The previous pages of the notebook have a green string tied around them to keep them separated. On the back of the last page, written in a shaky hand, are the words "My Old Life".
(( An update to the biography portion has been made as well. ))
Sensibility: The Notebook Of Kalina Sensbane
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*VanillaRose
- Posts: 17
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
A new section of the notebook is started.
It has been three months since I last wrote within the pages of this book, and three months feels like a lifetime. How can I possibly recount everything that has changed in my life since this feathered quill last graced itself upon a blank canvas?
My handsome knight, Legault Degare, shattered my innocent heart into pieces. In my wild rebellion, I dallied with a man I hardly knew - Ezekiel Myst - and learned the rougher aspects of men. I pretended to marry the best-known womanizer in Sigil, Dom, and then our ruse became real when we realized we loved each other. My father, Lord Jach Sensbane, was brutally murdered. I was kidnapped, tortured, and imprisoned by Raifael Degare and his unknown, wicked associates.I helped rescue Ixia Larkspur from the tainted fire that threatened to consume her, and then I helped rescue Sondaal Ayakra from the City of Brass after she sacrificed herself as a slave so the rest of us could help Ixia. I helped Gwynnithe after she lost her memories. I've helped Animus and Rozalin with her familial situation. I've held auditions for a play. I've smiled and laughed, and I've cried and raged.
My life is busy and fulfilling, and I know that it will only get busier. It is time for this storyteller and student of history to chronicle the events that comprise her life. If nothing else, I can read my written words when I am old and gray, and I can remember all the adventures I experienced when I was a young woman.
It has been three months since I last wrote within the pages of this book, and three months feels like a lifetime. How can I possibly recount everything that has changed in my life since this feathered quill last graced itself upon a blank canvas?
My handsome knight, Legault Degare, shattered my innocent heart into pieces. In my wild rebellion, I dallied with a man I hardly knew - Ezekiel Myst - and learned the rougher aspects of men. I pretended to marry the best-known womanizer in Sigil, Dom, and then our ruse became real when we realized we loved each other. My father, Lord Jach Sensbane, was brutally murdered. I was kidnapped, tortured, and imprisoned by Raifael Degare and his unknown, wicked associates.I helped rescue Ixia Larkspur from the tainted fire that threatened to consume her, and then I helped rescue Sondaal Ayakra from the City of Brass after she sacrificed herself as a slave so the rest of us could help Ixia. I helped Gwynnithe after she lost her memories. I've helped Animus and Rozalin with her familial situation. I've held auditions for a play. I've smiled and laughed, and I've cried and raged.
My life is busy and fulfilling, and I know that it will only get busier. It is time for this storyteller and student of history to chronicle the events that comprise her life. If nothing else, I can read my written words when I am old and gray, and I can remember all the adventures I experienced when I was a young woman.
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*VanillaRose
- Posts: 17
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
"Trust is a rare commodity - and you no longer have mine".
The problem with trusting others - careless trust, as my love calls it - is that betrayal feels like a knife to the heart. Two of my closest "friends", Animus and Ixia, both decided that my friendship was less important than other things.
Animus stated that he could not help me when it comes time for us all to return to the City of Brass so that the drums and visions that plague my thoughts can end. His reason was simple: he didn't want to leave Rozalin's side. While I can respect his love for her and the situation in which she finds herself, his responsibilities and obligations did not cease when she came into his life. She is not helpless, and she is not without others to keep her safe in his absence. Ultimately, she and her "guardian", Azrinoth Deschain, will be traveling to the City of Brass as well so that Animus can help me. While I do not mind their aid, and in truth I am appreciative of it, I do not like the way it was forced upon me. I had to accept an ultimatum: either they are a part of the trip, or Animus is not. I am still half-tempted to decline his aid so that he can help the ones for whom he truly cares, because I know now that I am not one of them.
Ixia revealed a well-guarded secret concerning my father to two complete strangers, and that secret could taint the Sensbane name - my name - if it became public knowledge. Father is not here to refute the allegations, but all it takes is a carefully chosen series of words to plant the seeds of doubt amongst the populace who still adores him and cherishes his memory. The so-called "investigators" are too prying with their questions, and Ixia told them far too much information. I had thought that she and I could behave as rational, adult women who both care for the same man, but her jealousy turned to spite. She is not a stupid woman; I refuse to believe that she didn't have some sort of motive for her revelations.
