The Knight & Princess

 We had been travelling for days, it was a dull journey, they always were. The princess, who was my current ward, was sheltered and naive. She had been reading a book for most of the journey, thankfully, I did not think I could deal with an endless conversation with her.

Still, it was the job, as tedious as it was. I hunched over, my sword resting against my shoulder, the carriage comes to a screeching halt and the princess hardly bats an eye at it as she reads. I on the other hand knew something was up, my companions were not going to just stop in the middle of nowhere, and then I heard a voice.

A shrill demand for coin and I was for once roused from my stupor. I burst out of the carriage sword in hand. To my disappointment it really was just bandits, unwashed peasants. About six, unarmored, with mostly spears and the odd sword. A pointless task, a thankless one.

My scars ached, I felt old. I mostly felt angry at this endless need for fighting, none of it with any merrit anymore. The first man approaches me, an “Oi, love, get back in the carriage”.

I don't acknowledge him, I just slam the pommel of my bastard sword into his sternum with a sickening crunch as he crumples into a heap. The next man jabs a spear at me, clumsy, overextended. I step to the side and draw my sword, the edge nicking his throat as I draw it free, blood splatters me as momentum carries him into a heap on the ground. At least it was warm. I think to myself as another approach, full of rage and vengeance.

A curious overhead swing as he runs mindlessly at me. I grab the smaller man's wrist before he gets even close to bringing it down. I see the fear in his eyes as I hold his sword hand above his head, moments later my sword slams into his neck mashing deep into his collarbone. 

I yank my sword and his body in opposite directions, a torrent of blood as I throw him out of my way. I felt apathetic, this was just another fight, another day. None of this mattered, even the killing was dull at this point. 

An arrow strikes me in the shoulder, slipping past the plates and into my flesh. A grinding flash of pain, and endless annoyance rips through me. I see an archer notching another arrow, clearly unnerved by my lack of reaction to it. My mind is unsure if I should rush him or just let him shoot me again.

It becomes irrelevant pretty soon as an arrow juts out of his eye, one of my companions taking him out. I watch as he sinks to the ground, life slowly slipping from him. I sigh in frustration at it all, my hand going to the shaft of wood in my shoulder.

The princess steps from the carriage, less upset from the ordeal than I would have expected. Striding across the field like she owned it, she takes one look at me. A look of concern, but not worry in her eyes.

“Do not take that arrow out”

I give her an annoyed look and yank it free anyway, just to annoy her. I instantly regret it. The pain comes though in full force, blood gushing from the wound, and a look of near anger on the Princess. My vision swims.

It's not long until we are at the tavern we had been meaning to stop at, I was sitting on a table in the back. Practically shirtless, the princess sewing the wound in my shoulder, her hands coated in my blood.

Being apathetic was surprisingly hard with her, she was not interested in me being stoic. She had pushed my legs apart and stood between them to get the angle she wanted to tend my wound, and I was finding that hard to ignore. 

She was very adept at tending to the wound, and did not care about the blood. Looking at me with tender eyes. I was not quite sure what I was feeling, but she had given me a bottle of whisky for the pain, or to shut me up. 

My natural instinct was to complain, to tell her she did not need to “fuss”. That I did not need help, in truth I quite wanted her to just go. She was confident and forceful and I could not quite deal with that from this petite woman.

Eventually she has enough, an almighty thwack to my upper thigh makes me jump like I cannon had gone off. 

“Enough, you will do as you are told, and you are not going to die in some bloodrage, you are meant to protect me”

I go silent, I think my mouth might be open. I should be angry, insulted, this slip of a thing was going to chastise me. I don't want to deep down, I can see the concern in her eyes under a fair bit of anger. Her hand on my thigh where she just struck me, and I end up mumbling a “Yes my Lady”

She rolls her eyes at me, “really, its been months now, and you only refer to me correctly after being told off like a maiden”

I can feel myself going bright red, I got the feeling the bandits were going to be the least of my troubles.