He watches her closely. He sees every individual string of hair arc gracefully through the air, sees every piece gather the dim lighting of the moon and shine. He watches as she extends her arm high above her head and—in a tongue so ancient that few remember it—summons Light into being. It envelops her in swirls of white and gold and flows from the tips of her perfectly formed fingers to the very heart of her enemy. He is captivated by her gracefulness, her utter beauty as she is crowned with Light.
The Light fades and they are once again standing in darkness. The moonlight continues to shine down upon the earth and he feels as though it shines only upon them, upon their deadly dancing. He feels as though they are dancing, without touching, without realizing. He raises his sword, holy Alondite, almost without realizing it and strikes down an opponent he does not see but knows is there. His eyes follow her, the silver-haired maiden, small and slight, almost as though he thinks that she will disappear should his eyes leave her for even one moment.
He does not know what to make of this feeling. He lowers Alondite, dripping with the blood of Begnion—yet why would that bother him? He has killed many, and Alondite was stained long ago with the blood of others, innocents and villains alike. He lowers the holy sword slowly and wonders if he will ever spill her blood with his sword. Her back is to him, her fingers stroking the covers of her Thani tome and he knows how easy it would be for him to strike her down.
But he does not want to.
He does not like to strike his opponents down from behind. And he does not want to strike her down at all. He is not a good man—and he is well reconciled with that fact—yet she does not care; he likes that in her. She is willing to allow a murderer, a criminal such as him to protect her from harm and not think twice about it. She smiles at him, is grateful for his help, and yet refuses to cling to him. She is emotionally strong, he sees, and physically weak: she does not let this hold her back.
Maiden of Dawn, they say. Even now, he is sure there are people speaking of her greatness, hailing her wonders, praising her beauty. She heralds in the dawn for all of Daein; she is the one person capable of saving the country and ushering in morning. For this reason alone he must protect her. Yet, he feels that there is something more, another reason for his actions. There is another reason for raising Alondite high, time and time again, to keep her safe and untouched. And it is for this reason he chooses to fight; the former reason he was given, this one he chose.
"Stay close to me, Maiden," he murmurs through the black helmet. She cannot see his face. That is as it should be.
She turns and smiles radiantly, hair tossing in another arc, tome hugged to her chest. "I will," she says sincerely.
Beneath his helmet, the Black Knight smiles a true smile—his first in a very long time.
A/N: Here's the next update. A slight bit shorter than the last one, but I like this one a lot anyway.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
