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The knight had hunted the ogre queen for years. She had resisted the lures of the sorcerer of the Black Forest, defeated the Demon Rats of Fanghorn, restored the Crown of Malört.
She forsook family, kingdom, and comfort in her quest. She braved lakes of fire, survived a forest in which every tree was a sword adorned with razor leaves, and fought her way through countless caves infested with everything from ghosts to goblins to psychic ants.
(She lost to the ants. It was a good lesson in humility; it taught her that not every fight could be won, and really, to not approach everything as if it were a fight to begin with—a difficult lesson for knights in general, but especially hard for this knight in particular.)
At last, she reached the lair of the ogre queen, littered all about with the skulls of the vanquished. Each step of her warhorse's hooves kicked up puffs of bone dust. Poppies nodded as she passed. The knight stopped to pick a handful and braided them into her horse's mane.
She didn't know what would happen, and she had learned it was important to take her pleasures where she could. It pleased her to see poppies in her horse's mane.
The ogre queen knew she was coming, of course. The ogre queen knew everything that passed in her kingdom.
That, and the cloud of bone dust was visible for quite a distance.
The ogre queen came out alone, her tusked head held high, her dark green hair braided through with the fingerbones of her vanquished foes. Her battleaxe gleamed by her side. She wore no armor. She needed none.
The knight, covered in a chalky crust, raised her visor and coughed. The ogre queen looked at her with disdain.
"Hey there," said the knight. And then, belatedly: "Your Majesty."
"Ser Lenora," said the ogre queen.
"You can drop the 'Ser' and just call me Lenora, you know."
"You know," said the ogre queen, "I'd rather not. Look, just tell me why you're here so I can proceed to killing you."
"I, uh. Hang on, mind if I take this off?" The knight gestured at her helmet.
The ogre queen shrugged. "I don't care. Makes it easier to chop your head off."
The knight took her helmet off, shook out her sweaty hair, then blew out a breath. "First off, I came here to return the stuff you left at my place." She dug through her saddlebags until she found a sack that clanked softly when she pulled it out. The ogre queen's eyes widened.
"Are you shitting me?" the ogre queen hissed. "You came all this way to return—"
"Your shotput trophies, your favorite tortoiseshell combs, two bone necklaces, and your copy of the complete De Mortuis that you've probably replaced, but this one had all your notes."
The ogre queen shoved her face into her palm. "You travel a thousand leagues—"
"1,125 leagues, actually," said the knight.
"Fine, more than a thousand leagues, to, what—give me back my shotput trophies?"
"And also your personally annotated copy of De—"
"De Mortuis, yes—"
"And also to tell you I'm sorry."
The ogre queen stared at the knight. "Are you fucking with me right now?"
The knight turned pink. "No."
"What, you couldn't have sent a letter?"
The knight turned pinker. "Some apologies need to be made in person, all right?"
The ogre queen's eyes narrowed. The knight gulped. Courage, now, she told herself. She had come so far.
"I fucked up," she continued. "And I miss you. There's a you-shaped hole in my life since you left, and you were right to leave, but I want to...talk. Make amends."
"You're assuming making amends is possible," the ogre queen growled.
"I don't!" said the knight hastily. "But I want to try. If you're willing to, that is. No pressure! I figured, worst case scenario, you get your stuff back, and I go back home with a definite answer."
"No, worst case scenario I cut you into pieces and wear your fingerbones in my hair."
"That's a medium-case scenario, actually," said the knight, "because I'd at least have a hell of a fight before I go. And, uh. I'd get to be close to you again." She winced. "Was that weird?"
The ogre queen glared at the knight wordlessly for an eternity. Perhaps two. Actually, probably three. Then her face softened.
"Yes, that's a little weird." She snorted. The knight's heart made a happy leap at the familiar sound. "But that's why I liked you in the first place."
The ogre queen walked up to the warhorse and held out her hand. The knight handed over the bag. The ogre queen hefted it thoughtfully in her hand.
"I did miss my copy of De Mortuis," she said.
"I knew you would," said the knight.
"This doesn't make up for the shit you pulled."
"Absolutely not," said the knight, hope bubbling in her chest, effervescent and dizzying.
The ogre queen blew out another breath, then turned back to the knight and pointed a finger at her. "Fine, we can talk," said the ogre queen. "But this is not a promise."
The knight almost fell off her warhorse in relief. "I don't want a promise," she said. "All I want is a chance."
"Fine," said the ogre queen, her voice brusque, but the knight could hear the smile in it. "You have it. Another chance."