My anger was quelled, though, when Dom bade me to stop. He cares for her - she's still his friend - but I know she heard his whispered words to me. He later apologized and said that he should not have stopped me, but perhaps it was for the best. There were so many things I could have said - should have said - but I am glad, now, that I merely thought them instead. I said enough to make my point, and she knows that I have reached the limits of my patience with her.
After everyone had finally departed and Dom and I had our room to ourselves, we spent much-needed time together. I could write pages upon pages of praise for him, but we complete each other so well that describing our love seems unnecessary. Never would I have thought that he would be the one who made me feel so vibrant and alive, but there is undeniable passion and love between us. He surprises and amazes me with the depths of his love for me, and I can see in his eyes - those beautiful yellow eyes! - that I surprise and amaze him, too.
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*VanillaRose
- Posts: 17
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
What is a family? Is a family limited to blood relations? Or can a family be formed through the blood, sweat, and tears that are shared together?
My family in Baldur's Gate is a distant memory. I rarely saw them when I lived there, and I don't imagine they've noticed my absence these past few months. But here, in the City of Doors, I am a part of another family that is far stronger and loving than any blood relations of mine.
Jach Sensbane gave me his surname, and I became his daughter. With his death, I was left alone - until Gwynnithe expressed an interest in becoming a Sensbane as well. I submitted the necessary paperwork, and she is now my sister in spirit and name - if not blood. I have gained a brother as well - Animus, who is now a Sensbane. My love, Dom, may decide to take the name and become the new Lord Sensbane in my father's place, or he may decide to remain nameless. Rozalin, Animus' love, may one day become a Sensbane as well. I have teased Azrinoth, Gwynnithe's gentleman friend, that he has to take her name should they ever marry.
All of us have our stories of a family unknown or lies that were presented as truth. Is it any wonder that we have all been drawn to each other? I appear to be the only exception to the norm thus far, but even I have my secrets - secrets I will one day reveal to my family.
My only regret is that Father is no longer here to see his happy children. I think about him every single day, and I wish I could have one more moment with him so that I could tell him how much I appreciated him. From the moment I stepped from the rubble of the burning Hammer when I first arrived in Sigil, he was there to protect me and watch me grow from a frightened girl into a confident young woman. I like to think that he is watching over us all now and guiding us as we continue our lives, and I hope he knows how much we all miss him.
Family is so much more than the blood that flows within a person, and Father's heart was always willing to love others - and so will mine.
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*VanillaRose
- Posts: 17
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
I am concerned as to what the future holds for me, because even though the drums and music in my head has stopped, I have a feeling that things are nowhere near ended.
The trip to the City of Brass was frustrating. The tag-along elf, Neristranna, could have easily ruined our efforts had the Emir not been forgiving of the flame attack her staff - no, Dom's staff - launched towards him. I do not like the elf; Dom's fascination with her supposed illness notwithstanding, she's rude and disrespectful. My love did not seem pleased when I told him that I do not want her near me again, but I refuse to tolerate her attitude especially when she could not mind her sharp tongue and childish glares during an outing that was meant for my benefit.
I wish I possessed the magical abilities that Dom possesses. I thought my abilities as a musician would suffice when my companions - my love, Animus, Gwynnithe, Rozalin, Azrinoth, Ixia, and the elf - and I attempted to solve the puzzle presented to us once we returned to the cavern where the explosion took place. However, it was not a well-played tune that opened the passage to the forgotten temple - it was a spell. Is there nothing that magic cannot solve? I don't think I've felt so useless in my life. Why bother to think and fret and form a solution from wits when a few well-placed arcane words will yield the results with minimal effort?
I would not dare say such things aloud, though. I respect my lover's skills as well as his good intentions. I suppose the performer in me wanted to be the star, though. Everyone traveled back to the City of Brass at my behest, and I wanted to prove that I was more than just a well-mannered server of tea. Am I forever destined to be little more than a servant? Sigil gave me the chance to leave that life and create a new one, which is why I don't want to fall back into those old habits.
Digressions aside, though, once we entered the ancient temple, we all saw things that mortal eyes have not seen in centuries - perhaps millenia! I recorded as much as I could into the Sensory Stone I possess, because the artwork was simply magnificent. I was loathe to tell the Emir of its existence, because there is no telling what the efreeti might destroy, but we gave our word. Still, the secrets of that place call to me, and my aforementioned concern is born of a certain artifact that is now in my possession.
