ALL NOVEL Chapter II – His Idea
The knight's utterly perfect mask of politeness let no other emotion shine through as he handed the letter to the young lady before him. A piece of the finest paper, impeccably folded, sealed with the unmistakable crest of the head of state. "Once again, thank you for your services throughout the past years."
"Of course," the lady replied, her flowing curls bobbing as she curtsied. No sooner had she returned to a standing position than she began tugging at one of the corners of the paper, as if to test the solidity of the wax seal. "Please give my best to Her Majest—ah. My apologies."
"There is no need for apologies, milady." The knight waved to the other two ladies present. "We are among friends here, and these are unusual circumstances. City and Crown will both need time to adapt."
The lady smiled, reaching up above her head to lightly touch the knight on his left cheek with almost unearned brazenness, her fingers slipping under the locks of dark speckled grey hair that framed his face. She ran her finger along the long scar, then gave a gentle pat. "You always were my favorite," she said as she turned to leave the room.
The second woman stepped forward, spitting image of the first if not for the overcoat and hastily-tied ponytail. She had been standing in front of a painting of the princess, now increasingly a rarity even in remote parts of the castle such as this one. Perhaps those in charge of the redecoration effort had left this gatehouse for last.
The knight looked at the painting for a moment, then turned his attention to the second woman who bore its subject's face. He produced another letter, sealed like the first. "Thank you for your services throughout the past years. The Crown hopes that the accommodations will enable you to thrive in whichever path you choose to take."
The second lady accepted the letter. "Thanks. Uh... is there any chance we can get help with the whole..." she made broad circular gestures around her face. "Situation?"
A moment, then two. A polite nod, filled to the brim with decorum. "The Crown understands your situation. The methods used were, as you know, quite powerful. And while reversing them completely is currently not within the scope of possible options, rest assured—"
"Wait, so I'm stuck like this!? For real?"
"Rest assured," the knight continued, "that there have always been people throughout society who wish to emulate the royal appearance. As time passes and portraits are replaced, so too will the finer details make way in the people's minds for the Prince's new image."
The lady seemed unconvinced. "Yeah? So I just gotta sit and wait for people to forget this face, is that it?"
Whatever emotions the knight may have had, he kept them in check. "All previous restrictions on appearance are forfeit. This face is yours now; you may do with it as you see fit. The references listed in the letter I have given you will help you further with other aspects of your presentation, if you so wish."
Her face scrunched up for a long moment, then she sighed. "I guess that's fair. Thanks." She looked over to the third woman—sitting on a corner bench, also looking at the painting that shared her face—then back at the knight. "Sorry. This has been, like... kind of a shock, you know?"
"Of course, milady. Recent events have been unexpected for us all. The near future will require patience and understanding, but perseverance will see us through." He motioned to the door with a gloved hand, indicating with the lightest of touches that it was time for the woman to leave.
She did. "Good luck out there," she told the third and final woman with a sympathetic nod.
Her turn had come. She stood up and walked over to the knight, looking up into his eyes with an unblinking, steely-eyed stare.
"You have already received your letter," the knight said, just as stoic.
No reply.
The knight sighed, the first crack in the perfect defense of his etiquette showing at last. "Why are you here, sir?"
"I'm here to see her, Frederic."
"You, of all people, cannot be allowed in the castle."
Lou spread her arms out angrily. "I'm already in the castle! Gatehouses are part of the wall, and the wall's part of the perimeter!" She stomped the stone floor for emphasis in the least delicate way she could muster. "I taught you that. I also taught you the rights guests get once you let 'em walk through the door."
Frederic closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I told them we should have done this outside somewhere."
"Where is she?"
"I can't tell you that," Frederic replied. "You are well aware I can't tell you that." He looked down into her eyes, his mask holding strong save for hints of... sadness. Or was it pity? "Sir. Please leave. You're not supposed to be here."
Lou's face scrunched up. "I'm sup-po-sed to be by her side!" she said, mimicking Frederic's comparatively measured way of speaking. "I'm s'posed to know where she is, every hour of every day! How do I know she's safe, huh?" She poked him in the chest with an accusatory finger. "How do I know you're doing what it takes to keep her safe?"
Frederic stared unblinking as he reached out with his hand to grip hers at the wrist. Lou had seen this move hundreds of time over the years she'd spent training most, if not all of the princess's personal guard. All it took was a twist here and a flex there to reverse the attempted grab and turn it around on the would-be attacker.
But her body took far too long to respond. By the time she tried to react, Frederic's fingers were solidly around her wrist. The practiced motions didn't come as easily; the muscle memory just wasn't there. She could only pull and struggle, all for naught. Her hand may as well have been encased in stone, so strong was Frederic's grip. Her face burned with frustration, as if enough anger would suffice to hold back the mounting feelings of helplessness.
Frederic bent down on one knee, his eyes now level with her chin. He maintained his grip as Lou began to supplement her struggling with outright strikes against his upper chest and shoulders.
