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penner
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Sep 28, 2015
Cris would never feel comfortable in the gilded halls of the High King. The cold grey stones, decorated with the finest tapestries, were far from the rolling hills, soft green landscapes and forests of his youth. How had he gotten here? It took years to earn his position as Knight of the Kingdom and yet it felt too soon. He missed home, more than that, he was tired of the pomp and circumstance of Castle Airhart.
The castle guards straightened as he approached the wide wooden doors that led into the King's Chamber. Their spears banged into the floor, before crossing to bar the way.
"Name!"
"Sir Cristopher of Edern," Cris murmured with a slight bow of his head.
"You may enter."
They were expecting him, of course. The King had called Cris here. Still, he felt out of place as he stepped through the door and into the chamber, almost as if he were dreaming. This place was unreal, glittering with some unholy light, adorned with more riches than Cris had ever seen in his life. It felt... almost obscene, when compared to the starkness and need outside these walls.
"My liege," Cris dropped to one knee when he spotted the King lounging in a wide, plush chair near the center of the room.
In one hand, the King held a white rag, this he sobbed into at odd intervals. In the other hand he held a large greasy turkey leg which he nibbled on between sobs.
"You've heard the news?" The King blubbered.
"About the princess?"
"Yes. Yes! That foul hag has stolen my daughter!"
"I hear a legion of men have been in search of her for days, my liege," Cris did not dare to lift his head. The King was known to explode into fits of rage for such infractions, and less.
"Failed! They've all failed!"
Cris did not know how to respond. Instead, he remained quiet as the king loudly blew his nose into the rag. Bits of snot missed the rag and dripped down the kings arm.
"You must find her! You must bring her home!"
"Me, your liege? I am but a lowly knight."
"You are the one they call the Giant Slayer, are you not?"
"That was purely an accident--"
"Accident! Pah! Your false modesty does not become you! If you cannot retrieve her, none can! You must go! Into the Dark Woods, and you must bring my daughter home!"
How could he say no? Cris bowed his head before slowly rising, "I will find your daughter... if it is the last thing I do."
*********************
Time had long ago ceased to mean anything to him. What is time but the measure of years? He had no years to measure, not anymore. He had only the cold, the dark, the stones.
He slept, a great deal, or at least it felt a great deal like sleeping. Some days he tried to remember, to cling to the thing that made him human but those days were fewer and fewer now. Too long he had been in the dark, the silence. Too long he had been in the stone.
Had he once had a body? It hardly seemed so. Had he once had a name? He could barely remember it.
Winnie? Winter? Yes, Winter, but his brother called him Winnie. He could no longer remember his brother's name, or even his face.
The day she arrived, time began to pulse anew. Her arrival gave him years to measure, not his own... but hers.
The girl.
The princess.
At first, he did not reveal himself to her. He watched her through the stones, listened to her voice, tried to remember words.
At first, he was not certain what she was. What is this bleating thing? He wondered. Ah. Human. No, a girl. She was a girl. A girl with a head that shined like gold, and a voice like the sweetest bird song. Birds... he remembered birds. Birds came to the tower often, they would chirp at him from the softly rounded windows. This girl was not a bird.
At first, he was too ashamed and afraid to show himself.
It was on the fifth day of her appearance that he burst free, but not because he meant to. It happened quite by accident.
He sneezed.
There was no reason for it, no need for it, he had no nose to be tickled, no lungs to expel, and yet it happened and he was left awkwardly staring out from his wall at the girl who was not a bird.
The castle guards straightened as he approached the wide wooden doors that led into the King's Chamber. Their spears banged into the floor, before crossing to bar the way.
"Name!"
"Sir Cristopher of Edern," Cris murmured with a slight bow of his head.
"You may enter."
They were expecting him, of course. The King had called Cris here. Still, he felt out of place as he stepped through the door and into the chamber, almost as if he were dreaming. This place was unreal, glittering with some unholy light, adorned with more riches than Cris had ever seen in his life. It felt... almost obscene, when compared to the starkness and need outside these walls.
"My liege," Cris dropped to one knee when he spotted the King lounging in a wide, plush chair near the center of the room.
In one hand, the King held a white rag, this he sobbed into at odd intervals. In the other hand he held a large greasy turkey leg which he nibbled on between sobs.
"You've heard the news?" The King blubbered.
"About the princess?"
"Yes. Yes! That foul hag has stolen my daughter!"
"I hear a legion of men have been in search of her for days, my liege," Cris did not dare to lift his head. The King was known to explode into fits of rage for such infractions, and less.
"Failed! They've all failed!"
Cris did not know how to respond. Instead, he remained quiet as the king loudly blew his nose into the rag. Bits of snot missed the rag and dripped down the kings arm.
"You must find her! You must bring her home!"
"Me, your liege? I am but a lowly knight."
"You are the one they call the Giant Slayer, are you not?"
"That was purely an accident--"
"Accident! Pah! Your false modesty does not become you! If you cannot retrieve her, none can! You must go! Into the Dark Woods, and you must bring my daughter home!"
How could he say no? Cris bowed his head before slowly rising, "I will find your daughter... if it is the last thing I do."
*********************
Time had long ago ceased to mean anything to him. What is time but the measure of years? He had no years to measure, not anymore. He had only the cold, the dark, the stones.
He slept, a great deal, or at least it felt a great deal like sleeping. Some days he tried to remember, to cling to the thing that made him human but those days were fewer and fewer now. Too long he had been in the dark, the silence. Too long he had been in the stone.
Had he once had a body? It hardly seemed so. Had he once had a name? He could barely remember it.
Winnie? Winter? Yes, Winter, but his brother called him Winnie. He could no longer remember his brother's name, or even his face.
The day she arrived, time began to pulse anew. Her arrival gave him years to measure, not his own... but hers.
The girl.
The princess.
At first, he did not reveal himself to her. He watched her through the stones, listened to her voice, tried to remember words.
At first, he was not certain what she was. What is this bleating thing? He wondered. Ah. Human. No, a girl. She was a girl. A girl with a head that shined like gold, and a voice like the sweetest bird song. Birds... he remembered birds. Birds came to the tower often, they would chirp at him from the softly rounded windows. This girl was not a bird.
At first, he was too ashamed and afraid to show himself.
It was on the fifth day of her appearance that he burst free, but not because he meant to. It happened quite by accident.
He sneezed.
There was no reason for it, no need for it, he had no nose to be tickled, no lungs to expel, and yet it happened and he was left awkwardly staring out from his wall at the girl who was not a bird.