As soon as I entered the room where Dom was opening the storage box that contained it, I felt odd. As the relic was revealed, I was overwhelmed with need for it. Never in my life have I wanted something so badly as I wanted that archaic volume, and I am not certain I would have taken "no" for an answer if my lover had not relinquished it to me. When I held the old work in my hands, all the pain with which I had been riddled ceased in an instant. The drums, the music, the visions - everything was gone, and I finally knew peace and quiet in my mind again. It feels strange not to have the persistent rhythm invading my thoughts, though. My life almost feels too quiet now.
Worrisome still is the fact that once the book came into my hands, the powerful entity Gwynnithe felt on the other side of the locked door simply vanished. Am I naïvé enough to think that this is mere coincidence? No. Even though I consider myself an optimist, I cannot help but have a bad feeling about what the future holds for me and the ones I hold dear.
Dom and I are still studying the contents of the artifact; the book is so vast that it will take us a long time to pour over every page, and we don't want to reveal anything to the rest of the family until we have solid answers for ourselves. However, I worry that the question swirling in my mind will not be answered by our examination of the work: what ancient power have we dared disturb?
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*VanillaRose
- Posts: 17
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
The past few days have been so very hectic, and it is only now that I can spare a few moments to reflect upon all that has happened.
I have been short-tempered and ill with most everyone. Dom and I have argued. I yelled at Animus. Gwynnithe and I had a disagreement. I was not prepared for the stress of leadership that was thrust upon me when Father died, and I feel as if I am crumbling beneath the pressure of something I never truly desired.
Worse yet is that I feel alone even when I am surrounded by the people that comprise my family - House Sensbane. Questions need answers. Problems need solved. Wrongs need righted, and I - I simply want to enjoy my life. I want to indulge my senses in everything that I can experience, but I find that I barely leave Ten on most days. People knock upon my door, and I politely receive any and all visitors. Sometimes I feel relieved when they depart, though, because then I can relax - except that I cannot relax! Even when Dom and I are finally alone together, there is a distance between us that I feel I cannot cross. I do not want to burden him, despite the words of encouragement he has spoken to me, because I think he is simply paying lip-service to the woman he calls his "Goddess". To whom can I turn to hear my confessions of doubt and despair when I do not wish to trouble those closest to me?
*
The murderous, treacherous wench known as Neli La Meor sought to file a frivolous, inane legal claim against me because I allowed Animus and Gwynnithe to use the surname "Sensbane". After my initial outrage and panic, I contacted several different advisers and retained counsel for the hearing that would result from my refusal of her claim. I was rather pleased with myself for what I view as a quick, sensible reaction. A defense plan was formed, and the family's newly-hired counselor was ready to file a response when we received word that the claim was dropped. I have to wonder if Nicholas Millin - with whom I had recently conversed - played a role in the abrupt reversal, but the end result is that House Sensbane remains intact and Neli La Meor is less of a threat. We still plan to pursue our criminal case against her, but such is a matter for a future day.
I would say that I wish Father would have taught me more about life as the daughter of a powerful nobleman, but he and I did not have much time together at all. He could not have foreseen that his legacy would continue through me and my decisions, but still I wish I had received some sort of "noble house leadership" education. Does such a thing even exist?
Will I become a good leader? I feel as if I'm merely pretending to be good at anything these days, and I think the successes I've achieved are simply the good graces of Tymora taking pity upon me. Can I achieve a balance between good leadership and benevolence? Or will I one day follow in my father's footsteps and create an alter ego in order to seek refuge from the burden of responsibilities and duties?
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*VanillaRose
- Posts: 17
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Several pages are devoted to what appear to be adventures shared between the author and her lover as they travel to different places throughout the Multiverse. The entries are short, but the wording suggests that the author is happy and content with her travels.
Dom and I made the mistake of returning to Sigil to collect a few things from our room, and we were reminded of the selfish nature of the City of Doors.
I felt free. No one bothered to speak to us; no one seemed to care if we were there or if we were not there. For a few days, the Sensbanes were the talk of the town - and now no one knows our name. I don't mind, really. I tried, and I failed, to be a leader in a place that would sooner spit upon its inhabitants than offer a helping hand.
No one listens to me, anyhow. Gwynnithe accused Dom and me of abandoning her and then ran off in her predictable huff when we said we were leaving again to explore different planes. I never saw Animus; I imagine he and Rozalin are cozy together somewhere. So many people flow through Sigil that it is hard to do anything except watch them flow. I'm tired of trying to build something that no one will appreciate and everyone will mock.
