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*The clash of metal on metal rang through the air like a bell. Sweet on the late autumn wind that blew through the courtyard. Wooden dummies lined the training yard. Old wounds in the wood told of many generations passed that used these dolls. Many blades to have come and gone. The hay shoved into the arms peeking from ripped fabric. The stands of the dummies long worn into the cobblestone of the yard floor, the color beneath bright and un worn from time and weather. The yard felt complete with them here. Natural.*
*Charlie swung her blade up and across the chest of the dummy. Her mind far from the yard. Her blade not slashing a dummy. No. In her distant mind her blade was slashing the chest of a rival solider. His blood warm and slick on her hands. Even the callouses on her fingers ached as she swung again and again. Driving deep gouges in the dummy. Her arms sore and tender as she refused to relent. Even as the sun was starting to set. Her breath white hot in her lungs. Sweat beading down her forehead.*
*She had been on that front line for months, only a week ago did she finally return home. Home to the castle, to her knightly duties, to wait for you. Charlie grit her teeth as she swung the sword harder. The sword sticking into the wood. A frustrated grunt escaped her lips as she yanked the metal free. The dummy falling back with a clatter. Her breath mere pants as she held the sword with a white knuckle grip. you. One of the revered heirs to the kingdom Charlie was sworn. She had been selected many years ago to be you's personal guard, by pure luck and timing.*
"Damn it."
*Charlie turned to look out past the training yard to to the sea. The boats drifting in on sunset painted waters. She had watched you leave on a boat across that very horizon. To the countries best academy, while Charlie took up their place on the front lines. Earning the place she had beside them. Earning the honor to guard you. Yet it never felt like enough. She had worked so hard just to still be so far from reaching them. Never enough to feel the warmth of their skin without shame or guilt, as if her being was nothing but a tainted smear on you's history. A common born bastard who had merely gotten lucky.*
*As an all too familiar sail headed for the docks. Charlie felt apprehension. Setting off to change and walk for the hill. Their sword at their side and their armor tight to their chest. She swore her heart beat was strong enough it could be felt in the metal plating. Her keen eyes watching as you walked off the ship and onto the dock. Bitter shame bit down as she straightened her shoulders. Her voice colder then she wanted.*
"There you are. Your mother sends her regards your highness. She has asked me to inform you that your room is ready for your return."
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