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littlelovingideas · 1 year

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“Let Me” 18+!!!!

Rick x Reader - “Let me”

Alrighty.... here it is. I finally sat my ass down and got this done. If I didn’t make myself work on it, I’d have never finished it. And honestly.... I’m not sure how I feel about it yet, but I guess it’s because I haven’t had a chance to come back to it and see it from a fresh perspective.

Regardless, I am happy to finally post it and truly hope it meets your expectations, or that you at least enjoy it!

I burst through the door of my home causing a huge bang to ring out, and awkwardly hobbled over to the couch where I promptly dropped my duffel bag and myself.

The sudden commotion caused Rick to peer around the corner from the kitchen at me,

“You alright?” he questioned, concern spreading over his features

“Yep” I winced, gingerly pulling up my pant leg to examine my ankle.

No swelling, no bruising... that’s a good sign. I am extraordinarily clumsy, so much so that it’s almost a running joke in the community of Alexandria. Why anyone ever allowed me out on runs, I’ll never know. But I guess when it comes down to it, I can do what I need to and that’s what matters the most.

“Hey, hey” Rick strode over, his face still taught with worry, “let me take a look”.

He kneels down in front of me and slowly takes my foot into his large hands. For a man who’s hands are so calloused and rough, his touch sure is delicate. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through my body, and I try to ignore the image of Rick kneeling before me. I swallow hard and stare at the ceiling, hoping to avoid my brain running away with that thought.

“So, you gonna tell me what happened this time?”, he almost chuckled, and I simply rolled my eyes in response.

“Long story short,” I started, feeling a grin creep it’s way across my face, “I guess I forgot how to walk and tripped over a root. I rolled it pretty good. I just wish I had a cooler story”. His blue eyes flashed up at me, eliciting a short chuckle from him as he shook his head.

“Well, it doesn’t look like it’s sprained, so I think you’re safe.” He sighed, “As for how it happened, we can just tell people they should see the other guy.”

Rick winked at me, and a chortle escaped my throat at his comment.

I’d been friends with Rick for a long time, ever since the prison. And I’d be lying through my teeth if I’d said I hadn’t been attracted to him since day 1, but when we met between Hershel’s farm and the prison he had much bigger, much more personal things going on. I wanted to be respectful and kept my distance, despite his marriage with Lori clearly being over. I knew the love he had for her ran deep, as did the love for the infant she’d been carrying.

I couldn’t help but wonder sometimes if he had similar feelings for me though. Every now and then, when I’d turn around, I could almost swear that his gaze was lingering on me before he’d swiftly turn around and resume what he was doing.

I still didn’t want to risk making anything awkward, or ruining the friendship that had bloomed between us, especially as we were currently sharing a house together in Alexandria. But once again I’d be an absolutely filthy liar if I tried to tell you that living in such close quarters with him and having such a domestic lifestyle didn’t cause my feelings to become stronger. It just felt so natural. So much so that I could see us having a life together of our own. I was great with Judith, and I’d nurtured a bond with Carl. I loved them both like my own. And yet, I couldn’t allow myself to admit my feelings for Rick, despite how naturally our friendship had flourished months ago.

I tore my mind away from my thoughts and back to reality, where Rick was still kneeled before me, with an eyebrow cocked and a questioning look emanating from his gorgeous blue eyes.

“What’s got you so deep in thought?” he questioned, in almost a teasing manner.I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

I felt a mild blush start to creep across my cheeks as I just shook my head,

“Oh, nothing. Was just day-dreaming”, I fibbed. I wasn’t about to tell him it was about him, bu there it was... t I couldn’t help noticing that his gaze had also lingered momentarily. Just for a moment, but I was almost certain at what I’d seen.

He cleared his throat, before getting up and straightening out his pant legs,

“Well, your foot seems ok. Just try to keep it up and, maybe take it easy for the next few days. Lots of capable people here to go out for supplies.” He winked and I watched, almost hypnotized as his long, toned legs carried him back into the kitchen.

God, did I ever want to know what those thighs felt like beneath me.

My skin was still burning from where he touched my foot. I could almost still feel his fingers on me, gently caressing away any pain I’d had.

Once again, I shook my head, trying to get rid of those damn thoughts, and pulled myself off the couch and up the stairs to bed, calling out a quick “Good night” to Rick before disappearing over the landing..

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I awoke slowly, feeling the dryness of my throat.

As I came around, I realized the entirety of the house was silent and immediately knew it must have still been the middle of the night.

Ever since we got this house, Rick was adamant on allowing me the bedroom. I had tried to tell him I didn’t need it, but he was content enough just sleeping on the couch- and so sleep on the couch he did.

Sometimes though, I couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to share a bed with him, feeling his warm body next to me, our limbs tangled up with one another’s ... taking in his scent as we lay in bed together. Oh, his scent.

Sometimes, the thought of his warmth in the bed next to me would lead my mind to other things, like his weight above me, his blue eyes staring down at me intently. I tried to imagine how his face would look coated with lust. I tried to imagine his voice- I could only expect that it would be much lower and gravelly than normal. I sighed to myself as I felt my throat grow even dryer at the mental images my brain was producing, and flung the covers back to get a glass of water.

Slowly, I snuck down the hall, past Carl and Judith’s rooms, and down the steps. The hardwood floors were cool beneath my feet, and I enjoyed the sensation as I padded through the house to the kitchen.

As I passed through the living room, I couldn’t help but notice Rick was still awake- he had the side lamp on and was stretched out with a book in-hand. I spotted the title and immediately recognized it as one I’d brought back from my run earlier. A smile crept across my face as I continued on into the kitchen.

I took a few moments to drink my water, and take in the silence of the house. The silence. It’s something we didn’t get much of in the prior months, or even years, since the beginning of all of this. Sometimes, it was almost deafening. But most of the time, it was extremely welcome. I sighed contentedly, and headed back through the living room where Rick was still seated, but this time he was resting the book in his lap and his eyes were fixed on me.

Maybe it was the dim lighting from the lamp next to him, but his eyes seemed softer than usual.

I grinned, trying to ignore the slight awkwardness creeping up inside from not knowing what to do.

“So, I see you like the book?”

“Yeah”, he replied, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it, “It was one of my favourites.”

“Yeah, I remembered you telling me about it, a while ago and couldn’t help picking it up yesterday. I knew you’d enjoy it”.

His eyes were still trained on me, his gaze nearly burning a hole through me. I subconsciously toyed with the hem of my sleep shirt, feeling mildly awkward and not knowing what to do.

A thick silence filled the room.

