Chapter 3: Childhood Games

In the days that followed, he found her idea rolling back and forth through his mind.

If you take the time to let yourself feel and think everything, then you hide nothing from yourself. If you understand everything inside of you, then you have ultimate self-control.

He always thought that he did have ultimate self-control. Yet in both his encounters, he had been the one left flustered. There was definitely some strange power she had, an otherworldly composure that he had been unable to break, while his own crumbled like burnt paper. Would it be worthwhile to indulge in madness, if it could make him invincible?

He tried to tell himself that the idea was silly and didn't appeal to him at all. It was beneath him to seek guidance from a madwoman. As his interest in returning to the Willow increased, he told himself that he had one true purpose – to find out who she was. With an appropriate motivation decided on, he finally made a decision.

Every night that he could, he would sneak out to the grounds. He often worried that the nights he was unable to leave were the very nights that she was there, that he was missing his opportunity. The nights that he found himself in the growing moonlight but heard nothing, the disappointment felt almost like a blow. Nearly two weeks later, when the moon was little more than half full, he finally caught a wisp of melody.

If you like, we could play a game
Let's pretend that we are the same...

He made his way quickly to the Willow, once again using her voice as a beacon to guide him through the darkness.

But you will have to look much closer
Than you do, closer than you do

As her voice grew, he heard the subtle differences in her song. Her voice was sweet and vaguely childlike, contrasting with the darker tones he had heard her use before.

And I'm far too tired to stay here anymore
And I don't care what you think anyway
'Cause I think you were wrong about me
Yeah what if you were, what if you were?

He stopped for a moment outside the branches, listening. After taking a deep breathe, he made his way inside.

For once, she acknowledged him as soon as he appeared. He heard a small gasp as she jumped up from her seat on the branch. She stepped toward the trunk, causing her form to fuse with it in the dark.

"Lancelot? Is that you?"

She sounded surprised, even a little... scared. He hardly knew what to make of it. He briefly thought of trying one more time to upset her the usual way, but she would most likely switch to a new persona if he tried.

Instead, he called back, "Since that what you seem intent on calling me... Yes, I suppose it's me."

"I wasn't sure I'd see you here again. Why did you come back?" She sounded so shy, he couldn't help but be unsettled. He thought he had prepared himself from the unexpected, but this was almost the opposite of what she had been before. He found himself feeling oddly nervous.

He tried to hide it, doing his best to use a flippant, care-free tone. "I thought about what you said, and decided to try it."

In what little moonlight filtered through the Willow's boughs, he saw a smile form beneath her dark curls. This new smile was warm and inviting, accompanied by a girlish giggle. She once again lowered herself down onto the branch. "Really? Oh, I almost don't know what to do with myself. I've never had anyone else here before."

"What are you talking about? This is the third time now."

"Oh, but that doesn't count. You weren't really here at the Willow... you were standing just outside."

Standing just outside of what, exactly? He shook his head, deciding not to delve into that particular bit of insanity. "Well, now that I'm here... now what?"

"Hmm... To be honest, Lancelot, I'm not really sure! It comes so naturally to me... I suppose the best start is just to be honest."

"Honest..." Honesty had never been his strong point. He'd always dealt in well-crafted facades, saying what he thought would achieve his end rather than what he really thought. "Well, to start, what about your name? I have nothing to call you."

"Oh, but I haven't decided quite who I am tonight... but you are right, I do need a name. Let me think."

She once again began her descent from the tree. He doubted she would give him her real name, not when she seemed so disdainful of reality in general. As she came down toward him he said, "The first night I was here, you said you were the lady of... something. I don't remember what."

"Shallot," she said as her feet hit the ground. "But that makes a terrible name. I could just be the Lady, til I decide who I am for the night." She smiled again. "It's perfect! The Lady and Sir Lancelot. Doesn't it sound lovely?"

He shifted uncomfortably. This was far too weird. "If you say so..." He was starting to wonder whether this was truly a good idea. As out of place as he had felt before, trying to play along was turning out to be even more discomfiting. It felt like one of those terrible dreams where you had to make a presentation at the Ministry and you couldn't even remember what it was about. It was the pressure to do something, but having no idea how to start.

"Don't think about it so much," she advised. "You can't do anything wrong."

"I think that's exactly what makes it so hard."

She froze for a moment, and then a bell-like laugh fell from her lips. "I suppose you're right. It's hard to know where to begin when anything imaginable is an option, isn't it?" She glanced up, putting a finger along the side of her jaw. "Well, to make things easier, we could start playing a game."

"A game?"

She nodded. "We could slay a dragon, storm an enemy castle, fight a war. Or anything else you can think of."

Even when she was pretending to be vulnerable, she still turned him on his head. "That… sounds like the sort of thing little kids do."