I've rescinded the plans for rebuilding the villa. Jach Sensbane is dead, and his so-called daughter was not good enough or smart enough to keep his memory alive.
I'm tired of pretending. The nay-sayers win.
And life will continue in Sigil as if naught was amiss.
Dom and I made the mistake of returning to Sigil to collect a few things from our room, and we were reminded of the selfish nature of the City of Doors.
I felt free. No one bothered to speak to us; no one seemed to care if we were there or if we were not there. For a few days, the Sensbanes were the talk of the town - and now no one knows our name. I don't mind, really. I tried, and I failed, to be a leader in a place that would sooner spit upon its inhabitants than offer a helping hand.
No one listens to me, anyhow. Gwynnithe accused Dom and me of abandoning her and then ran off in her predictable huff when we said we were leaving again to explore different planes. I never saw Animus; I imagine he and Rozalin are cozy together somewhere. So many people flow through Sigil that it is hard to do anything except watch them flow. I'm tired of trying to build something that no one will appreciate and everyone will mock.
I've rescinded the plans for rebuilding the villa. Jach Sensbane is dead, and his so-called daughter was not good enough or smart enough to keep his memory alive.
I'm tired of pretending. The nay-sayers win.
And life will continue in Sigil as if naught was amiss.
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*VanillaRose
- Posts: 17
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
The pages prior to this entry are filled with a whirlwind of entries. Simply skimming the pages reveals that Kalina and Dom have spent time in Icewind Dale, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter, and Waterdeep. The latter city is where they spent most of their time prior to their return to Sigil. It would appear that Kalina was involved with the local theater and performance group in Waterdeep, but she also wrote about how she missed her family in Sigil.
Regardless of how many times I leave the City of Doors for a holiday or an adventure, there's some sort of inexplicable thing that always calls me back to this place. Granted, this time that thing was Dom summoning me to the Beastlands in the midst of a well-deserved bath, but it was truly my fault for soaking so long. I think Animus was just as surprised to see me covered in nothing but suds as I was surprised to be in the Beastlands covered in nothing but suds.
After we returned to Room Ten and I had a chance to make myself decent, our attention turned to the reasons Dom had desired me to return to Sigil: Gwynnithe and Father. I'm not exactly sure why I was angry at the child spirit guide who was inhabiting my sister's body, but I was confused and impatient in regards to the entire situation. Gwynnithe - Milil bless her soul - made some sort of spiritual fey-pact with Neli (henceforth referred to as "that cold-hearted harlot") and was bound to its terms even though that cold-hearted harlot was no longer bound to the terms. Unless we finagled a way to break the pact or change it or something, Gwynnithe would forevermore be compelled to seek out that cold-hearted harlot and do valorous things for her. Ridiculous!
Someone somewhere - Animus, I think - had the idea that Father (since he's now a ghost?) could serve as Gwynnithe's new spirit guide since Maggie - the child - wanted to abandon her. Objections were presented to this switch, because we were under the impression that Father could not be resurrected if he was bound to Gwynnithe as a spiritual leader. There was a lot of yelling and chaos; I rather reveled in it. Being with Dom has freed me from the constraints of propriety to which I've always adhered, and I do believe my handsome lover admires me even more because I'm more of a free spirit than ever! Digressions aside, though, after all the ruckus, Father decided to "charm" some tavern-goers in an effort to appeal to Verenestra, Gwynnithe's patron deity, in an attempt to petition for the pact to be rendered undone. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but there were a lot of antics and laughter and general confusion - and then POOF! Gwynnithe was Gwynnithe again. (I do think I hurt her feelings, thinking that she was still Maggie, by saying that she wasn't my sister. I'll have to remember to remedy that error when the opportunity avails itself.)
With the dilemmas solved - or at least somewhat handled - Dom and I were free to return to Waterdeep. As we walked upstairs to Room Ten, though, I was overwhelmed with the sudden desire to stay in Sigil. We indulged in various sensations throughout our travels; perhaps it's time to get back to our family duties. Besides, he has to ask me to marry him before long so we can plan our wedding. The question isn't "if" he'll do it; the question is "when" he'll do it. Knowing Dom, he'll take his sweet time in plotting, planning, and scheming something I'll never forget. And my impatience aside, I'm content with the knowledge that our love grows stronger each and every day.
It's good to be home.