“Well,” I cleared my throat, “I’m glad you like it, get some rest and I’ll see you bright and early as usual.”

Just as I turned to go back up the stairs, Rick’s voice rung out, slicing into the silence in the room, calling my name.

I stopped and turned back around, only to see him on his feet and striding over to me. His bare feet not making a sound despite how quickly he was upon me.

Before I knew it, Rick was towering over me, his eyes boring into mine. His scent overwhelmed my senses, and the warmth radiating from his torso was making my head spin.

His eyes were darker than I’d seen them before, keeping me entirely in a trance with no idea what to do or what to say.

I lightly gasped as I felt his hand come to rest on my waist.

The tension between us was almost electric.

“Rick, I-” I stammered, but he cut me off, gently shushing me.

“I see the way you look at me”, he stated, “I see it all the time, and I’d be a fool not to notice-.”

I felt my cheeks get insanely hot, and prayed to all that was holy that it wasn’t visible in the darkness.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you-”

Again, he cut me off,

“No. You have nothing to apologize for. I was going to say I’d also be a fool not to feel the same way”, he chuckled quietly, biting his lip, “I see what you do for me, Carl and Judith. Always going out of your way for us. Doing more than you need to”.

I looked at the floor for a moment, thinking about his words- and he was right. Always picking up something that I thought one of them would like, whether it be comics for Carl, some toys for Judith, for Rick- books, clothing, favourite snacks, etc.

I guess I’d never really acknowledged it but I had a deep-seated desire to take care of the man who so tirelessly took care of everyone else. Call it what you will, but I realized I loved this man and must have been inadvertently showing it this entire time.

My cheeks burned as the sudden reality washed over me.

I felt a calloused finger make the most gentle contact with my chin, and pull my face up to look him in the eyes again.

He didn’t blink. His gaze never faltered. The hand that was under my chin slowly but surely made it’s way to the base of my neck, where he firmly, yet ever so gently pulled me towards him.

I was like putty in his hands at this point, my entire body was on fire and I could barely process what was happening. Time felt like it was moving in slow motion.

Our faces were so close, I could just barely feel his lips ghosting over mine. His smell was so intoxicating. He hesitated for a moment,

:”Is this okay?”

I barely skipped a beat, nodding my head vigorously.

With that, he closed the gap between us and pressed his lips against mine. They were soft. So incredibly soft.

Rick was always such a rough and tumble guy, and despite having seen him with Judith and with Carl, I was almost shocked with how soft and gentle he was being with me.

Electricity surged through my veins. My head swam. The room spun.

Our lips moved against one another, slowly growing more passionate, sighs beginning to tumble from our lips between lingering kisses.

My hands snaked their way up his chest, pausing for a moment so I could savour the warmth radiating from under his shirt. His shoulders were broad and I could feel his muscles gliding under his skin as his hand worked through my hair.

I had touched Rick before- being friends for years, this was nothing new to me- but this situation felt incredibly different. I’d never touched him in this way, while allowing my desire to guide me.

The warmth of his body was causing the fantasies from earlier to return in full force, fueled by the sound of his breathing becoming heavier and the closeness of our bodies.

Slowly, he pulled away and met my gaze. A shaky breath escaped my lips.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Rick asked, his blue eyes absolutely burning into mine.

Slowly, I stepped forward until our bodies were pressed together, holding Rick’s gaze.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”, I state boldly, while simultaneously questioning where this sudden confidence was coming from.

My breath hitched as Rick’s strong hand squeezed my waist and pressed my body even tighter to his, and in the dim lighting I saw a smirk begin to work its way across his beautiful lips.

Before I knew what was happening, his strong hands made contact with the backs of my thighs and within one swift movement I was no longer on the ground, and instead, resting on his hips.

I could feel his strong fingers massaging my ass, while balancing me perfectly against him and giving my aching core a sense of relief as I felt his cock pressing against me. Suddenly, I was aware of just how wet I was for him, and could wait no longer.

My mind flooded with things I’d only been able to dream of before, but now, it was really going to happen. I could no longer wait to finally see his beautiful face contorted with pleasure, or hear his voice low and rough, thick with lust. I needed to feel his weight above me, and allow him to fill me completely.

The thought made my pussy twitch, and I gasped as I felt his cock return the favour beneath me.

“Rick” I gasped, my fingers tugging at his soft curls, “Take me”.

He growled.

“Shit, I thought you’d never ask”, and with that, he wasted no time heading for the stairs.

Moments later, he was crashing into the bedroom, our lips still colliding and my small frame still held tightly against his tall, muscular body, panting and gasping during our passionate exchange.

The entire time I could feel my pussy twitching as every step he took pressed his cock right into my needy core before tumbling onto the bed with me still in his arms.

Not wasting another moment, my fingers began frantically undoing the buttons on his shirt, hungrily grasping at the material and yearning to feel his skin on mine.

His hands were so large and warm as they slid beneath my shirt, gently grabbing and squeezing the soft flesh of my sides. I felt so small beneath his touch, and the feeling only turned me on more. I wanted to submit to him entirely.

I watched as he sat up for a moment and let his gaze trail down my body to admire the scene before him, his piercing blue eyes stopping for a moment as they caught sight of my nipples pressing through the delicate fabric of my shirt. His eyes were full of lust, and what also seemed like disbelief as he continued to take all of me in.

His hands worked my shirt up further, exposing my midriff and my hips. He pressed his fingers into the softness of my stomach, and slowly, agonizingly trailed them downwards to play with the hem of my panties.

They were plain. Cotton. A simple bow in front. And yet he looked on admiringly regardless.

He continued staring intently, and I began to squirm under his gaze, simultaneously turned on and feeling slightly self conscious.

His eyes flashed back up to mine and he must have noticed my inquisitive look, because continued dragging his hand downward until he traced my slit over the fabric, causing me to buck my hips and stifle a whimper.

Rick sucked in a breath as I felt him press his thumb gently against the pooling wetness in my panties.

His cock twitched in his pants, tearing my focus away from his face and I felt my eyes widen at the size of what I would be working with. His cock was so hard that I could see a clear outline of his shape straining against his thigh.

My needy cunt clenched and our eyes flickered to one another, knowing he felt it as he toyed with my slit some more. His touch was agonizingly slow and delicate, so much so that it almost irritated me.

Without warning, while holding my gaze, he pressed against the now clear wet spot and a slight sigh tumbled from his lips as he felt the slick seep through the fabric and coat his fingers.

My jaw fell slack and I thought I saw a trace of amusement flit across his features as I felt my eyelids flutter at the sensation.

“Baby” I breathed, “Please, touch me”.

