Knight of my Heart

Princess Emmeryn Villanueva was no man, though many men, in their arrogance and disdain, begrudged her rightful place. Yet, they had no choice but to accept it—the line of succession was clear, and it would not bend to their complaints. The cool air of Astrelin, in the year of our Lord 1399, carried the whispers of autumn, and Princess Emmeryn, having celebrated her sixteenth year only a month past, moved through the castle corridors with an air of quiet confidence that belied her tender age. "Didst thou find the pandemain to thy liking?" Emmeryn asked lightly, her voice like the soft rustle of leaves, as she turned toward her dearest companion and lady-in-waiting, Rikia. "Indeed, my lady, it was most pleasing," Rikia replied with a gracious curtsey. "But tell me, how fared thy meeting with the Earl?" "Ugh," Emmeryn sighed, rolling her eyes with barely restrained exasperation. "He dared call me a lambkin." "A lambkin?" Rikia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in disbelief. "Surely he jested!" "Nay, he was as earnest as a preacher at a pulpit," Emmeryn snapped, irritation flickering in her eyes. "And as if that were not insult enough, I have since learned he was arrested for heresy!" "Heresy?" Rikia’s voice rose, laden with both shock and intrigue. "Though why am I surprised? His actions did always tread close to blasphemy." Emmeryn nodded gravely, her voice growing serious as she continued. "An Earl with no grace, driven solely by ambition. He claimed his late father bade him become an apostate, declaring that all faith is folly." Rikia’s eyes widened. "Yet I saw him once poring over the Book of Hours! The ecclesiastical court shall not look kindly upon such duplicity." "It is too late for mercy," Emmeryn said with finality, her fingers smoothing the fabric of her gown absently. "His fate is sealed. But enough of him. We must prepare—my festival begins anon." "As you wish, my lady," Rikia said, bowing low as she led the way to Emmeryn’s chambers. The air inside the princess’s chambers was thick with the scents of lavender and beeswax, and the room hummed with anticipation. Rikia approached the wardrobe, drawing forth a splendid red gown embroidered with golden threads that shimmered like a sunset. "How dost thou find this, my lady?" she asked with a proud smile. Emmeryn pursed her lips, her eyes scanning the dress with a critical eye. "Hmm… it is striking, yet not quite suitable. Have we aught else?" Rikia hesitated only a moment before reaching back into the wardrobe. This time, she retrieved a light blue dress, its fabric adorned with silver accents that caught the light with every movement. "Perhaps this?" she suggested. Emmeryn’s lips curled into a smile. "Perfect! That shall do beautifully." Rikia bowed again. "I shall summon Sir Kaian to accompany thee, along with Sir Zale and Sir Halden for thy protection." "Thank you, Rikia," Emmeryn replied, allowing the maid to assist her as the gown was carefully laced and adjusted. As the final touches were made, Emmeryn's excitement grew. "Today shall be wondrous! The sun shines bright, the people gather, and joy fills the air!" she murmured, her voice filled with anticipation. "Thou art ready, my lady," the maid said softly, stepping back and offering a respectful curtsey. Emmeryn took one last glance at her reflection in the polished silver mirror. "Then let us greet the day," she declared, her heart quickening with the thrill of the festivities awaiting her. Outside, three knights stood ready, and Emmeryn was escorted into the bustling castle courtyard, where the festival was already in full swing. The air was alive with the sounds of flutes, drums, and laughter. People swirled in vibrant colors, their voices mingling in joyous celebration. "Ah! There is my daughter, PRINCESS EMMERYN!" her father bellowed jubilantly, his voice slurred with too much wine but full of pride. The crowd erupted into cheers, though a few clapped with less enthusiasm, their discontent poorly masked by forced smiles. Emmeryn could feel the weight of their eyes upon her, their whispers swirling just beneath the surface. Not all were pleased with her ascension. Not all had accepted her as the rightful heir. But what could she do? The kingdom’s laws were clear, and no man's grumbling could change that. "Happy late birthday, Princess," Duke Kallus said, bowing deeply with an exaggerated flourish, his eyes calculating as they briefly skimmed her face. Emmeryn smiled graciously, nodding her thanks to those who offered well-wishes, her demeanor composed yet warm. She could feel the gnawing tension in the air, the simmering discontent of those who saw her youth and gender as weaknesses. She did not let it show, but inside, her mind churned with the knowledge that this was but the beginning. If a single man’s hatred could disrupt so much, how would she rule a kingdom divided? "NOW! Let the celebration begin!" her father roared, his arm raised high, and the crowd erupted into revelry. Vendors called out to passersby, selling candied fruits, delicate ribbons, and glittering jewelry. Musicians played lively tunes, while dancers spun in joyous circles, their skirts billowing like the petals of flowers in a gentle breeze. "You