✤ the harp's shield ✤

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LouieLouieLouie

Edgebabby
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  2. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. Primarily Prefer Female
Genres
Fantasy, modern, romance, sometimes scifi
Sir Hyland was clad in shining armor: chainmail underneath a steel breastplate, cuisses and pauldrons strapped to his limbs, a helm engraven with his kingdom’s crest held in the elbow of a gauntleted arm. His sword was sheathed in a leather scabbard at his side, and his painted wooden shield hung on his back. His battle-tested form was suited up and ready to lead an army to war.

For some unreasonable reason, however, he was not at the front of a battlefield, nor was he leading any sort of charge. In fact, he was standing with his back to a wall in the castle ballroom, tasked with watching over the party and protecting its guests, as were several of RiValya’s other finest knights.

It was somewhat understandable that the royalty would request a heavier security presence during this event. It was Princess Anastasia’s twenty-first birthday, so of course, a dozen or more young (and not so young) noblemen had attended in hopes of being the lucky one who would soon be engaged to her and later become king of RiValya. With so many guests often came assassins sent to kill any one of them for any reason, and a murder would certainly ruin the party by anyone’s standards. Although he was instructed to watch out for all of the guests, he had been told to keep an eye in particular on the princess. The kingdom’s heir was generally viewed in a positive light by both citizens and allies, but those not invited to a royal birthday could get offended, and offended nobility could get violent.

Anyone could perform a simple guard job, though. Hyland itched to get out of the crowded room and into one where he could do something real. Recent reports had seen the Eskrian Empire encroaching on RiValyan territory. Eskrium had shown signs of expansion in past months, taking over some lesser independent states and absorbing them into their culture of religious fanaticism. RiValya was undoubtedly fortified enough to withstand their armies, but it was an issue that still required attention. His attention, preferably. Somewhere he didn’t have to distract himself with idiots in crowns and coattails.

Hyland sighed. It was going to be a long day.
 
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Anastasia was an introvert by nature. Forced into a social life, she had grown somewhat more comfortable over the years, but never as much as the courtiers. Her father had kept her shielded for so very long, and now that she was marriageable, he expected her to flit from one suitor to the next, entrancing them all with the skills she'd been taught over the years. But what was fraternizing with false flattery compared to the comforts of a book? The joys of plucking a harp? The peace of solitude? Anastasia nursed her third glass of champagne, worried she would drink too much but unable to find another way to cope.

"You look so tired, Your Highness," said Constance with a chuckle. The handmaid had been allowed to dress for the ball on Anastasia's leave -- she could not have survived this ordeal without her dear friend. "His Majesty ordered me to keep you from your room until at least midnight. There are still three hours left."

"Please don't remind me," huffed Ana under her breath. She'd managed to steal a moment to herself, away from the constant chatter of potential husbands. "I need some time. Come with me to the balcony?"

"Of course." Constance fell behind Anastasia as she walked, as was customary, and followed her out onto the private balcony overlooking the gardens. A clank of armor could be heard behind them; the knight assigned to the future queen had come as well. Neither lady minded.

"All of these men are so terribly dull," Ana complained when the doors had shut. "If I have to hear another word about their impressive horseback skills or unmatched swordsmanship, I shall scream. One of them even had the gall to tell me I looked 'ready' to bear him many sons. How am I supposed to choose one of them? It's like trying to find a rose in a field of weeds."

Constance giggled. "You have such a way with words, princess. But it's alright. There's sure to be someone here."

"No, there isn't." Anastasia rubbed her forehead with her free hand. "I want to make a smart match that my father and the kingdom will approve of, but I don't want to be miserable or used for my crown, either. I fear I'm backed into a corner."

"Nonsense!" Constance assured, placing a hand on the princess's arm. "Even if your future husband turns out to be the worst of men, there is no one, not even a king, who can stop the royal guard from protecting you. You will be the Sovereign. None other. Isn't that right, Sir Knight?" The handmaid turned to the guard who'd followed them, hoping he had enough sense to comfort their future queen.
 
His eyes scanned the crowd, keeping watch for unusual behavior among the guests. So far, nothing. Just a host of pretentious men and their entourages chattering and eating and dancing and being generally dull. At one point, a particularly self-entitled duke had approached the princess and practically draped himself over her, leading Hyland to place a hand on his sword’s pommel in preparation, but the princess and her handmaid companion were capable of extricating themselves from the situation relatively quickly, and it hadn’t escalated into something necessary of his interjection. Almost a pity, really.

