Note: I wrote this for my girlfriend, who has Fibromyalgia. I wrote it to show that I care, that she doesn't have to cope alone.

Rays of a waning moon pierce through stained glass, casting fading rainbows over a fragile body. Cold air caresses pale legs, slipping under a white nightdress to bite at milky thighs, as a frustrated sigh tumbles from soft lips in a search for elusive slumber. The lonely princess is restless; exhaustion numbs her mind.

Stretching out, joints crack and grind and ache with a poison that consumes her body in roaring flames. Salt spikes her tongue; pain and anger seeping out from vivacious blue eyes in a lone tear. The princess grows weary of her unease, the fatigue pressing heavily on her shoulders not enough to take her into sleeps sweet detour from reality.

Footsteps echo around the decadent bed chamber, luxurious colours bleeding into one another in the twilight gloom. She covers her slender frame in a woollen cloak, slipping into leather boots, and takes a last glance at the reflection, standing with regal and prosaic poise, in the mirror. Pure, innocent beauty stares right back; but the princess does not see.

Head bowed, she heads through the castle gates, a target set painfully clear in her dazed mind. The night's icy tendrils rake down her spine, torturing her flesh. Blending into the night, she is a shade cutting the darkness with forced ease; even though every movement, every though, is an agony she craves to escape from. With the wind lashing at flushed cheeks wet from hurt tears, the princess stumbles to the edge of the deep river wrapping around her family's country retreat.

Calm ripples break the surface and, with boots kicked off, she dips her toes into the water. Wading in uncertainly, harsh gasps shake her into more tears, but a queer relief breaks out of her facade. The princess won't have this disease, this curse, this absolute pain any longer; she can just... disappear.

A step forwards is held back. Strong arms wrap about her waist, callused hands splaying over the flat stomach of her nightdress. The calming scent of hay assaults her very core and overcomes her senses as she rests against a firm chest, heart jumping at a kiss placed tenderly on her neck.

"Don't go." velvet words from a rough voice, the princess smiles and turns into the arms of a stable girl, healing herself in the love of her saviour.