"Oh, don't say things like that, Lancelot! It's something children do because they aren't afraid of what everyone else will think. I promise, it doesn't become less fun just because you're older." In a few quick steps, she was beside him, vague features looking oh-so familiar – she grabbed his wrist and pulled him further into the shadows of the tree, until her face was nothing but a dark space beneath her hair. "You wanted a way to start, didn't you? Play a game, like when you were a child. It'll be familiar, and you can let go of all the thoughts in your head that tell you it's wrong. It'll be easier once you do."

A large part of his mind was screaming that she'd laugh at him if he tried to play along, but her encouraging smiles seemed so genuine. If this was what it took to gain her impenetrable armor, then it would be worth it in the end… and he had been so close to making out her face.

"A game, like when I was a child… let me think." He pulled away from her and sat down on the grass. "My favorite game was being a Prince, in some far off land."

"Prince Charming? Or an evil prince?"

"Prince Charming, of course."

"Well then, Prince Lancelot…" She went through the motions of a deep curtsy, though they looked odd without a skirt. "Who am I, then?"

She had been right. Though his doubt about whether or not he should be doing something so juvenile still lingered in his mind, starting with this game made it easier to proceed. "You, my Lady," he began, stumbling a bit over the title, "are the court bard." In his childhood games there had always been a Princess, but there was a limit to how much he was willing to share.

"Of course, Your Highness. And what is on your royal agenda today?"

"The castle is being attacked. Negotiations with centaurs in the nearby forest went sour, and they've declared war." He stood, letting the old fantasy run through him. However, a stray thought made him freeze. "But I suppose that doesn't leave much for you to do..."

"Don't worry about me, my Prince. I'm skilled with a bow an arrow. But if we're going to defend against a centaur army, we should make our way to the ramparts." She ran back to the trunk of the tree. Almost quicker than he could believe, she had jumped to grab the lowest branch and swung herself on top of it. "Come on, we must hurry. Unless they break through the barricades, we won't be able to fight them down here."

He eyed the branch warily. "I don't think it's as easy to get up there as you make it look."

"It's alright. I'll help you, and even if you fall it's not going to hurt."

"It's not getting hurt that I'm worried about," he muttered. He was more concerned about looking like an idiot while he scrambled up. Still, if he was going to do this he might as well go all the way. "Just move out of the way so I have room to swing up."

He moved until he was standing in front of the branch. He was taller than her, so he didn't need jump to get a proper grip. He took a deep breath, then pulled himself up.

"See, it's not difficult. Now, I believe the armory is on the second floor, so we should grab weapons before we go any higher." She stood, using a branch above her to keep her balance, and reached into the empty darkness. "A bow for me, of course, and a scimitar just in case. What do you want?" As she spoke, she went through the motions of sheathing a sword and slinging a quiver on her back.

"Crossbow. And I prefer a broadsword." He mimicked her, imagining that he was taking weapons from the old armory back home. He hung the crossbows from his hip and strapped the sword across his back. "Come on, I need to be able to see what's going on out there."

The branches were fairly thick, making the ascent simple. As he climbed higher into the tree, he occasionally glanced back and found her following him easily.

"Don't go any higher, it's not stable."

Her voice surprised him. He glanced down, realizing that they more than twice as high as her normal perch. The branches were thick around them, which made him feel less worried about falling. "Well, I should certainly be able to keep an eye on everything from here. The good thing about centaurs is you can be sure they won't try to scale the walls... we just need to worry about the doors."

"And the arrows, of course. That's the bad thing about centaurs. Speaking of which..." She ducked down low, clutching an adjacent branch. "That was close." She aimed her bow, firing towards the ground below. "Is there anything we can do other than try to thin them out?"

He crouched down as well, looking down through the gaps in the branches and preparing to use his crossbow. "If they were closer to the walls, we could pour boiling pitch down the sides, but as it is we wouldn't hit them."

"I'm afraid they have the advantage then, m'Lord. We only have the supplies stored in the castle, they can easily wait us out."

"You're right..." He thought for a moment. He could take some of what he said earlier back, but it somehow felt like cheating. What was the best way out of this mess? "I may have to lead the men out to fight them in open battle."

She inhaled sharply. "That's going to be costly. There's an awful lot of them." She drew another arrow from her quiver, aiming carefully. "Do we have enough men for a direct attack?" Her hand released the arrow, and moved so she was completely hidden by branches.

"I'm not sure, but I don't know what else we can try." He leaned farther out, getting a better look at the ground. "There's something wrong. I don't see any battering rams... why aren't they trying to get in?"

She peered through the branches. "Centaurs are patient. Maybe they know you'll come to them."

He shook his head. "Or maybe... My Lady, look! The doors are opening... someone's letting them in!"

"We have traitors in the castle," she hissed.

"Look out!" he shouted, turning quickly. He pulled the broadsword from its sheath on his back, bringing it in front of him to counter. "My own men are attacking us!"