Regardless of how many times I leave the City of Doors for a holiday or an adventure, there's some sort of inexplicable thing that always calls me back to this place. Granted, this time that thing was Dom summoning me to the Beastlands in the midst of a well-deserved bath, but it was truly my fault for soaking so long. I think Animus was just as surprised to see me covered in nothing but suds as I was surprised to be in the Beastlands covered in nothing but suds.
After we returned to Room Ten and I had a chance to make myself decent, our attention turned to the reasons Dom had desired me to return to Sigil: Gwynnithe and Father. I'm not exactly sure why I was angry at the child spirit guide who was inhabiting my sister's body, but I was confused and impatient in regards to the entire situation. Gwynnithe - Milil bless her soul - made some sort of spiritual fey-pact with Neli (henceforth referred to as "that cold-hearted harlot") and was bound to its terms even though that cold-hearted harlot was no longer bound to the terms. Unless we finagled a way to break the pact or change it or something, Gwynnithe would forevermore be compelled to seek out that cold-hearted harlot and do valorous things for her. Ridiculous!
Someone somewhere - Animus, I think - had the idea that Father (since he's now a ghost?) could serve as Gwynnithe's new spirit guide since Maggie - the child - wanted to abandon her. Objections were presented to this switch, because we were under the impression that Father could not be resurrected if he was bound to Gwynnithe as a spiritual leader. There was a lot of yelling and chaos; I rather reveled in it. Being with Dom has freed me from the constraints of propriety to which I've always adhered, and I do believe my handsome lover admires me even more because I'm more of a free spirit than ever! Digressions aside, though, after all the ruckus, Father decided to "charm" some tavern-goers in an effort to appeal to Verenestra, Gwynnithe's patron deity, in an attempt to petition for the pact to be rendered undone. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but there were a lot of antics and laughter and general confusion - and then POOF! Gwynnithe was Gwynnithe again. (I do think I hurt her feelings, thinking that she was still Maggie, by saying that she wasn't my sister. I'll have to remember to remedy that error when the opportunity avails itself.)
With the dilemmas solved - or at least somewhat handled - Dom and I were free to return to Waterdeep. As we walked upstairs to Room Ten, though, I was overwhelmed with the sudden desire to stay in Sigil. We indulged in various sensations throughout our travels; perhaps it's time to get back to our family duties. Besides, he has to ask me to marry him before long so we can plan our wedding. The question isn't "if" he'll do it; the question is "when" he'll do it. Knowing Dom, he'll take his sweet time in plotting, planning, and scheming something I'll never forget. And my impatience aside, I'm content with the knowledge that our love grows stronger each and every day.
It's good to be home.
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*VanillaRose
- Posts: 17
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
The following is hand-written by the author upon a piece of aged parchment that has been inserted into the journal. Off in the margin is a scribbled notation: I felt the need to add this story to my collection!
It was a mistake, the princess thought as she absently brushed her golden locks and stared at her reflection in the looking glass, to dream about the knight.
He had mounted his destrier and galloped into battle, and in glorious, poetic battle was he slain. The golden armor was stained with his blood; the handsome face was still and pale. The princess, beholden to a higher standard of society, could only choke back an internal sob and watch as the knight's body faded from her sight. In her private chambers, though, the princess grieved for her beloved knight.
Time passed, as time tends to do, and the princess was content enough with her royal responsibilities and the entourage she kept. The court magician kept her entertained with his tricks; the stoic advisor ensured that she ruled her dominion as well as she could manage. Still, there was a part of her heart that missed the gallant knight, and despite her best efforts and the efforts of those closest to her, she wondered at times if she would ever feel like a princess again.
Then one day, as she strolled through the marketplace, her ears heard a familiar, booming voice. Her eyes sought him in the crowd of people, and her breath caught in her throat as she looked upon the handsome visage of the man she thought was dead. Speaking his name felt simultaneously foreign and familiar upon her lips, and she imagined her voice was breathless as she called out to him. He, too, was surprised to see her, and the throng of passersby seemed to fade into oblivion until only they were left alone together.
They spoke, awkward and shy as was their custom together, and they alternated between stretches of uncomfortable silence and bouts of laughter as they reminisced about old times. The princess felt her heart thud in an all-too-familiar manner; she felt as giddy and girlish as she felt during the first tender throes of love they experienced. It was easy to feel this way about the cavalier - and it was also wrong.
She had duties, she dully reminded herself during their conversation. Her subjects depended upon her. The court magician had pledged his loyalty to her, but she held doubts that he would wed her and become her true prince. She held doubts that he cared for her with the same depth and passion she gave to him, and she knew it was wrong for her to share her doubts with her once-beloved knight. Was she secretly encouraging him to fight for her? Or did she merely enjoy the attention? He desired her; they both knew it.