Speaking of the princess, he noticed her lead her friend out onto the private balcony, away from the crowd. As he’d been instructed to protect her in particular, he finally left his place along the ballroom wall after what felt like hours and followed them out. He made sure to keep an appropriate distance from them. After all, he had no business bothering her. Not that he wanted to. As much as he appreciated the kindness and skill Princess Anastasia brought to her position, she was just another cog in the wheel of politics. Man ruled the world, and man was greedy. One friendly royal wasn’t going to stop the various nobilities of the world from constantly trying to destroy each other.

After the three of them had exited the ballroom, Hyland closed the door behind them. He had seen the princess’s habits long enough to know that she often preferred privacy to large crowds of people, especially with Constance, the handmaid. Admittedly, he also did it to relieve himself of the possibility of one of the noblemen following them out and becoming a nuisance.

Princess Anastasia and Constance were apparently also not thrilled by the guests here tonight. He did feel some sympathy for the princess. If he hadn’t pursued the path of knighthood, he would have ended up an average farmer or craftsman, but he would still have the choice of whatever family he might have formed.

A tiny part of him still withered when he thought of his family. On the other hand, maybe it was better to marry someone you didn’t love. Fewer attachments meant fewer inevitable heartbreaks. When the wars or plagues or just the effects of time came, she wouldn’t have to mourn her future spouse with the same all-consuming grief that accompanied the loss of a loved one.

He was only somewhat listening as the handmaid mentioned the princess’s protection, but he snapped to attention when she turned to him and asked him about it.

“That is correct, Miss Constance,” he replied, giving a nod in acknowledgement. “She is the daughter of the king, and one day will be crowned queen of RiValya. Our loyalties are to her, first and foremost, outweighing those for her future husband.” He shifted his eyes to look at the princess and gave a slight bow of respect. “Rest assured, your Highness, you will be protected for as long as we draw breath.” He and the rest of the royal guard had sworn this upon knighthood. It was a vow of honor, and it was not one he ever planned to break.
 
Ana had heard such pledges of loyalty all her life, but to hear them from this particular knight made her feel more proud, somehow. Honored to be their queen. She offered him a little smile as he bowed to her. "Thank you for your kind words, sir. Though they do little to take away the dullness of this whole affair, I'm moved by them." She tilted her head to the side just a bit, studying the man's features. "I don't believe I've met you before. What is your name?"

Constance stayed back and observed the interaction between princess and protector.
 
His eyes flickered between the princess and Constance, who seemed interested in the two of them having a conversation. While he wasn’t used to speaking directly with the royal family during an assignment, he supposed that the princess should become more familiar with the knight of the kingdom if she was to one day command them.

“My name is Sir Nash Hyland, your Highness. I was recently advanced as one of the senior knights within the guard. As such, I spend most of my time leading soldiers in both training exercises and battle, when necessary. I also assist in the planning and execution of war strategy.” He glanced back at the party, still sounding heartily from inside. What a waste of time and resources. “Although tonight, your safety at this ball has been deemed of a higher importance than our military.”

At last report, the Eskrian Empire’s forces had taken the small kingdom that shared RiValya’s southern border. It was only a matter of time before they tried something. The Empire had been known for their crafty invasion strategies, so in order for RiValya’s armies to be effective, they had to be fully prepared. Hyland wasn’t sure if the princess was fully informed on the matter, but it wouldn’t do to speak out of turn and bring it up during an event such as this.

“I am your bodyguard for the night, so feel free to celebrate however you will.” A pause, and then: “And happy birthday, your Highness.”
 
So well-spoken, so mannered. Anastasia was impressed. Most of the knights who personally oversaw her protection were gruff individuals or far too silent, not very good for conversation, which was something Ana loved in the right company. "Thank you, Sir Hyland. Though I hope the state of things does not blossom to war, I feel certain that if it does, you will be a valuable asset."

Within the ballroom, a shatter of glass and screaming pierced through the music. Constance's smile fell and she rushed to the balcony door, throwing it open. "Men in armor?" she called back to the knight and princess. "Mother Above, they have swords!"

"An attack? Here?" Anastasia set down her champagne and came to the open doors. She couldn't see much, only a spatter of blood as an intruder struck down a Countess she'd been speaking to less than an hour before. Ana gripped Constance's shoulder, the calamity making her blood thrum with fear. "Come back from there, please! I don't want you getting hurt."

