounded by lush forest, is quaint; perfectly sized for the royal who resides in it. Her private chambers were all of three stories above ground level, leaving her privy to the kind sounds of the forest she loved so much.
The battle was waged in the same forest today, and so she had heard all of the terrible sounds of war, swords clashing, bows pulled taut, yells of soldiers and sounds of death. Her personal guard had entered the battle, noble and vigilant as ever, promising she'll return to her. A promise she had made a thousand times over, keeping to her word every time. After the battle ended, she waited for her beloved Pearl to return as she always did. And then she heard a terrible cry echoing from the east end of the forest.
Her heart caught in her throat, frozen for only a second before she moved to clasp her cape around her shoulders and slip on her shoes before she burst from her room in a panic.
She reaches the gate and runs past the two guards dutifully standing beside it, taking off eastward in the direction of the sound,
She stumbles upon the scene, fresh tears beginning to well in her good eye as she takes in the sight before her. An abandoned satchel lay by a stump, alongside a newly polished chestplate. Her eyes scan the woods looking for her target, and she moves closer before hearing a small groan.
There Pearl lay, a gruesome sight: an arrow in her side, breaths shallow, covered in dirt and, what Penelope could only guess, her own blood. She lets out a cry, the tears spilling over at last as she makes her way over to her knight.
Penelope lifts Pearl's torso slightly, taking her into her hold to get a better look at her unsightly condition.
Pearl stirs, locking half lidded eyes with her princess's teary gaze. "Y-Your--"
Penelope interrupts her through her sobs. "Do not speak, Pearl. Please save your energy, please, you are wounded and must be tended to at once!"
Drawing in a shaky breath, grasping at the princess's cape, Pearl pleads. "Y-You need to run, your Royal Highness, it's not safe in the forest, y-you could be caught just as I--"
"No! You are wounded, not in your right mind, please save your strength, it does you no good to use it until you are cared for." Her tears flow down her cheek, falling onto Pearl's own face.
Pearl cannot argue, and she nods, closing her eyes again, leaving the princess to hastily wipe her tears and remove the rest of the armor before lifting Pearl into her arms, running back to the palace as quick as she's able.
-
Penelope requests among her immediate arrival to the gate that salve and bandages are brought to her chambers at once, stopping for no questions as she carries the other woman through the halls. A guard opens her door and she makes way to her far wall, all but dumping the knight onto the sheets and removing her shirt as the door opens to reveal a butler with her first aid tray.
Pearl is all but groaning in pain until the princess gets a vial of sedative down her throat, making her go limp to allow the princess to work.
As Pearl falls into sleep, she barely registers the delicate snap of wood before the arrow is pulled from her body in a quick motion, a harsh whimper leaving her lips before she falls asleep to the cool press of a dampened cloth against the wound.
-
She wakes to the song of birds outside the window, her dreamless sleep leaving her drowsy as she takes in deep breaths to come to awareness.
She feels a slight tension with a breath, bringing a hand to her side, pulling back when the touch stung. She looks down, memories of the previous day coming back to her, and sees her torso wrapped in cloth bandages. Further inspection gives her the sight of her liege, head laying near her thigh and her hand in the princess's. She's sat on a chair, a tray of medical supplies, seemingly used to dress her wound, next to her sleeping form. Her face was stained with dry tear tracks, and Pearl's heart aches for having been the source of her liege's pain.
The princess stirs, rubbing sleep out of her eye, and makes a glance at Pearl. She smiles, fresh tears coming to the surface.
Pearl breaks the momentary silence with a slight smile. "Your Royal Highness..."
The princess sits up and barrels into Pearl, clutching her tunic at the shoulders and sobbing.
"Please don't ever do that again."
Pearl embraces her in return and closes her eyes against the affection. "I make no promises..."
"Pearl."
"...I promise." She sighs. "You must understand that it is my duty to protect you."
"I know. So please protect me from a broken heart as fiercely as you protect me from enemies by protecting yourself in turn."
Penelope pulls back and looks Pearl in the eyes, tears still running down her face. "Please promise me this much."
Pearl softens, her voice a whisper as she brings the princess in for another embrace. "I promise."