They walked to the meadow where they had been standing when their affections were first revealed, and they continued to discuss old memories. The princess tried to persuade the knight to live his life to its fullest, and she could not resist placing her slender hand upon his chest to emphasize that only he knew in his heart what would make him truly happy. His hand rested upon her shoulder, and the unrequited dream they shared in that moment made the princess feel faint. Sensing her distress, perhaps, the knight gathered her in his strong arms and simply held her as time, silently jeering with its mockery, passed and changed nothing for its effort. All too soon, he released her from the embrace, and the princess felt flushed and guilty for the pleasure she derived from it.
She quickly and quietly insisted that it was time for her to return to the palace where she knew the court magician would be waiting for her. Her footsteps were fast as she made her way from the meadow, but she paused as she neared the edge of the clearing. Would her knight follow her? Would he ask her to stay? She was dismayed at herself for inwardly wanting him to do both things, but all she could do was pause and hope that he took her hesitation as a sign. When no footsteps sounded behind her and no words escaped his lips, the princess returned to her castle without looking back.
The court magician was sound asleep when she arrived, and she sat at her vanity and stared into her reflection before reaching for her comb. She would not sleep this night.
But she would dream.
It was a mistake, the princess thought as she absently brushed her golden locks and stared at her reflection in the looking glass, to dream about the knight.
He had mounted his destrier and galloped into battle, and in glorious, poetic battle was he slain. The golden armor was stained with his blood; the handsome face was still and pale. The princess, beholden to a higher standard of society, could only choke back an internal sob and watch as the knight's body faded from her sight. In her private chambers, though, the princess grieved for her beloved knight.
Time passed, as time tends to do, and the princess was content enough with her royal responsibilities and the entourage she kept. The court magician kept her entertained with his tricks; the stoic advisor ensured that she ruled her dominion as well as she could manage. Still, there was a part of her heart that missed the gallant knight, and despite her best efforts and the efforts of those closest to her, she wondered at times if she would ever feel like a princess again.
Then one day, as she strolled through the marketplace, her ears heard a familiar, booming voice. Her eyes sought him in the crowd of people, and her breath caught in her throat as she looked upon the handsome visage of the man she thought was dead. Speaking his name felt simultaneously foreign and familiar upon her lips, and she imagined her voice was breathless as she called out to him. He, too, was surprised to see her, and the throng of passersby seemed to fade into oblivion until only they were left alone together.
They spoke, awkward and shy as was their custom together, and they alternated between stretches of uncomfortable silence and bouts of laughter as they reminisced about old times. The princess felt her heart thud in an all-too-familiar manner; she felt as giddy and girlish as she felt during the first tender throes of love they experienced. It was easy to feel this way about the cavalier - and it was also wrong.
She had duties, she dully reminded herself during their conversation. Her subjects depended upon her. The court magician had pledged his loyalty to her, but she held doubts that he would wed her and become her true prince. She held doubts that he cared for her with the same depth and passion she gave to him, and she knew it was wrong for her to share her doubts with her once-beloved knight. Was she secretly encouraging him to fight for her? Or did she merely enjoy the attention? He desired her; they both knew it.
They walked to the meadow where they had been standing when their affections were first revealed, and they continued to discuss old memories. The princess tried to persuade the knight to live his life to its fullest, and she could not resist placing her slender hand upon his chest to emphasize that only he knew in his heart what would make him truly happy. His hand rested upon her shoulder, and the unrequited dream they shared in that moment made the princess feel faint. Sensing her distress, perhaps, the knight gathered her in his strong arms and simply held her as time, silently jeering with its mockery, passed and changed nothing for its effort. All too soon, he released her from the embrace, and the princess felt flushed and guilty for the pleasure she derived from it.
She quickly and quietly insisted that it was time for her to return to the palace where she knew the court magician would be waiting for her. Her footsteps were fast as she made her way from the meadow, but she paused as she neared the edge of the clearing. Would her knight follow her? Would he ask her to stay? She was dismayed at herself for inwardly wanting him to do both things, but all she could do was pause and hope that he took her hesitation as a sign. When no footsteps sounded behind her and no words escaped his lips, the princess returned to her castle without looking back.
The court magician was sound asleep when she arrived, and she sat at her vanity and stared into her reflection before reaching for her comb. She would not sleep this night.
But she would dream.