Constance slammed the doors to the ballroom shut and rounded on Anastasia. "Me? You're the princess here, Ana. We need to get you out of here." The sounds coming from the ballroom became more gruesome by the minute, hacks into flesh, the cries of the wounded. Ana took a fearful step back.
 
There was only a tiny instant that Sir Hyland’s eyes went wide, seized by panic and surprise. Then his years of training kicked in and he caught his breath, and he assessed the situation. The castle was under attack. By some means they made it into the ballroom. The princess was in danger. She had to be removed from the situation immediately, and through the balcony doors was not an option.

At a glance, he noted that the balcony overlooked the castle garden, which was lush with all sorts of beautiful flora. Unfortunately, there was no time to admire the view. His gaze landed on a magnolia tree growing only a few yards from the edge of the balcony. Not the sturdiest of greenery, but it would have to do.

“Your Highness,” he said, turning to the princess, “this is all very sudden, but your safety has become of the utmost concern. I need to bring you somewhere safe. Stay here a moment.” He then climbed onto the balustrade and leaped onto the magnolia tree, grasping through the pink blooms for something to catch hold of. Thankfully, the branches were strong, and he managed to drop to the ground with only a few light scratches on his face from the less pliant twigs.

Turning skyward, he stretched out his arms. “All right. You both need to jump down. I will catch you. First the princess, then Constance.”

In his mind, he searched the grounds. Where was safe? He didn’t yet know who the intruders were or where they were coming from, so he couldn’t tell which rooms would be capable of providing reliable shelter. If all else failed, he may have to find a horse and leave the palace altogether.
 
"Jumping?" said Anastasia, aghast. She turned to Constance, about to ask for some alternative, but the maiden simply rushed her to the edge of the balcony. "Constance, this--"

"Just go!"

The cries of the fleeing and injured from inside the ballroom churned her stomach. This was the only way, Ana knew as much, but to leave her people behind was not a decision she relished in. She took a deep breath, climbed atop the rail, and leapt down into the arms of the man below her.

Behind young Constance, the balcony doors burst open from the swords of the enemy.
 
Just as he caught the princess in his arms and deposited her safely on the ground, Hyland watched the balcony doors burst open and armed men flooded the small outcropping. Horror clutched his gut as he saw large hands grab at Constance’s shoulders and pull her in, back toward the bloodbath. She had been good to the princess, but as much as he hated to admit it, the princess was a higher priority than a handmaiden.

“There’s nothing we can do,” he growled, picking up his helmet in one hand and taking the princess’ wrist in the other. “She’s lost already.” He pulled her behind him and they ran as quickly as their legs could take them.

Sir Hyland’s mind raced as he led her to the back of the garden, then around the side of the castle toward the rest of the town. He would hide her in a safehouse there until the incoming threat had been neutralized. As they ran, though, it dawned on him that, however reluctant he was to admit it, neutralization may not have been an option. Sounds of battle clashed near the castle gates, but screams also rose from the homes close to them. He could see the flickering red light of fires beginning, and heavy footsteps thundered through the streets. Although they were unseen as of yet in the alleyways, they wouldn’t remain so for long.

Soon, they reached the one house Hyland knew would provide shelter for as long as they remained undiscovered. Silently, they ducked around the corner onto the street after checking that the coast was clear, and Hyland let himself and the princess in, closing the door as quietly as he could.

There were only a few candles to light the small home, and a woman inside with gray-streaked hair smiled with relief. Hyland found himself doing the same. “Hello, Mother.”
 
Sir Hyland led Ana with unwavering bravery, but did nothing to soothe her soul. Constance was gone. Her father, likely butchered in his bed. Her city burned, the people put to the sword. How many hundreds had died? Thousands? The streets flowed red with blood and ash. Were the borders now unsafe? Was RiValya to fall to Eskrium might?

No sooner was she whisked into a small hut at the edge of the city. The woman before her was Sir Hyland's mother, and while Anastasia knew her manners and how to greet a fellow lady, her mind had fallen blank. Mournfulness and worry filled the space where charm and reason had once been.

"I..." She swallowed hard. Her crown and elaborate dress felt nonsensical now. What was she a princess of? "Forgive me. Words are not coming easily."

"By the Mother," exclaimed the woman, gathering her tattered skirts and rising from the table at which she sat. "Nash! What's goin' on out there? I hear voices screamin' in the night. Too scared to go see what's what. And--" Her gaze fell to Anastasia. "Your Highness?"