"On your feet! Don't you dare patronize me!" she shouted, raining blow upon ineffectual blow on Frederic's dress uniform. But the knight did not even flinch.
"Sir," he said, concern beginning to show on his face. "Sir, please. You need to leave."
"I need to see her," Lou said, choking back emotions she wasn't ready to let out, much less in full view of anyone else. She hit him once more for emphasis.
"Our needs, sir," Frederic said as softly as Lou had ever heard him speak, "are a distant third. We both know that."
Lou kept her hand on his chest, slowly opening up her fist to grab a fistful of fabric. "I haven't caught a single glimpse of her since that day, did you know that? I haven't been allowed into the castle. No one's told me anything. All I got was a midnight escort and that damn letter." She took a shaky breath. "What am I s'posed to do?"
Frederic stayed silent.
She looked down at Frederic's hand, then at the much smaller hand it was holding. "Who can I trust to keep her safe?"
"Sir." Frederic waited until Lou made eye contact again before continuing. "You can trust him. You can trust the Prince."
The words hit much harder than she expected. Much deeper, too. All the way to an image, a picture in her mind; one that she wasn't ready to let go of. Lou couldn't help but look at the painting again. Possibly the last one still untouched. "Does she know," Lou said, her voice shaking, her heart threatening to beat its way out of her chest as she once again locked eyes with the knight, "you're calling her that?"
"The Prince requested it, sir. It's what he wants." Frederic's mask returned in full force. "This was his idea."
Lou's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes drifted down, her vision blurring as she gripped Frederic's uniform even tighter. The painting she had been looking at not even a minute ago now may as well have been lost to time. "Why did sh—" she began to say, catching herself mid-word. She took a difficult breath. "How come I'm the last one to know?" she finally asked, her voice a high-pitched, hoarse shadow of itself. "Which one of you decided that I deserved to be kept in the dark like this? My place is in there and you know it! Why'd you make it sound like I died? Why'd you throw me out with the garbage? Why?!"
"Sir," Frederic said as he reached out with his free hand to keep her steady. He repeated the words, more methodically this time: "This was his idea."
Lou hadn't even realized she was losing her balance. Every part of her was already fighting not to lose something far more important, deep in her mind: the most precious memory, itself unbreachable, but anchored to two things that were far more fragile than she had ever expected. If both the starting point and the destination were to change, how could the space between them stay the same?
"B-but," Lou stammered, "what about the drills? The defense protocols? Who's gonna—"
"We are carrying on your work, sir, but it's largely unnecessary. The Prince is unmatched in combat. No one can touch him. Not even his instructors." Frederic finally let go of Lou's wrist, turning his gloved hand over in front of her. "Not even me."
Lou felt her cheek hit Frederic's chest before her mind even registered that she was falling. One of the knight's arms gave her support while the other slipped around her shoulders in a tight hug. No, she told herself, I am not gonna cry in the arms of my second in command. I can at least save that last remaining sliver of my dignity. But before she could get to the end of that thought the tears were already flowing and oh gods above and below the sobbing wouldn't stop.
Not at first, at least. Nor for a few minutes. But, eventually, it did, and the remote gatehouse's makeshift meeting room was relatively quiet once again.
"To the Prince's credit, sir, he did want to give you the news personally," Frederic said, weighing his words carefully. "But the logistics made that... difficult. At least in the short term."
"I get it," Lou said in a raspy whisper, almost struggling to breathe through the crushing tightness in her chest. "I ain't useful anymore. He... hic! He wants me to go away." She stared through the wall at some unspecified point in the distance, defeated and spent. "He wants me gone."
"Sir!" Frederic said in an uncharacteristic mix of empathy and disbelief as he held Lou up by the shoulders, gently shaking some sense into his former comrade in arms. "Sir, he wants you to be happy."
Her eyes focused on him, the odd stubborn tear flowing down her cheek. She didn't try to stop it; whatever shame she had left had long since been poured out onto the stone floor.
"The method was clinical but the intent was true. The Prince is not the best at showing his feelings, but he does care for you. He wants you to be well taken care of, wherever you go."
"Heh. Wherever I go..." Lou blinked away the last bit of wetness from her eyes. "Where can I go?"
"Anywhere, sir," Frederic said, rising to his feet. He took out a handkerchief and offered it, his demeanor quickly returning to its previous unflappable state. "As I told your collea—" Frederic stopped, correcting himself. "As I told the former royal decoys, you have resources at your disposal. I will personally give you a glowing reference on behalf of the royal guard, no matter where you wish to go."
Lou looked back to the lone painting in the room for a long moment, as if to commit it to memory one last time. She looked back to Frederic, took a deep breath, and then held out her hand. "Promise?"
The knight took her hand and shook it firmly. "You have my word."
Lou smiled for the first time that day; the first time in many days.
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