Tears and Blood

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. On the white battlefield stood a young woman, not yet twenty years of age. Her eyes were blue as the Free Sea, and there was a fierceness behind them. While many men fought for glory, fame, wealth, she fought for herself, her family, her life. She gave it her all and she fought valiantly. It was an admirable trait, her undying determination. No matter how many enemies they faced, she would face them head on. Sometimes he wondered if she was aware death existed.

Watching her fight was enchanting, he wanted nothing more than to watch her forever. It could become a bit of a problem on the battlefield, when he couldn't tear his eyes off her, but it made him braver and stronger. He knew if she could endure, then so could he.

But that fateful day, he saw the fierceness leave her eyes. When the young Prince Chester fell on the field of roses, he watched the once fierce princess crumble and break. She threw herself at her brother's bleeding body, scrambling to put pressure on the wound on his side. When the light left his eyes, all she could do was hold his body close as she wept. The tears fell on his still chest and mixed with the blood.

A soldier from the other side snuck up behind her, but Lord Harlan protected her. He fought them off while she sat on the cold, hard ground. He would have protected her with his life, but their reinforcements came riding in on their white horses before he could. Eventually, the true King had killed the opposition and the remaining soldiers retreated. The war was over, but what was done was done. The prince was dead, the princess was broken, and the bells would cry out for their lost heir.

The king had to tear his daughter off her brother's corpse, she had clung on to him with all her might, digging her fingers into his body until the skin broke. When they tore her off, you wouldn't know who it was that died. Her face was pale and red from the tears she had wept, her hair dishevelled, and her eyes were as dark as the deep sea on a lonely night.

The royal twins had been inseparable, two halves of a person, and now only one half remained. King Armand brought her every medic he could find in the country, tried every medicine to find one that could help her, but none worked. This wasn't something a salve could solve; when she lost her brother, she lost a part of herself. And it could never be restored.

But she herself still remained. She was breathing, her heart beat in her chest, and her life was not over yet.

After burying the prince, she visited a mill he had frequented. The miller's daughter had been close to him, and she expressed her sorrow for the princess. In the girl she found a friend, a confidant who would help carry her burdens. With this friend she found the pressure on her shoulder lightened for the first time in weeks. They shared bittersweet stories of the prince, and helped each other through their grief. For the first time since the battle, Princess Clematis graced the world with her laughter.

☙ ❧

Three years after the death of the crown prince, King Armand and his Queen Agnes held a big feast with the biggest tournament the realm had ever seen. The winner of the tournament would get to choose their prize, anything that they asked of the king he would provide. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and every man in the kingdom that could wield a sword eagerly signed up.

Many knights, lords, and even lowborn men were to compete, but the one who caught the princess' eye was one many overlooked; Lord Harlan Marston. He was a lord, yes, but in the eyes of most he was an unimpressive, ordinary man. Princess Clematis, on the other hand, knew him very well. They had fought side by side in the war, and he protected her on the Field of Roses. He was a loyal man who lost his family young and has been resolute in protecting the weak since. During the many cold nights between battles, they had sat beside each other and found warmth in the bitter sting of winter. She had never felt lonely with him by her side.

After her brother's death, she heard he had asked for her. Though she had not had the mind to meet him, she had felt a sense of longing in her heart. For a moment, when she saw him, all she wanted was to run into his arms and feel that warmth again.

The tournament went on for many days, the men fought during the day and feasted at night. It was a lively affair, and by the time the fighters were down to two, people didn't want to leave.

Five days after the tournament's start, only two competitors remained; Sir Lyndon of House Fairburn, a knight who had fought for the king for many years, and Lord Harlan Marston. They fought tirelessly and valiantly, lasting much longer than the others, but one man had to be crowned victor. Sir Lyndon fell and surrendered, rendering Lord Harlan the victor. He was given a purple flower crown by the princess for his bravery, and when asked what his wish was, he got down on his knees.

"I would ask only one thing of you, Your Grace," he asked humbly. "For the princess' hand in marriage."

Before the king could respond, the princess all but yelled, "It would be a shame to waste your one wish on that, Lord Harlan. I would've married you even if you had fallen face first in the dirt before the tourney began."

And with that, there was nothing the king could've said to stop them.