"Now is no time for formalities," Ana assured. Digging in the deep recesses of the knowledge and poise she'd been given, Ana had retrieved a stoic mask, a mask of calm. She would wear it until she was alone. "Please, good lady, I must leave this place. I fear all RiValya is in danger. Without a knight to protect me, I must ask your son to accompany me on my journey for aid. I will pay you both handsomely for your sacrifices when I return."
 
Initially, Sir Hyland had been reluctant to mix his personal and professional lives. He loved his mother dearly, but worry for her could prevent him from performing his assignments with a clear mind. In addition, introducing his mother to the other knights and informing her of the kingdom’s military status would have made her worry in return, given the danger he could be in during skirmishes. She had already lost one loved one to war, and he didn’t want to reason to think he would be the second.

However, when the Eskrian Empire attacked, he realized that the entire castle could be compromised, and the only safe location in the entire city for the princess was with the one woman he completely trusted.

He also couldn’t help but appreciate it as the princess’ terrified demeanor slipped into a mask of calmness as she explained the situation. She knew that scaring the townsfolk by sharing her own feelings would only matters worse. As much as he disliked the concept of nobility, she would make a good leader someday. That is, if he didn’t fail in protecting her tonight.

“It’s true,” he added. “The princess is in immediate danger as long as she remains here. I hope to be able to return soon, but my duty, first and foremost, is to the kingdom.” He spared a glance to the front window, checking that there were no soldiers marching upon them at that moment. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll take Hank with us, as speed is of the essence.” Hank was the family workhorse; he was nearly as old as Hyland and partially blind, but he was still strong enough to carry supplies across the city. Strong enough to carry both of them, he hoped.

It took a moment for it to sink in, but his mother nodded. “Of course, Nash. Whatever you need to get safe. Doesn’t seem like I’ll be goin’ out for supplies any time soon.” As she spoke, she hurried to a cabinet near the table and pulled out a small sack. Placing it into her son’s hands and wrapping them around it, she gave him a sad smile. “Some dried meat for the road. Not like what you’re probably used to,” she said, acknowledging the princess beside him, “but it’s something.”

Hyland nodded and attached the bag to his belt. “Stay hidden, Mother. Don’t leave your home. If they come in, don’t fight them.” He looked into his mother’s eyes and it hit him that this may be the last time he would see them. He stepped forward and took the back of her head in one hand and pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering a second longer than he should have. “Stay safe.”

She returned the gesture. “You too, Nash, baby.” Then she stepped back. “Now, go on and save the kingdom. Best of luck to you, Your Highness.” She gave a curtsy and looked at them with a sad, if hopeful, expression. “May the Mother guide your way.”

Behind the house, Hank was tied to a section of fence that creaked as he pulled, somewhat spooked by the situation around them.

“Steady there, Hank,” Hyland said, and hushed the horse quickly, running his hand down its mane. “We have a job to do.” In no time, the old stallion was settled, only pawing a bit at the ground in what nerves remained.

“Right.” He looked over to the princess, who still wore the beautiful, if now rumpled, evening gown from her birthday ball. Not the most convenient apparel for making an escape. “I take it you know how to ride?” he asked, ready to boost her onto Hank’s back if necessary.
 
  • Sweet
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"Yes," said Anastasia without missing a beat. Modesty had no place when it came to saving her life. "Though I will need help in the saddle." She lifted her skirts enough to be able to mount the stallion, and when Sir Hyland aided her, the two of them fled the capital city toward the forest for shelter.

~~

The night seemed endless. Anastasia's guardian knight had procured firewood and started a fire, all while she paced back and forth through the makeshift campsite in search of a plan. Any plan. There were kingdoms they could ally with, surely. Eskrium must be pushed back. She could not, would not submit her people to their might. But who would aid them? Who indeed.

So Anastasia paced.
 
As Sir Hyland gathered the necessary components for a fire, he made sure not to stray too far from their campsite. It was possible that some Eskrian soldiers would have followed them into the woods, or even that desperate and fleeing RiValyan citizens would attack them for supplies. He wanted to keep a close eye on the princess at all times.

In addition, the gathering gave him time to think. With the supposition that they hadn’t been followed or tracked, they were alone. They had food, but only a small supply. Water would most likely be easy to find, given the numerous streams throughout the forest, but there was always a chance they wouldn’t be able to find one. The weather had been pleasant lately, but nights could be cold and the skies could shift at any time.

Hyland sighed internally. They needed a plan, and quickly.