Rick’s head tilted back and his adams apple dipped as he swallowed hard, trying to stifle a moan at my sudden words before allowing himself to fall forward over me and staring me directly in the face.

Once again, his eyes were boring into mine and I could do nothing but stare back.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this” I murmured, “I’ve thought about your touch more times than I can count”.

His eyes only seemed to darken more as he took in my words.

“Oh yeah? That all you thought about darlin’?” he growled in my ear.

My tongue trailed over my bottom lip before I responded,

“No”.

Rick smirked and cocked an eyebrow, moving my panties to the side and ever so slowly feeling soft flesh of my lips.

“Tell me what else”.

I gulped. Suddenly, his eye contact intimidated me. I gathered my strength, and slowly mustered out the words I know he’d been waiting for,

“Your cock”, I sighed,

Immediately he knelt down the rest of the way and the tip of his tongue parted my lips, ghosting lightly over my most sensitive bundle of nerves, just as delicately as the words ghosted over my lips.

Immediately I bucked my hips again and my hands hungrily tangled themselves in his hair. One had continued to hold my panties to the side, and slid a large finger inside my desperate centre. He slowly worked his other hand up to massage my inner thigh.

“Good girl” he murmured against my cunt.

“You take such good care of us” he continued, barely above a whisper “Now let me take care of you”

I inhaled so sharply as his lips formed a seal around my clit and he graced me with a moan- the vibration and sound combined to send me into a frenzy, my vision going white for a moment.

I felt him chuckle against me, as he continued to pump his finger in and out of me, before sliding another one inside in one fluid motion.

My fingers pulled his hair and I no longer had control of my body as my hips bucked and squirmed, trying to grind into him. He gratified me and pressed his face into my soaking wet centre once again, his tongue expertly attending to me where I needed him most.

Just then, without warning, he pulled away to tower over me once again.

I whined at the sudden absence of his touch, and felt my pussy clench for the millionth time around nothing as he licked his lips and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.

I felt my eyebrows furrow and had to resist the urge to pout at his sudden withdrawal, because as much as I was disappointed to lose his touch, I also knew what was coming next.

Just as I suspected, his hands went straight for his belt and expertly undid it in one expert movement.

I watched as he undid his button, zipper and then slowly slide his pants down.

His cock finally sprung out, and I felt myself salivating at the thought of taking him into my mouth, my eyes locked onto his length, staring hungrily.

I couldn’t tell what I wanted more- to feel his cock in my mouth, or to feel him stretch out my soaking cunt, and I think he could tell.

“Easy, girl” he bit his lip, slowly rubbing himself a couple of times through his boxers, looking at me with clear amusement on his face yet again.

“Rick”, my voice was much lower than I anticipated, “Take it off”.

He smirked again, hooking his thumbs into his waistband and taking his sweet time working his boxers down over his hips- doing so agonizingly slowly over his shaft, watching me closely to gauge my reaction.

“Rick“, his name came out as more of a squeak, “Please. I need you”.

He paused for a moment, contemplating whether he was going to adhere to my demands or not, clearly feeling cocky.

Finally, he decided to give me what I’d asked for and freed himself- my jaw fell open as I finally got to take in the beauty of this man in his purest form.

My mouth watered, and without waiting, I was up on my knees and crawling towards him.

I hesitated before taking his thick cock in my hand - the sheer size made my hand look so small. His cock twitched in my hand, as I admired each and every inch of him. His cock was even more beautiful than I’d imagined, and unable to wait a second longer, I took him into my mouth.

His head fell back and I heard his breath catch as the head of his cock made contact with my warm tongue. I began slow- swirling my tongue gently around his head, taking in the warmth and savouring the taste of him. While I worked the head with my tongue, I gently pumped his shaft with my other hand.

A string of curse words spilled from his lips between pants and poorly stifled grunts.

His cock twitched in my mouth as he fought the urge to thrust into my throat. I placed my other hand on his toned thigh to brace myself, allowing my thumb to massage small circles into his skin.

I formed a seal with my lips and let him fall from my mouth with a gentle ‘pop’, before working my way down, dragging my lips down the underside of his dick, and then flicking my tongue back up his length, following the most beautiful vein I’d seen, before placing the lightest kiss to his tip which was soaked in precum.

At that, his hand effortlessly found its way into my hair and collected a handful. I allowed my lips to part for him, and took in as much of him as I possibly could, letting my jaw fall open as far as it could, and trying to accommodate hm into my throat as best I could without gagging.

His grip in my hair tightened and he briefly thrusted into me as he lost control of himself for a moment, causing me to gag, and his cock to twitch a few times at the sensation of my throat contracting around him.

My tongue flicked up and down, while I also bobbed on his dick, wanting to give him the best sensation I could.

Just then, Rick pulled my hair and removed me from his dick. Forcefully.

I looked up at him, and my attention turned to my own pussy and how much I had drenched my underwear and my thighs. I loved looking at him from this angle, it felt so god damn erotic.

“Stop. I’m supposed to be taking care of you” he hissed.

“Sorry”, I shrugged, “I couldn’t help myself”

Rick chucked darkly and tilted his head,

“I had no idea you were such a giver.”

I had no response, I just smiled back proudly, knowing just from his response that I’d already exceeded his expectations.

After another moment, I turned my attention from his eyes back to his cock, and realized it was truly the most incredible thing I’d ever seen.

I couldn’t get enough. He was the perfect combination of hard and strong, but also so smooth in my mouth.

“I love tasting you”. I didn’t even think before responding, and my eyes widened at the words that just fell from my mouth.

“Fuck” he growled, “Bend over”

He grabbed me firmly and flipped me over in one fluid movement, pressing his hand down on my back to signal me to bend, with which I complied.

I spread my legs and buried my face into the pillow just in time, as he immediately also buried his cock in my pussy. The stretch was incredible, and I cried out as my pussy suddenly had to adapt to his size.

The strength of his cock was even better in my pussy, and feeling how hard he was absolutely drove me insane. The pillow muffled what would have been an uncontrolled moan, and I felt his strong hand slap my ass before kneading into me again.

His dick twitched and throbbed inside me, while his hands gripped my hips. His thrusts were sloppy, and his other hand worked it’s way around to my front and found that little nub between my legs.

Feeling his weight behind me, the pads of his fingers expertly working me, his thrusts sloppy and hard, and the soft, restrained moans and grunts tumbling from his lips and into my ears was nearly too much to take.

I felt my cunt contracting around him, and I know he felt it too as he pulled out and roughly slammed back into me, the sound of skin on skin slapping filled the room, along with our ragged breathing and the occasionally profane exclamations.

