The Princess' Suitors

Francisco

Princess Winifred wrote her letters from the afternoon, well into the night. She kept getting so far and then re-writing sections and throwing bits of balled up parchment across the room in frustration.

“Fuel for the furnace.” She muttered to herself on several occasions, as she lobbed another scrapped page over her shoulder, with little care for where it ended up.

“There is no need to think so hard about it, dear princess, just write what you are feeling, ask them the questions you most want the answers to.” Damaris suggested from above the window, only to have the next scrunched up page hurled directly out of said window.

“Quiet, please, Damaris, I am trying to concentrate. I want to come across… I don’t know, as someone who is worth all of this nonsense.” Winifred’s voice turned gentle at the end of her reply and she stopped writing.

“You are more than worthy of the love you have received, Winifred. You are more than worthy of the love you have and the love that is yet to come to you. I am sorry that you have been dealt such a cruel hand that has kept you hidden from the world for your safety. You deserve freedom. You deserve, undeniably, this to work out.

Winifred, write your letters and allow me to deliver them for you. Be who you are and you will always be worth it,” Damaris said.

There was a moment of prolonged silence before the scratch of the quill against the parchment picked back up again. Damaris smiled to herself and listened for the sound as she remained at her post, observing the activity in the camps below the tower.

Some of the camps were gone from the night before, all from the western side of the tower, and she made a mental note of it. It was suspicious.

After a while, she moved her attention to the two viable suitors that had set up, not too far away from each other. William was still directly adjacent to the tower, leaning against the same rock, the picture of it just as depressing as it had been the first time. He had the distinct energy of a kicked puppy. The mystery man, however, had hidden himself in the treeline and was lying on a thick branch.

He had been keeping an eye on what was happening outside of the keep almost as much as Damaris herself had been.

She was intrigued to discover what his personality would be like. It was hard to tell much about him at all when he was sequestered away beneath the foliage. All that she could tell was that he was lean, wearing all black, was apparently a good climber and that his scent was of pine and mint.

Eventually, Winifred finished her letters, each being several pages of parchment long and closed with the royal seal pressed into pale, rose-coloured wax. She spritzed each one with a little of her perfume (one she had made herself from the flowers in her garden), and Damaris raised a brow at the action.

“What?” Winifred asked. “If one of them is to be my future partner, then I don’t think I should hold back. What’s the harm in having a little romanticism?”

“Nothing at all. I think that it is sweet of you,” Damaris said.

“Well, off you go. You best deliver them before I grow too nervous and change my mind about those final drafts.” Winifred wrung her hands as she spoke, digging them into the flowing fabric of her dress.

“Do not waste your evening fretting, dear princess. If one of them is truly meant for you, then they will appreciate your letter for its sincerity,” Damaris assured.

As soon as darkness fell over the enchanted forest, Evamere barely visible to the south and the mountains to the north illuminated by the glow of the moon, Damaris made her descent into the clearing.

She had left an enchanted mirage of herself in her dragon form, perched atop the tower so as to not raise any suspicion. If you looked too closely at it, you could see the clouds moving across the sky, through its dark form. Thankfully, nightfall and its low visibility were on her side.

She was in her full plate armour as she made her way around the outskirts of the keep, not wanting to show her identity to any of the possible onlookers. Most of them were asleep, of course, or just simply not paying any mind to their surroundings.

She walked steadily to the trees and covertly peered around at the men in the camps. It was interesting to view them close-up for once. Usually the only time she was among them was to scare them off or, on less fortunate occasions, end their lives.

They were all unfortunate in one way or another though. The main way in which they lacked said fortune being that their presence in the forest was pointless, their efforts were pointless and they were wasting their lives at the foot of the tower, unaware of the futility or unable to accept it because of the curse.

Eventually, she got to the south side of the tower, and when she did, she immediately found Sir William sitting against his rock. She felt the need to tease him about his lack of preparedness, but thought better of it in the moment. Though she could speak and not be recognised (her voice sounded significantly more ferocious in her dragon form), she found that she didn’t want him to feel as though he were being kicked while he was down.

She approached him and upon seeing that he was already dozing off, nudged him with her metallic boot (she justified that this action did not count as kicking him while he was down).

He shot up to attention, wobbling to his feet and fumbling for his sword in his rush to prepare for an attack.

“Calm yourself Sir William of Evamere. I am not here to fight you.” Damaris spoke in a low tone.

He froze in his actions and lifted his head to look at her and properly take in her presence. It was obvious by his face that he was taken aback, probably trying to figure out what was underneath her helm. It wasn’t every evening that one was nudged awake by a 6’4” warrior in full plate armour.

