Chapter Text
As the breeze blows,
As a lone knight passes,
As the poem goes..
Credit to Red & Flynn for the amazing artwork I reposted
“O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful—a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.„
The knight has a straightforward life; outside of war there was only training, running errands, beeing stripped away from humanity the further you step up; the further you fight for the king. Your fellows see a withering face. They all go to carry their duties and you see them wither before you instead and you wonder – just how fragile life is! Are your duties really as honourable as you've been told? Are they silently poisoned at their core? Is the modest farmer, within the fields you protect, happier?
But no no, you see, he's only happy thanks to you – therefore your duties and sacrifices cannot be in vain.
And not to mention the princess she's been fighting for all these years. Although she's never seen her face before, the townsmen talked of her heavenly white curls and enchanted eyes.
But the knight doesn't know that. She just sees laws and orders.
And yet, knowing that your duty of protection and defence is more important then your life; there's this buzzing behind your eyes. A mad spark in your soul, forming, sizzling, transforming. You fear it because how would you, a human beeing, be different then an animal if not by your rationale and sanity. What would you become if emotions, raw instincts, colors and sounds and the aroma of life guided your path instead? What a blasphemous thought! The church would surely call you mad. A mad woman. No mercy for such people.
And yet thorns blossom from beyond madness, and the knight knew that! There was a beauty in beeing ‘mad’, as they say; but no, she couldn't possibly.
Our knight here can't possibly fancy beeing mad or smelling roses, especially after her own brother perished in battle. He had a special calling for music, but alas, beeing a knight doesn't allow time for such concerns. He died unfullfilled. Unmarried and no dreams achieved. Not a side of madness before he died.
Drowned in sorrow, remembering how she used to play piano alongside him, she now doesn't sing or write songs anymore. Duty was her law, despite her unspoken dreams. She swore to abide the orders of the king, and as she cut her long black and white hair short, she promised to avenge her brother someday.