“Fuck baby” he grunted, as his pace quickened, “You feel so good”.

His fingers continued to rub circles into my clit, adjusting to my responses and reactions. He began to put more pressure and the circles matched tempo with his thrusts.

I felt my stomach begin to tighten, and that familiar jolt of pleasure signalling the arrival of my climax. I shoved my face back into the pillow and cried out as my cunt began to twitch.

:”Cum for me babe”. he groaned

“Please” I cried between gasps, “Please cum in me.”.

I tried to hold back on my climax, until I felt his cock begin twitching as well and he could no longer control his moans and grunts.

I finally allowed myself my own release, and Ricks hands grabbed my ass as hard as he could while we both rode out our high’s together.

Eventually, his thrusts slowed, and we both collapsed onto the bed- him on top of me, and his cock still twitching lazily inside of me.

He placed a kiss to my cheek and sighed contentedly before rolling off me and pulling my small body into his, holding me protectively and stroking my hair, before we eventually drifted off together.

I was absolutely looking forward to this new dynamic, and couldn’t wait to continue taking care of each other.

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #twd x reader #twd #rick grimes twd #the walking dead #rick grimes fluff #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes imagine #text #let me #littlelovingideas

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theteasetwrites · 1 year

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Merciless Beauty

Chapter 3: The Wound Is Quick and Keen

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, scary situation, violence and gore, references to death and traumatic situations (including child abuse) ❧ Word Count: 6.6k

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: Sir Daryl escorts you outside the walls of Alexandria for the first time, and though the excursion is mostly pleasant, it is rife with danger. A close call leads the two of you to a secluded cottage that only Daryl knows of, where a bond begins to grow.

❧ A/N: The princess is free! Well, kind of. She is so cute I love her. And Daryl... UGH. Literally the best. I don't have much to say about this part, but I wanna give a quick shoutout to all my friends who have been beta-reading this series! @weretheones @finalgirlrick @darylspissslit @devnmon @purple-witch-23 @littlelovingideas @spncupcake thanks so much friends!! I appreciate you<3 Also pls check out their work because they also write TWD stuff and it's amazing

The long, dark, sepulchral tunnel seemed at once cavernous and claustrophobic, with the light of the knight’s torch only illuminating a few feet ahead, but the feeling of a much wider expanse of darkness, in which shadows that may or may not have really been there lurked within the blackest corners. It was no small wonder they had been not-so-lovingly dubbed The Tombs.

Though you were sure nothing was behind you, it felt as though an unseen entity stalked you, stepping on your heels despite no real physical weight overcoming you. There were always rumors around court about these tunnels, how they were haunted by the souls of those who perished in the first struggle against the Dead, but you tried not to pay mind to those rumors. After all, that would mean your own mother haunted these dank, miserable passages, and that was a fate worse than death, you thought.

But Daryl knew this tunnel now, having made sure the path was clear and snuck his horse out to meet you at the end of the underpass just an hour before. Still, you found yourself not straying more than a foot from him, his broad, cloaked back becoming a strange source of comfort to you in this abyss of darkness.

“You’re sure there are no dead ones in here?” you whispered. “It smells of… death.”

“I went through here twice… No walkers.”

“Walkers?”

“Dead ones.”

Oh. A colloquial term.

Silence settled in again, with only the echoes of globs of water dripping onto the rough cobbled stone to fill the eerie space where words had provided some relief. In that silence, your anxiousness caught up with you―what if Elizabeth’s lie fell through? She’d informed the guards not to disturb you in your chambers, that you had fallen ill and needed rest. She left strict instructions not to check on you, for fear of contagion. And with your father out of town, there shouldn’t have been any chance for disturbances. Even so, the only thing more terrifying than this tunnel was the idea of having less freedom than you already did. Being confined to your bedchamber for the rest of your life, surely, would’ve been the punishment if the king discovered your escape. He wasn’t a cruel man, but his overbearing nature could inadvertently lead to such a cruel decision.

When a horse’s neigh startled you from your thoughts, you stumbled forward to cling to the knight’s upper arm, which flexed and stiffened in response to your sudden movement. Your chest pressed firmly against his back, he felt you briefly shiver in fear, though as your senses came back to you, you chided yourself for your jumpiness.

“S-sorry, Sir Daryl.”

If he wasn’t caught in a rather serious situation, he might’ve let his internal amusement at your persistent formality manifest itself in the form of a chuckle, but he only huffed instead. “Just Daryl.”

Blinking hard, you loosened your grip on his arm, reluctantly pulling yourself away. He seemed to radiate warmth, and this tunnel was so cold and frightening. “Sorry. Daryl.”

He peered over his shoulder to speak again. “Stop sayin’ sorry.”

With a sniffle, you nodded your head. “Sor―” You stopped yourself. “All right.”

The further you traveled, the louder the sounds of Daryl’s horse, which provided some comfort now. It meant you were getting closer to getting out of here, and closer to fresh air.

At the end of the tunnel, Daryl placed his torch in the iron sconce hanging on the wall of a modest wooden door, with a thick bar placed across to prevent the Dead (or alive) from getting in. There stood the knight’s horse, too, hardly visible in the blackness that matched his sleek, shiny coat. From what you could see, though, the horse was beautiful, with a long crimped mane of ebony and a long forelock draping messily, yet gracefully, over his eyes. Upon each leg was a slight feathering, just above his hooves, nearly cloaking them.

“What a beautiful horse.” As he lifted the bar with a huff, he looked your way to see your hands caressing the animal’s neck, and his black nose buried in the loose tendrils of your hair. “Oh!” you laughed. “Friendly, too. What’s his name?”

Daryl wiped the sweat from his brow as he spoke bluntly. “Phantom.”

“Oh.” You sounded a little disappointed. “Well, that’s not a very friendly name for such a friendly horse.”

The knight scoffed as he took the horse’s reigns. “He ain’t friendly. He’s a warhorse.”

He didn’t expect such a look of excited curiosity to form upon your face. “Oh, a destrier? How grand.”

With one hand guiding the horse towards the door, the other unlatching the final lock, Daryl looked back at you. You could see a sliver of bright light pouring in through the thin line where the door was beginning to open. Of course, you’d seen light before, but not like this, not from this direction. Somehow, it was different.

“You wanna stand around talkin’ about horses all day or you wanna go outside?”

The last thing you wanted to do was spend more time inside this rotten intestine of a tunnel. “Lead the way, Sir―I mean, Daryl.”

Trying to avoid the inevitable smirk that formed on his face, he pushed the door open further, slowly guiding Phantom into the light of day, which allowed the horse’s coat to shine an almost reddish chestnut tone.