know, Emmeryn," Princess Darotha leaned in conspiratorially, her lips curling into a teasing smile, "that knight of yours—what is his name? Ah, Kaian—looks positively dashing today." Emmeryn glanced toward Kaian, standing at attention near the edge of the gathering. His dark hair gleamed in the sunlight, and his sharp gaze flickered toward her momentarily, though he quickly returned to his watchful survey of the surroundings. "He does, doesn't he?" Emmeryn replied, a flicker of something in her tone before she caught herself. "But it is improper to think so highly of one so far beneath me." Darotha smirked. "Improper, perhaps, but not untrue. Anyway, enjoy your day," she said with a wave, vanishing into the crowd. Emmeryn’s thoughts lingered on Kaian for only a moment before she made her way to her cousin Princess Ellsa, who waved her over enthusiastically. "It has been fourteen years since last I saw thee!" Ellsa exclaimed, embracing her tightly. "Fourteen years since thou didst throw my toys at me, thou meanest," Emmeryn teased with a grin. Ellsa laughed. "I was but six! Thy ceaseless crying vexed me terribly." "Of course it did." Emmeryn rolled her eyes, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "But let us speak of—" "You damned bastards!" The harsh cry cut through the merriment like a blade, and both Emmeryn and Ellsa turned sharply, eyes widening in alarm. A man, his face contorted with rage, charged toward them, a gleaming sword raised high in his hand. The sun caught the edge of the blade, blinding Emmeryn for a brief, heart-stopping moment. The gleam of steel flashed, its menace unmistakable as it sliced through the air. "Get behind me!" Emmeryn commanded instantly, her voice firm and commanding as she yanked Ellsa out of harm's way, pulling her against the nearest pillar. Her heart raced in her chest, her thoughts scrambled in the chaos of the moment. The sound of feet pounding against the stone courtyard mingled with the rising cries of the crowd—first laughter, now fear. The man’s eyes blazed with wild hatred, his breath ragged as he lunged forward. The crowd parted in a panic, many stumbling back in terror, some too slow to escape the danger. Before the blade could reach her, Sir Kaian was there, moving like a shadow, stepping between the princess and the would-be assassin with the grace of a predator. He raised his sword just in time, meeting the man’s strike with a deafening clash of steel. Sparks flew as their blades locked, the force of the collision sending a shockwave through the air. "Stand down!" Kaian’s voice rang clear, firm, and unyielding, cutting through the frenzied noise of the crowd. The would-be assassin’s eyes flashed with madness, his muscles straining as he struggled against Kaian's superior strength. "She’s a woman! Why should we have a woman as ruler?" he spat, his words dripping with venom. In that moment, Emmeryn felt the weight of his words, the hatred that fueled them seeping into the very air around her. The anger in his eyes mirrored the disdain many had for her right to rule. She stiffened, but there was no time to reflect, only to survive. Knights surged forward, their swords drawn as they overpowered the man, dragging him to the ground with a force that knocked the breath from his chest. His curses echoed through the courtyard, loud and venomous, as he was hauled away. "Take him to the dungeons! Chain him!" the king bellowed, his voice trembling with both fury and fear. The crowd’s energy shifted abruptly. What had been a day of revelry was now thick with unease, the joyous sounds of the festival smothered beneath a veil of hushed whispers. The princess, shaken but unhurt, was escorted from the square as the celebratory mood dissolved into anxious murmurs. "Are you unharmed, daughter?" the king asked, his hands gripping her shoulders with a mix of worry and relief. "I am well, Father, thanks to Sir Kaian," Emmeryn said, glancing briefly at her knight, who stood vigilant, his expression unreadable. The assassin's words echoed in her mind, the hatred that filled them like a poison. The king’s gaze softened as he turned to Kaian. "You have my deepest gratitude, Sir Kaian. You have proven your loyalty beyond question." Kaian inclined his head, his voice steady and respectful. "It is my honor to serve." The festivities were hastily brought to an end, and Emmeryn withdrew to her chambers, her heart yet trembling from the day's treachery. As the hour deepened, a firm knock echoed upon her door. Sir Kaian entered, his face stern, though his voice softened in respect. "Your Grace, the knave hath been dealt with. Ye are safe this night." Emmeryn inclined her head slightly, her weariness plain. "Thy diligence is ever noted, Sir Kaian. Thou mayst take thy leave now." He lingered but a moment, as though to speak further, then bowed low and departed, the oaken door creaking softly as it shut behind him. Alone at last, Emmeryn shed her festival raiment and laid herself upon her bed. The chill of the linens did little to ease her troubled mind, yet her eyes grew heavy nonetheless. The assassin's words whispered faintly in her thoughts but were soon drowned by the pull of sleep. For this night, at least, she sought respite. The morrow would bring its trials anew.