The Solemn Knight

The flames begin to dwindle. I throw several more logs onto the fire, its flame reigniting. I stare deeply into the flames as if it will give me the answer I’m looking for. A part of me believes that I’ve already got my answer, that within the flames, my demise lies.

Already on my third cup of ale, I can't help but think about how I got here. Think about what being a knight once meant to me, and how that has changed so drastically. “Staring at the flames again,” a voice says. I don't flinch because the voice is familiar; it's my friend Heath.

“I guess this might be your last time doing that,” there’s a playful tone in Heath’s voice. My eyes dart in Heath’s direction. Embarrassed, Heath looks away. “You have your flames, and I have my ale, although it looks like tonight it's also your coping method,” Heath says. “Does it make you feel better, because I can't say it's gotten me there,” Heath sighs. “It numbs the fear for a while." I snicker. “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.” Heath narrows his eyes at me.

“We can’t all be like you, Leo, stone cold.” Heath adjusts on the wooden log. “This one's different.” Heath starts. “Normally, confidence comes easily, because I feel like I'm doing a duty. Like I’m protecting my people.”

“But?” I ask.

“But after a while, you start to consider what you're leaving behind. I know that King Lorne forbids knights to marry, but I find myself thinking about that part of my life, if it were my life.”

I swallow hard. “I know you carry your title with pride, but you can’t tell me that you’ve never thought about what it would be like to come home to someone after a battle. To fight with the intention of living to be with the person you love.” I stare hard at Heath. He shrugs,

“Maybe it's just the ale talking,” he finishes. “Do you think we will die tomorrow?” I ask.

Heath looks back into the flames, the same way I did earlier. “With half of our guard already slain and there’s doubling in size, I’d say our chances are pretty low, lad.” I break eye contact. I throw the remainder of my ale into the flames, they hiss as they extinguish. I begin taking large strides to my horse, Wemble.

“Where are you going, Leo?” Heath calls out, but I ignore him and begin to mount Wemble.

I ride swiftly through the cool night air, despite my fair share of ale. The ride is familiar and short. I stare at the large castle in front of me, searching for the window, her window. From below, I can see the soft glow of candles coming from the third window from the right and the large balcony she usually reads on close by.

I rush up the winding steps, my walk staggered from my drunken state.

I know I should be at the campsite with the rest of the men, but my mind forbade me from being present there. Even in a drunken state, I know the way to the familiar chamber. I look down both ends of the hall before giving a soft knock on the door. When the rustic chamber door opens, I am met with her brown eyes widening at my arrival.

“Leo?” she questions. I kiss her, pushing her into the room and closing the door behind me. She places her hands on my shoulders, parting for a brief moment to catch her breath. We continue to kiss passionately, my tongue tracing the inside of her mouth. She pulls back some, “Wait, wait,” she says. Our eyes meet. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the campsite?” she asks. I step out of her embrace and begin a short pace, my hands rummaging through my hair.

“Leo, talk to me,” she begs. I stop the pace and stare at her with sad eyes. My nostrils sting, and tears fill up in my eyes. “What if I don’t come back to you?” I whisper. Her brows push into a frown, and her lips part in shock.

“That’s all I can think about.” The tears leave my eyes, and her figure becomes blurry.

“I have been severely wounded, closer to death each time I put my armor on, and none of those things scare me the way losing you does.” Her lips quiver as she tries to hold back her own cries.

“I made this choice, I know that. I followed the oath and believed being alone was justifiable because I was protecting the kingdom.” I take several steps back over to her.

“And in an instant, I question why I would ever make such a promise.” Freya takes my face into her hands, and I place mine on top of hers. “No one has ever understood me the way you do.” She says. “But I want you to promise me that you won’t say you love me til you come back.”

“Freya.” I sigh.

“I will not let the first time you say it to me be as a goodbye. I will not.”

“Will you forgive me if I do not return?” she looks up at me, tears flooding her eyes.

“If only you can forgive me as well,” she says. I frown. Slowly, she places my hand on her stomach. I feel myself growing sick, and for moments I cannot say anything or even move.

“Did he force you?” I ask. She refuses to meet my eyes. “Freya?”

“Could you love a child that wasn’t your own?” she asks.

I want to run out into the hall and wake him from his slumber and slice his throat. I want to parade his body around the kingdom and show the people what kind of King he really is. But knowing that by telling me she had to relive the awful experience, I keep my arms around her.

“Yes.” I say repeatedly. She gives a weak smile, and I wipe the tears from her face. I press a long kiss on her forehead and bring her into my embrace. “Then it’s settled. You have to come back to us.”

I hold her tightly for just a while longer, trying to keep the memory of her lavender scent, the way her body fits with mine, the sound of her voice, and the promise of returning at the forefront of my mind.

“I have to go,” I whisper.

Her grip tightens around my body before releasing me. We look at each other with the last bit of hope that we have left. I caress her face as she presses her cheek deeper into my hand.

“Stay strong, alright?” She nods.

I take the hand that’s caressing her face and place it on the back of her head, bringing her close to me. I kiss her passionately as if it will be the last time, knowing I wanted to do so much more to show her how much I loved her.

When we part, the sound of our breath fills the room, and I try to keep even the sound of her breathing imprinted on my mind. I kiss her forehead one last time before turning away and walking out the door.

Once the door is closed, I hear her collapse to the floor, her cries much louder. I turn back to the door, wanting to open it. I place my forehead on the door and run my hand across the wooden frame, whispering, “I’m so sorry.”

I take a deep breath, stepping away from the door, straightening myself up, and returning to a solemn knight. I walk down the hall and slip out of the maids‘ quarters , finding Wemble right where I left him. I glance back up to the balcony before mounting Wemble and riding through the forest back to the campsite.