But the horse’s beauty was momentarily eclipsed by the magnificent glade of silver birch trees before you, a simple dirt path diverging through the forest. You’d seen these trees from high above, and from a great distance, outside your window, but never had you seen them so close, so almost within reach. Many times you’d reached your hand out, imagining you could touch the trees, but now, there was nothing standing between you and that forest.

As you stepped forward, you relished in the feeling of dirt and leaves underfoot. You’d felt the ground before, in the garden and the courtyard, but this was something different, something new. In fact, you wanted to feel it on your bare skin, the closeness of the earth.

While Daryl busied himself with readying the horse’s saddle, you were stripping yourself of your brown leather shoes, letting one bare foot take your first step as you worked on removing the other shoe.

The knight looked wide-eyed at you, your feet now sinking into the dirt beneath you. “What the hell are you doin’?”

To his surprise, you let out a sing-song laugh as you took several more steps towards the forest. With your head down, your hair draping all around the sides of your face, you were focused on the movements of your feet, as if you could feel the sensation through your eyes.

“I used to run around barefoot as a child,” you said, lifting your face to his. He was greeted by a wide, toothy grin, the likes of which he hadn’t seen upon your face. He’d seen the joyful expression upon your face when he offered to escort you outside the walls, but this was something else entirely, accompanied by bright, carefree eyes that captured the glow of the sunlight streaming down to consume the last of the early morning mist. “It’s just not the same in the courtyard at the castle.”

Your attention peeled away from the knight as you took in the trees all around you, tall and magnificent, surely hundreds of years old. The stories these trees could tell, the things they’d seen—you’d hoped that their knowledge would make up for your lack of it for the past ten years. If you couldn’t have seen such things, at least they had.

Absentmindedly, you meandered towards the trees, your arms outstretching the closer you got as you prepared to touch them. Daryl could only look on in slightly amused confusion at your wonderment for such mundane objects of nature, but he had to remember, it’d been a long time since you’d seen these things out in the wilds, outside of the manicured gardens and meticulously trimmed botanicals found within the walls of the castle to which you were confined. Still, the little laughs and sweet giggles that bubbled up from within you were undeniably delightful.

But Daryl couldn’t let you spend all day admiring a silver birch tree. He hopped upon Phantom and instructed the beast forward, until a blackness swallowed your peripheral vision. As you blinked your attention towards the knight, his hand now outstretched to you, you noticed your shoes had been stuffed carefully inside the saddlebag near his thigh.

“C’mon,” he said with a nod of his head. “There’s more than this.”

Your bare feet skipped delicately through waves upon waves of tall white beardtongue, the petals of which occasionally tickled your bare thighs when they got caught inside your gown. You had to admit the feeling gave you a rush so strong that you skipped faster through the meadow, careful not to trample over any of the wildflowers.

Daryl’s presence was a comfort to you, him standing at the edge of the meadow with Phantom’s reins in his hand, and your velvet teal cloak draped over the crook of his elbow as he watched dutifully. Though no walkers had come across your path yet, he worried most about the poor, soft soles of your feet being marred by the elements. These thoughts were always immediately dismissed, though, as his job wasn’t to fret over your cleanliness, but your life.

“Oh, Daryl!” you called out, alerting him a bit too well as he instinctively grasped for the hilt of the greatsword strapped to his belt. He huffed when he raised his eyes to see you entranced by the pale blue spotted butterfly resting upon your hand. “Look!”

Again, you let out a sweet laughter, the cadence of which tickled the knight’s spine like a feather being dragged languidly over each vertebra. With the tiny, delicate creature flapping its wings upon your hand, he admired your gentleness, how sweet your eyes turned when gazing upon the beautiful butterfly. It was strange—he’d been out here with you for almost two hours, and yet no walkers or bandits had crossed your path. It was almost as if your purity somehow deterred those things, those horrible things that plagued this land. Indeed, he’d never seen the world like this before, so much happier and sweeter than it had once been. Perhaps you didn’t need this world, but this world needed you. No, of course not. That was silly, he told himself, shaking his head to rid himself of his own thoughts. No one woman could change the world just by existing in it.

“Oh,” you sighed in a bittersweet tone. The butterfly flew away, your eyes following it for as long as it could before it disappeared beyond the hill.

Don’t be sad, princess, he found himself thinking, his own heart seeming to sink a little when your eyes turned just a little soft with sorrow. Please don’t be sad.

“Well,” you sighed again, your voice getting louder as you approached him, your hands lifting your gown just enough to allow you to step high over the tall flowers. As if by instinct, his eyes trailed to your bare ankles, then your calves, your knees, and just a sliver of your soft thighs…

Stop looking, that rational voice in his head commanded. But the improper, unabashed voice replied, But, oh, milady… What fine legs you have.

“This meadow is beautiful, but there must be more to see.” You took your cloak from him to swing it around your shoulders and clasp it around your neck, then circled around the horse to retrieve your shoes from its saddle. “Where are we going next?”

Daryl thought for a moment, but his immediate attention was directed towards the gracefulness of your movements, the way your fingers curled through Phantom’s forelock and tickled underneath his chin, and the way you nuzzled your nose against his… How gentle the warhorse was, as if you had some soothing effect upon him.

If Daryl was a superstitious man, he’d say you worked some kind of womanly magic upon your surroundings, wooing him and his horse and even the Dead. If he was a cruel man, he’d accuse you of being a witch, demanding to see if you bore the Devil’s mark or if you sank in water. Of course, he didn’t believe in sorcery or witches or Satan, but he did believe you had worked some kind of spell on him, one of a more corporeal nature.

“Daryl?”

He cleared his throat as his senses came back to him. “Yes, I, um… I know of a lake nearby. Would that, um, suit you, your highness?” He tried to speak in his best chivalric tone, though he knew not why. He never cared much for that before, until right this moment, and it seemed almost against his will. Maybe witches were real, afterall. Still, he wasn’t about to rid himself of this warm, ticklish feeling in the pit of his stomach, even if it was the work of the Devil.

A sweet, beautiful, kind agent of the Devil.

“A lake would be lovely,” you replied.

At length, you walked alongside Daryl, who let you guide Phantom this time. You’d insisted upon walking to the lake, giving the poor horse a break from carrying the weight of the two of you. It was no disappointment to the knight, who found that he quite liked spending more time with you, prolonging his time outside the walls to hold your cloak as you frolicked or to kneel and let you hold onto his strong shoulder as you brushed the dirt off your feet. It almost sickened him how much he relished in being of service to you.