After setting up and lighting the fire, he found a short log he could drag over next to it and sat. He watched the princess pace back and forth, a pensive expression etched across her face. He almost wanted to mention that as she did so, the hem of her beautiful and likely expensive dress was becoming ripped and dirty, but it occurred to him that that was the least of their problems at the moment, and it wasn’t one they could really prevent from happening anyway.

“Your Highness, you should sit down,” he said after a while. “It’s important that you save your strength for tomorrow. We may need to move our position if conditions worsen.” He knew his duty was to protect her physically, but her mental distress was clear enough, and a clear mind would make the situation easier for them both.
 
Ana simply sighed. "I fear if I sit, I will only grow restless." She continued to pace, the cleanliness of her dress being the least of her concerns. Visions of the corpses in her streets haunted her thoughts. "We need an army, Sir Hyland. Perhaps if we reach one of the outer cities of RiValya, we can send word to our forces and gather them." The princess halted her pacing to face the knight who'd given his life to her. Not a thing to overlook, but there would be other times to thank him. "You are of a military mind. Does this sound like a wise plan?"

She did not need protection currently. What Anastasia truly needed was an advisor. A friend.
 
If he could be thankful for anything, it was that the princess had been raised with the intention of her becoming a capable leader. If he’d had to deal with the invasion with a whiny, vain woman on top of it all, he might be tempted to leave her on her own for a while, let her get her priorities straight. But Princess Anastasia was already planning their next move, so she would be much less trouble for them both.

“It does, your Highness,” he responded. “The two of us alone are nothing against the Eskrian armies. We don’t yet know the extent of their reach, nor the current status of our own forces, so it would do us well to try some reconnaissance.” He thought for a moment. “Given our route out of the city, I believe that there is a small settlement not too far from here. A day’s walk north, maybe. They won’t have the fastest connections to the rest of RiValya, but you should be safe there.”

Despite her calm demeanor and strategic ideas, underneath her mask of control, Sir Hyland could still see a hint of something else. The way her eyes darted about faster than from mere concern, the way her expression tensed for only moments at a time. She was scared. For her own life, for her country, he didn’t know, but it was there.

Part of him wanted to leave her be, like a spoiled princess in the woods. See how it felt to live without thick stone walls, a soft bed in the night, a hot breakfast waiting every morning. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that, princess or peasant, being driven from your home is highly distressing. And if she was as noble as she seemed to be, she had far more than a single farm or workshop to be worried about.

“This will pass,” he said after some time. “RiValya’s armies are strong. Her people are resilient. Eskrium will not prevail for long, and soon you will return to the castle, safe and sound.” He couldn’t help but give a hint of a smile, adding, “I can only hope the majority of your suitors will not be there waiting for you.”
 
Anastasia scoffed. "Joking at a time like this," she said, folding her arms across her chest, but a sad smile spread across her face all the same. "If they're half the men they claimed to be, they will have died fighting or lived to save others. I hope such is true."

Sobered by the thought of those men, Ana moved to sit on a log beside the fire, hugging herself close. She was not so naive as to complain about the cold or her aching feet, the stained ruin of her gown, the tightness of her corset that certainly could not be removed by the knight's hands. No, she knew she had been born into luxury and privilege. With that came the common sense to hold one's tongue when presented with uncomfortable circumstances. Anastasia removed the crown from her head and held it delicately in her hands, studying the flawless diamonds and intricate goldwork, frowning. It would fetch a high price if need be.

"My father was foolish to underestimate Eskrium," she muttered mournfully. "How many have died for it?"
 
That, Sir Hyland had no answer for. War, for the greater part, was a product of the vanity and greed of the rich and powerful. It was waged with the hands of common men and the lives of the innocent while their rulers proclaimed their own goodness and might. How many lives had been lost this night? How many the night before? Which men could be held responsible for the red-stained streets that now wove through RiValya’s capital city? While the Eskrian Empire was practically a manifestation of greed itself, how much grief could have been prevented by the careful eye and combined resources of more peaceful countries? How many fathers could have been returned to their families after fighting for what they held dear?

Thoughts like these often plagued his mind after a battle, and he knew they would return again and again, but now was not the time for anger toward those who could not be punished. He had to keep his wits about him now. Hatred could blind a man to the truth of the situation, and the truth right now was that they were only two people against an entire empire. They needed help as soon as possible.

“Please, your Highness,” he finally said, turning toward the woman sitting next to him. “It has been a long night, and you need your rest. There will be time for mourning later.” He stood, brushing the bits of bark and dirt from his pants. “Sleep. I will watch over you. When the sun rises, we head north.”