She turned around as well, reaching for the sword at her hip. "We need to get back down as quickly as possible!"

The longer they went on, the more he could see it. There were some men who were attacking them, others who were rushing to help. The Prince and his Bard gathered those were still loyal as they descended through the castle, often stopping to fight a group of rebels.

On the lowest branch, the Bard held out a hand to stop him. "It's not just rebels down there, we're going to have to deal with the centaurs as well."

"True, but most of my men are down here as well. We'll have more numbers on our side, and we know this castle far better than they do."

She nodded to him, and in synchrony they jumped to the ground below.

With the greater part of the Prince's army beside them, it didn't take long to drive the invaders back. When the centaurs had left the castle and they gates were once again closed, they climbed back to the top of the castle to observe.

The Prince breathed a sigh of relief. "It looks like they're heading back to the forest. It's over, for now at least." He leaned against the trunk and laughed.

"What's so funny?" asked the Bard.

"You were right. It's been so many years since I've done this... but it's still fun. And the whole time, you didn't laugh at me."

"Why would I do something like that? I could end up beheaded for being so rude."

The Bard's comment only made him laugh harder. "Well, the battle is over. I think we all need a song, to lift our spirits."

"Of course. What else are bards for? What would you like to hear, my Prince?"

"I'd like to hear the rest of that song from earlier," said the Prince with a soft smile. "Not up hear, though. Let's go down to the grand hall, that's the proper spot for a celebration."

Minutes later she was settled on her usual branch, while he sprawled lazily on another beside it.

Without preamble, she began her song again. The Prince grinned as she made it past the pieces he had heard before.

What if I'm a snowstorm burning
What if I'm a world unturning
What if I'm an ocean, far too shallow, much to deep

Had he really thought that she was a poor singer? Her quiet voice seemed to fit the peaceful night around them. Anywhere else, he might not think she sounded lovely, but here...

What if I'm the kindest demon
Something you may not believe in
What if I'm a siren, singing gentlemen to sleep

He let go of the game he had been playing. He wasn't a prince, though perhaps he deserved to be. But even after he felt like himself, he couldn't let go of the new way that he saw her.

I know you've got it figured out
Tell me what I am all about
And I just might learn a thing or two
hundred about you, baby about you
I'm the end of your telescope
I don't change just to suit your vision
For I am bound by a fraying rope
Around my hands, tied around my hands

He'd had more fun tonight than he'd let himself have in quite some time. And it wasn't something he would have been able to do anywhere else. Maybe there was some strange kind of magic about this spot, about her. In some ways, he felt more like himself than ever.

And you close your eyes when I say I'm breaking free
And put your hands over both your ears
Because you cannot stand to believe I'm not
The perfect girl you thought
Well what have I got to lose?

No expectations. No father to tell him how his actions reflected on his family, no mother to worry how he was affecting his future, no friends to feel embarrassed for him if he slipped up or enemies to drink up his mistakes hungrily.

What if I'm a crowded desert
Too much pain with little pleasure
What if I'm the nicest place you'd never want to go
What if I don't know who I am
Would that keep us both from trying
To find out, and when you have, be sure to let me know...

"Well, my Lady, you were right about a few things at least."

"Just a few? Tell me Lancelot, where was I wrong?"

"Well, it was just a game of pretend after all. I don't see how I learned anything about myself at all."

"Oh really?" She wrapped her arms and legs around her branch, swinging around so she dangled from the underside. "Tell me, were you thinking about what a prince would do in those situations, or did you just do what came naturally?"

"I didn't think about it that much."

"So, if you were a prince whose castle was under siege, that is what you would do. Now you know."

"I suppose you're right," he said with a laugh.

At first she laughed along with him, but then she stopped short, looking at him oddly.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I need to go, Lancelot." She started making her way down the branches.

He quickly followed. "What? Why? Hold on, will you?"

When his feet touched the grass, she was already almost to the edge of the Willow's perimeter. She turned around to face him.

"My eyes are adjusting too much, Lancelot. I'm starting to see more than just your blonde hair. I need to leave."

"You really don't want to know who I am, do you?"

"Your name is like the sun to me, Lancelot." Enough light filtered through the branches for him to catch her smile. "It doesn't belong in this place."

He shook his head in disbelief. He might never get used to how odd she was. "Will you at least tell me when you'll be here again?"

"Why, would you like me to write you a love song by then?"

"No. I just don't want to be sneaking out every night, trying to catch you."

"I normally just come when the mood strikes me... but if you like, we can meet again a week from tonight." Without waiting for an answer, the Lady turned and ran back towards the castle.

"One week..." he whispered to himself. "Alright." She was already out of sight as he started to make his own way across the grounds. "My eyes were adjusting too. I'm sure that I know you."


Author's Note

The song is What If by Emilie Autumn.

Question of the Week: What was your favorite game as a kid?