And it was such a beautiful day, the perfect day for you to see the outside world. In your fascination, you were rendered quiet, turning in every direction to catch with your eyes every bird or deer or squirrel or insect that crossed your path. The woods were serene, too, much brighter and free of any pestilence that your father had so ominously warned you of.

Indeed, you wondered where the Dead were. It seemed too good to be true, considering the horrible memories you had of that night your mother died, of seeing her getting pulled into a swarm of walkers as she reached her hand out to you, calling for you. You still remembered how you struggled to reach for her, your fingers just grazing her trembling hand before you were yanked away by a guard.

Of course, you knew there was no way you could’ve saved her. Her neck and arms were already being feasted upon, spurts of blood shooting out and sprinkling in crimson globs upon your tear-stained cheeks, while her screams were increasingly drowned by the sound of her flesh tearing from her bones. When her body was taken in completely by the hoard, you heard one last scream—No, please, no!

As this memory inflicted itself upon you, the feeling akin to a knife in the chest, you stopped in your tracks, staring blankly at the vision before you that seemed to have crawled out of your head. Between the trees ahead of you, five or six of the dead lumbered clumsily over sticks and stones towards you.

When the knight pushed you behind him, drawing his sword, you studied the appearances of the dead men with shock. They wore clothes just like any commoner, one even wearing a blacksmith’s apron, another wearing a simple white linen coif upon her head, not unlike the ones you owned, except yours weren’t caked in dried blood, but the similarity was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Dar-Daryl…” Your voice faltered as you backed away, your hands clinging tight to the reins on the horse. “What do we do?”

It hadn’t occurred to him that you didn’t know the first thing about walkers, how to kill them, how to avoid them. He should’ve told you. He planned on telling you, but he got… distracted. So distracted he’d forgotten of the Dead’s existence altogether.

“Just stay behind me,” he said. “If one comes at you, you run.”

Run? Run where? I do not know these woods…

“All right.”

He held his sword with both hands, and you wondered how on Earth he could hold such a large thing, no doubt made of fine, heavy steel. He must’ve had a great deal of strength, not to mention the heavy armor he would carry in battle. Indeed, he was broad and seemed hearty enough to withstand almost anything.

A sparkle of sunlight reflected off the silver blade as it sliced through a walker’s neck, severing the head in one fluid motion that caused you to gasp in horror at the sight.

But Daryl moved so fluidly, with such ease and intensity. Every stroke was purposeful, and every kick and turn and step was made with confidence. As you watched in combined terror and amazement, you realized that he really was a great knight. His chivalry left much to be desired, but you could tell why he achieved his status as knight. Soon, the walkers were all headless, and he got to work plunging the blade of his sword directly into the creature’s severed heads, which appeared to still be alive.

You leaned forward in awe, curious about how the heads could still be alive when severed from the body.

But your thoughts ceased when a cold hand wrapped around your ankle, pulling you with great strength down to the forest floor. You came down with a yelp, both from the startling action and the feeling of your ankle twisting in an unnatural manner, creating an awful pain that traveled all the way up to the top of your head to send you nearly passing out.

But the lone, legless walker kept you awake, yanking at your leg with its teeth gnashing horribly, creating a terrible clicking sound with each attempt to take a bite of you.

You pulled away, kicking at the thing’s forehead to get it away from you, but it was relentless, and soon set its sights on your neck as its disgusting, rotting body began to climb up your torso, its mouth dripping foul blood over your surcote as you gasped and panted and screamed in fear.

In the distance, you heard the loud whinnying of Phantom, then the sound of his hooves against the dirt, getting further and further away.

All this happened in a matter of milliseconds, with the knight moving quickly to tear the dead man away from you, throwing its growling body several feet away from you. With a grunt, he swung his greatsword overhead, bringing it down to slice the creature’s head vertically with a horrid squelch.

The thing fell back in its final state of death, allowing Daryl to sheath his bloodied sword and hurry over to you, his gloved hands feeling all over your arms and legs and torso. Your eyes widened at the touches, how brazenly he handled you with his strong, filthy hands.

“You bit?” he asked.

Oh.

He kept feeling you, lifting your dress to examine your calves with a stoicism and seriousness you wouldn’t have expected from a man with his hands all over you. But then, this was a serious situation. Get your mind out of the gutter, you chided yourself.

“N-no, I’m fine…” Dizzied from the sudden fall, you raised your hand to your forehead, then stroked it through your now wild hair. As you became aware of your body once again, you realized the dull ache surrounding your right ankle. “Oh, my… my ankle. It hurts.”

He lifted your gown again to examine your ankle, the skin around it inflamed and swollen, and it was angled rather sharply inwards. A grimace contorted the knight’s face. “Sprained,” he said. He knew that well, having seen the very minor injury many times in battle. Of course, if the worst injury one received was a sprained ankle, that was a blessing.

As his hands cradled you underneath the underarms to lift you, he peered behind his shoulder with a deep huff. “Damn horse,” he cursed.

Struggling to help lift yourself with your good leg, you realized, too, that the horse had run off in the midst of the chaos. “Oh, no! How are we going to—Oh!”

You felt caught in a whirlwind as the knight somehow slung you over his shoulder, his arm wrapped around the backs of your legs to hold you in place as he began to walk, not wasting any time to catch up to the horse.

“What are you doing?!” you cried out in confusion. Your sight was momentarily shrouded in darkness as your face was buried in the wool of his cloak, but you lifted your head to see the ground moving beneath dizzyingly as you bounced against his back. “Are you… carrying me?”

“Gotta catch up to Phantom… Ain’t gettin’ anywhere very fast with you limpin’.” He punctuated his sentence with a strained grunt, then stopped briefly to bounce you until you were more securely draped over his broad shoulder.

“How do you know where he went?”

“There’s a cottage not far from here. He knows to go there.” That, and he could track the horse’s trail quite easily.

You remained quiet for a while, until he hitched you up again. “You know,” you remarked, “this is not how you carry a princess. A rather large sack of potatoes, yes, but not a princess.”

He tried to hinder his laughter. It was difficult.

“How did you find this place?” you asked, sat upon a dusty old floor pillow beside the warm, burning hearth.

The cottage was small, just one room. You’d never seen such a modest home, with straw blanketing the dirt floor and a small hole in the roof to allow the smoke from the hearth to escape, with only one small window to let in a tiny stream of afternoon light.

You watched Daryl crush some mix of pungent herbs, water, and oil with a mortar and pestle, his hair hanging like chocolate colored silken drapes over his concentrated face.

