He was supposed to be dead.
He was dead, until about two minutes ago. She is captivated by his presence and by the sense of mystery that clung to him even now. He was ever the enigmatic one, ever the one who was never known. She is fascinated by the sound of his voice, fascinated by the way he holds his sword, the way he swings it in a tall arc to catch the light of the moon. She is transfixed simply by the way he moves so efficiently—so effortlessly!—encased in that black armour. She knows it must weigh many tons.
She moves without really comprehending what she is doing. She stays close by the side of a dead legend that is not so dead now. She wonders how this could be: how could he still be alive? Everyone in the world—from the smallest child to the most elderly—knew that he had perished in an epic battle three years ago. How could it be that he is here now, with her, protecting her from harm?
How are you alive? She wants to ask him this question so badly that she is easily distracted this night. It is good he is here to protect her. By what miracle did you survive? Was it the favour of the goddess that saved you? Or something more? She has so many things she wishes to ask this man, this legend, but she knows she cannot—not now, probably not ever. They are private, and she has only just met him. It would be rude to ask these questions. So she decided that she will not.
Vaguely, without noticing, she raises one arm and summons a spell of Light into being. She barely notices the Light flare around her and spring forth from her fingers to attack her opponent; she is still mesmerized by the movements of her protector, her knight in damaged armour. Yet she reflects on how even though his armour is dented and full of old sword strokes, it is still in one piece, can still easily protect the wearer.
Who is under it? She longs to know who her protector truly is. He is not just the enigmatic Black Knight, not just a legend recently revived from the dead, but a real person (for she does not believe there is a reanimated corpse inside or a spirit or some such horrific thing). He must be a very great man to have survived the Mad King's War to protect her now. She is grateful for him, more grateful than she has been for anyone before (except for Sothe, because to him, she will always, always, always be grateful and so much more than grateful).
And he saves her again and again, and she can only wonder at his strength, his impossible speed, his very life. He is a puzzle and she has always liked puzzles, but he is a puzzle she does not think she can solve (at least, not right away and maybe not ever).
"Do not leave my side, Maiden."
He does not order her, this Black Knight, and for that, she is happy. He is firm but he leaves the choice to her and she likes that. But she knows she would not leave his side anyway; she wants to stay by his side, to learn of him what little she can while he is still here. So she answers "I will," sincerely and with joy. He has been an enemy to everyone except her. He is her newfound protector and she won't leave his side; he will have to leave her (and she knows that he will).
For now, for this brief moment, she is content.
A/N: For some reason, I've had this odd desire to write about Micaiah and Zelguis/Black Knight. I didn't like her much at first, but she's grown on me, and I think this would be sort of cute. Don't know why, it was a random whim. I will be writing more, I think, as the mood strikes me. It's...too cute to pass up.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.