“W-who are you and how do you know my name?” He stammered.

“I am a knight employed by the princess for her protection. I am simply here to deliver you a letter and then I shall take my leave.” She said, pulling out the letter that had his name written delicately on the front in cursive.

“A letter from Princess Winifred…” He took it from Damaris’ hand, absolutely mystified at the development.

“That’s right. You must read it and give your response, so that I may deliver it to her.” She prompted.

Immediately, he sat back down against his rock and peeled off the wax seal, opening up the pages to read. Damaris regarded him for a while before going to move on, only to be interrupted by his voice.

“Wait! Where are you going?” He asked, panicked.

“You are not the only one that I must visit tonight, Sir William. I will be back soon enough, so make sure that you have your reply by then.” She said and did not let him attempt to speak again as she walked away.

She analysed the spaces between the branches of the trees that towered above her. She knew that the other suitor was hiding somewhere nearby. He was sneaky, but he was not sneaky enough to evade her watchful eye.

A few more paces ahead,she spotted him lying on the branch of a tree (a different one to the one he had chosen the night before). He was well-hidden up there and blended in quite well with the shade of the leaves, especially in the darkness. However, the subtle glint of his gauntlets in the light of the moon had given him away.

“Come down from your tree, rogue. I have a letter for you.” Damaris said, and smiled to herself when he startled and almost fell from the tree.

“Who are you?” He demanded, his voice low and his posture defensive.

He got to his feet rather nimbly and pulled out a long, thin, silver dagger from the sheath that dangled from his leather belt. He glared at Damaris from under his hood and pressed his lips into a firm line as he frowned. She could see, then, that he had a mass of choppy black hair and piercing blue eyes that were reminiscent of sapphires.

“I am the knight of Princess Winifred. I am here to deliver a letter from her to you.” Damaris explained.

The line of his shoulders became less tense at the mention of the princess, though his depression and stance were still guarded. He jumped down from the tree and stood about five inches shorter than her. He did not seem to be intimidated by their difference in stature, though, and she couldn’t decide if it was because he was due to confidence in his agility in an escape plan or if he was just very good at hiding his worry.

“A letter? From Princess Winifred?” He asked, unsure of the validity of such a thing. “For me?”

“Yes.” Said Damaris and she passed the letter to him. Though, unlike the letter to William, this one was simply addressed to a ‘dark stranger’ and was sealed with the same rose-pink wax and the royal insignia.

“It’s real… that is the royal seal.” He said more to himself than to Damaris.

“She spent a long time writing you that letter. Read it carefully and think well about your response to her. You must do so with haste, however, as I must return to the tower before the break of dawn.” She explained.

“It will take me a while to read this letter and give a thorough enough response,” the man stated.

“I will wait.” Damaris replied, her tone indicating the finality of her words.

And so, he read the letter while she stood by and waited for him to finish. It was a long time that she was standing there, judging from the way that the moon had moved subtly across the sky.

She watched him from the corner of her eye, an easy thing to do covertly when she was wearing a helmet that covered her face entirely. He seemed to be very concentrated on the pages in front of him. Good. At least she would be able to assure the princess that her suitors were taking their roles seriously.

Eventually, he pulled a leather-bound journal from a satchel that had been hidden behind his back, along with a thin pencil that looked rather worn down. The satchel appeared to be attached to his leather belt in the same way as his sheath. It bore no straps and was simply bound to the belt itself.

He wrote for a while, covering two sides of paper on both sides and referring back to the princess’ letter in order to write direct responses to some of her questions. Damaris was impressed with how thorough he was being and only hoped that Sir William was doing the same.

As he did not have parchment of his own, unprepared as he was, she would have to hear his message and relay it to her for him.

“Here. Take this back to her.” He said, looking away as he pushed the letter towards Damaris, as though he had become shy and simply wished to appear aloof instead. It was rather endearing and the pale blush across his high cheekbones was a complete giveaway of how he truly felt.

Damaris thought to herself that it was a quality that would certainly endear him to Princess Winifred as well.

“Thank you.” She took the letter and folded it away. “I will be back again soon if the princess decides to respond again.”

“Sure.” He said, clipped. He looked taken aback by the bluntness of that ‘if’ that now hung over the possibility of the princess; continued communication with him. “Tell her that I appreciate her effort in reaching out to me. It was… bold and brave of her to do so.” He requested softly.

“Of course. And what name shall I give her when I relay it?” Damaris asked.

“Francisco. Francisco Dawn.” He replied and then he was gone again, pulling his hood over his head and disappearing back into the trees with a couple of soundless leaps.