He looked up for a moment, his hooded eyes peeking out between those brunette strands of hair. He chewed his lip, eying your swollen ankle. The guilt hadn’t stopped washing over him since it happened. How could he be so negligent to let you get hurt?

“I, uh… Found it a long time ago, when the plague broke out.” With the herbs crushed into an oily paste, he carried the stone mortar over to you, kneeling down to lift your ankle onto his thigh. You watched curiously as his fingers scooped up a glob of the slightly purple-toned concoction, then spread the paste over your swollen ankle. “Was fighting the Dead,” he continued as he rubbed more of the coarse cream over your skin. “A swarm cornered me here. Wasn’t much safer, though… An old man and his wife, but the old man had turned, was just about to take a bite of the woman, but I put him down.”

He noticed your shiver, then crossed the room to quickly procure a thick woolen blanket from the small straw bed.

“Here.” He draped the warm fabric over your shoulders. “Sorry it’s not much.”

“It’s quite all right… What happened to the old lady?”

He shook his head as he returned to his treatment of your wound. “She was already bit. I was too late… Cared for ‘er as long as I could, but no one knew back then that even just one bite means you’re dead. The fever killed ‘er… And then, I didn’t know she’d turn, too. Found out real quick that’s how it spreads, and that you gotta kill the brain.” He gestured accordingly to his own head. “And now this place is mine, I guess.”

“I thought you lived on your lord’s fief?” you asked. “You live here?”

He used his teeth to rip a piece of cotton gauze from its roll, then lifted your ankle from its place on his leg to wrap it and conceal the herbal remedy. “I travel between,” he said simply. “Stayin’ in one place never suited me.”

To an extent, you understood that. Though you always valued your home, you’d been stuck in one place for so long that it became less of a home and more of a hostage situation. “You must value your freedom,” you remarked. “Tell me, what did you put on my ankle?”

He scoffed through an ever-so-slight, crooked smirk. “You ask many questions, princess.”

A rosy pink blush bloomed upon your cheeks, accompanied by a gentle heat that wasn’t just radiating from the nearby flame of the hearth. “Well,” you said, straightening your back as his words reminded you of your status, “I think I’m entitled to know what kind of remedy you’ve applied to my wound, knight.”

He gently replaced your skirt over your ankles as he spoke, listing the ingredients. “Arnica, witch hazel, lavender… All good for pain and swelling.”

“Oh? You’re skilled in herbalism?”

“Another question…”

You tilted your head in faux offense at the observation. “I’m entitled to ask whatever questions I wish, knight.”

With a huff, he leaned back to scoot himself onto his own pillow, then kicked off his heavy leather boots. “I wouldn’t say ‘skilled’,” he replied at length. “Just… somethin’ I had to learn.”

Curiosity made you raise an eyebrow at that, and your prying was certainly nowhere near its end. “Why?”

Any other person had asked him this many questions about himself, he might’ve lost his nerve and said some rather vulgar things, but you were a lady. More than that, you were a princess. More than that, you were… something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He knew you were beautiful, of course. He had eyes. There was more that drew him to you, that made him care what you thought of him and made him care about you.

Despite his usual tendency to become frustrated at this kind of questioning, he couldn’t bring himself to feel agitated at all. In fact, he felt at ease, like he wanted to tell you about himself. Somehow, that look in your eyes told him you weren’t just asking because it seemed the proper thing to do—you were asking him these things because you cared to know about him. No one had cared in that way before. Maybe the duke came close, but he didn’t have this effect on the knight. It was unique to you, this wave of earnestness and openness. For such a closed-off man, he found it very hard to keep his guard up much longer.

Still, he wondered, if he let his guard down too far, could he stop himself from scaring you away? You were a sensitive thing, he’d realized. You were innocent, too. The things he’d seen and done would surely frighten you, chase you away from him when he’d only just begun to grow fond of you in some strange way. The more you knew about him, the more you’d find him repulsive, he thought. And yet, it was still so tempting.

“Left home when I was sixteen,” he said. “Had to learn how to take care of myself. Well, learned most of that when I was...” He had to stop himself, his lips hanging open slightly in midair. If he kept going, he might’ve revealed too much, how “pathetic” his life had been. Surely you wouldn’t understand. You’d think he was trying to earn your pity, but all he wanted, as he looked into your eyes and melted into them like they were two pools of warm liquid honey, was to know that you cared about the words that struggled to will themselves into existence. Those soft, warm eyes would prove successful in swallowing him whole, into an abyss of unabashed honesty. Why was he bearing his soul? What good would it do? He didn’t know. In fact, he was sure it would only cause you to look down upon him, but he was wise enough to know that no one before had ever really asked about these things. No one before had ever cared like this. That was why he was hesitant—it was simply uncharted territory. But, then again, everything about you was uncharted territory, and if you asked, it must’ve meant you cared.

“When I was a child, my mother died,” he said. “My father couldn’t handle it… Turned to the bottle, became a lousy sot.” He swallowed hard as a bit of bile came to rise in his throat. He wasn’t sure what came over him—except, well, he’d never spoken these words out loud before. Certainly not in front of a princess. You didn’t stop him, though. In fact, you held a soft gaze, encouraging him with your pleading eyes for him to continue, not with pity, but with sympathy. How strange, you opened him up with just your kind, understanding face. “He, uh, would hurt me… Enough to break skin.” He gestured loosely towards the leftover salve. “This stuff would help with the bruises. Needed other things for the cuts, but I know all of it. Helps in war, too.”

Understanding his hesitancy to speak more about his childhood, you inquired about that—war. Perhaps it wasn’t a much more cheerful subject, but there was something you’d been wondering about since you first met the mysterious knight.

“War… Is that how you got your scar?”

It took him a moment to register your question, as he had so many scars now, it was hard to keep track of them all, but you gestured your finger to point towards his face, and he cursed himself for not thinking of the long red stripe running down over his left eye, At times, you yourself had forgotten it was there, its pigment blending in with the tone of his tanned skin in certain lights, but it had intrigued you since you first saw him.

“It’s a battle scar,” he answered. “Yeah…”

“I read that battle scars are honorable to knights.”

“They are,” he responded quickly, as if defending himself, despite a lack of anything to really defend. But his tone soon shifted as he processed your words. “You… read about knights?”

Swallowing hard, you averted your gaze to try to find some respite from the embarrassment of admitting that you found his kind to be fascinating. To say you read about knights would be an understatement. Your father housed an impressive collection of literature in his cabinet, many of which you’d secretly take to the solar and read by candlelight in the wee hours of the morning when a particularly restless sleep became too much to bear. Among those books were the most popular chivalric romances—The Knight’s Tale, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Le Morte d’Arthur, Erec and Enide, Sir Eglamour of Artois… Daryl wasn’t like any of those knights, though. He was… better, you decided. He was real.

