Like Oiled Silk

When he first saw her, he knew there was no one else in the world for him. He was sixteen, she was nearing thirty. Her stare penetrated into his very soul as he took his vows. Her life before his, he swore. Eternal loyalty.

But she was a busy woman, and he rarely saw her again, contenting himself with glimpses of her fine gowns arriving from the tailors, imagining how she'd look in them. The others, they understood. Each had his soul ensnared by her cold and remote beauty, his heart broken into countless, unrecognizable pieces.

He was called to defend her, and he did gladly, cutting down those who dared oppose her, those who would harm her. Returned whole and unhurt, he was rewarded with another glimpse of her unchanging beauty. Only to be sent away again, to another field, another slaughter.

And his life moved on, an endless shuffle from triumphant marches to hasty retreats and back again. It was incomprehensible to him how someone could wish to harm her, but he knew that they did.

It was inevitable that he would be wounded. He knew this. Everyone knew this. You risked live and limb in her service, it was part of the oath he'd sworn. His injury was devastating, however, even by their standards. An entire wing had been removed, rendering him useless. Useless for her service, for fighting, for living. Just useless.

Sent back in shame with the other invalids, he was given an even bigger honor. Guarding her door at night, he heard the sounds of her many lovers. Weak, pale creatures, yet whole and unblemished. Her chosen ones, who never so much as glanced in his direction.

He became as a shadow on the wall, as unfeeling as the stones he leaned against. A cold lump of fused glass was his heart, breaking with every glimpse of her only to repair harder than before.

And when it was his chance to train the new recruits, the poor slobs who fell under her daughter's spell, he did it gladly, working them to the bone. Wiping the smiles and glazed eyes off their faces, he turned them into proper knights.

She smiled at him, once, when he was reprimanding a lazy indolent recruit. Her smile was like the sun, bright and burning and it hurt.

He was shot down by a new and incompetent marksman not long after.