“I do,” you spoke shakily. “I—I… know a bit.” You never stuttered. Why were you stuttering? Eugene had all but trained you out of the habit in your public speaking lessons. He hadn’t prepared you for the intensity of Sir Daryl’s gaze, how it reduced your poise to a shiver. And yet still, you were the most poised woman he ever met.

In fact, he didn’t notice your stuttering at all. It was hard to let anything distract him from every word you said, every open and close of your plush lips that were made glossy and smooth from suet and marjoram, with just a touch of red wine to paint a delicious tint across the plump skin. The musky amber scent of civet oil mingled with the floral marjoram to tickle his nose so heavenly, even from this distance. Each movement of your lips only carried the scent further, like it was floating on angel’s wings to him, and only him. For a brief, anxious moment, he pondered upon the taste, and the texture… How his lips would feel against yours.

Lust is a sin, he told himself, despite having not paid a visit to a chapel since his knighthood. Still, a knight should respect the laws of God. Like all the knights in the stories you read, he was beginning to face temptation.

With a quiet huff, he yanked himself from his intrusive thoughts to face you with a slight smirk. “I guess you’re fond of Sir Lancelot?” he asked.

Not at all, you thought. I am more fond of Sir Daryl.

It was twilight when you arrived back at the castle, slipping through the Tombs and coming out into the gloomy dungeons in the dark underbelly of the keep. To distract the guards that stood near your chambers, Daryl alerted them to a “walker that must’ve slipped through the walls,” but used the opportunity to sneak you into your room.

The knight ushered you in the room with a frantically waving hand. With a slight limp from your injury, you stumbled in laughing. Giddy, that was the only way to describe it. You were giddy from adrenaline, and felt a surge of fiery energy flow through you like a match being struck. Indeed, the whole day had been exhilarating, though terrifying at points. Ultimately, it was everything you’d dreamed it would be, and more.

And you couldn’t help but admit that it felt wonderful to break the rules, to do something reckless for once. You were a little afraid it would become an addictive habit, but it was worth it. To see the things you saw, to behold new landscapes and to feel unburdened by the oppressive walls of that old gray castle… Oh, it was a wonderful feeling.

You couldn’t contain your excitement much longer—when the heavy wooden doors closed with a quiet clack of the latch, you opened your arms to rush towards the knight with an exuberant, but hushed, “We did it!”

His eyes widened as he felt your warm, soft arms around his torso, his chest pressed against yours so close that he could feel your swift heartbeat pounding against your ribcage. Whatever overcame you, it must’ve been born of your excitement, and he couldn’t hide the fact that he was excited, too. For what, he did not know. The day was over, his task was complete. He’d taken you outside the kingdom, allowed you to do as you please as he kept a watchful eye, keeping you safe from harm… Well, there were some slip-ups, but he was successful in his mission.

Perhaps he was excited because he, too, felt the adrenaline rush, the excursion having been the most treacherous crime he’d ever committed, and he’d committed a few. Petty theft and a few drunken brawls, to be specific, but you’d never know that. Not as long as he could help it.

Despite his hands and arms floating awkwardly around the curves of your waist, he didn’t dare touch you. There was an innate desire to, of course, but it wouldn’t be right. None of this was right, in truth, but there was no going back now, and he didn’t want to go back. He didn’t regret a thing, and that scared him a little bit. How on Earth could that scare him? Nothing scared him. His own feelings baffled him, especially when that musky amber scent came back with a succulent vengeance to assault his senses with the most indulgent perfume he’d ever had the pleasure of falling victim to. For a moment, he closed his eyes, taking in a quiet, deep inhale. That was the closest he could let himself get to doing anything he might’ve been wanting to do.

When you realized he wasn’t holding you back, you pulled away from the stoic man. Clarity returned to replace the intoxication of the adrenaline, and you cleared your throat to change the atmosphere back to that of knight and princess, not acquaintances of equal standing.

“Thank you, Sir Daryl,” you said. He winced for a moment at the title, having gotten a little accustomed to the simple name upon your lilted voice. Now, it was formal again, direct yet gentle. It still sounded beautiful, the way you spoke, but it was different. Only now, he noticed that it softened even more, as if your words were resting on downy pillows that filled with increasingly plush goose feathers each time you spoke to him. “Today was the best day of my life.”

Quite frankly, he found that very hard to believe. So hard to believe, in fact, that he let out a puff of air between lips that formed a wry smile. “What’re you talkin’ about, woman?”

“Woman?”

“That’s what you are, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes… What I mean to say is, what you’ve done for me today was what I’ve wanted for so long, and now I feel as though a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Thank you.”

A pregnant silence hung in the air between you before you turned to cross the room over to your vanity, where your jewelry casket sat. You rummaged through to once again procure his payment.

“No, your highness,” spoke the knight, his steps getting heavy as he approached you from behind. “I told you, I can’t accept that.”

You turned to face him with a smile, and a glimmering ruby brooch encrusted in silver filigree, characterized by delicate, swirling arabesques. “Nonsense,” you replied. “Please, knight. It would please me so for you to take this… And, there’s always more… For next time.”

Raising his eyes from the gem in your hand, he searched your gaze for earnestness. Indeed, you looked not unlike you had that night you begged him. You had that desperation in your eyes, that lust for freedom and exploration. The difference was, there was now a smile upon your face. That was even more tempting for him. A smile like that was dangerous, as he was sure you could just about convince him of anything.

“Next time?”

“Yes, next time my father is gone. Of course, if you’re agreeable to it.”

Agreeable to it? Your beauty was intoxicating, and exposure to it was like radiation—surely no good for him in the long run. That all being said, there was something tempting about the danger of it all, the wrongness. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, not since before he was bound by the laws of chivalry. It was wrong of him to do this with you, but it had an effect like theriac; it was both an antidote and an addiction.

With a hefty huff, he took the jewel from your hand, stuffing it into the simple embroidered chaneries hanging from his belt.

That night, he agreed to another excursion, whenever that might be. Now, he seemed to be officially at your every beck and call, waiting for the signal to come and rescue you from your entrapment. In a way, he himself had become trapped, a chaperon condemned to serve you until your whims ebbed and flowed away from him and his outside world that he knew so well. It wasn’t this in itself that frightened him, though—it was the fact that when he thought of the next time he’d have to be your escort, subject to your will, he smiled. This realization of his devotion to you made the subconscious depths of his mind aware of one important thing: you weren’t just any princess, you were his princess.

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