Thunk!

The block of wood split in two with a satisfying splintering sound as the axe bit into it. A second hit had it neatly quartered and ready for the wood stack.

A cartload of freshly cut green logs had been delivered to the castle several days ago, and had sat nagging at Gunther ever since. He knew it needed doing soon, before it could dry out too much. Green wood was much easier to split than it would be after a few weeks in the sun, and kinder on the axe, too.

Although it seemed counter-intuitive to cut and stack firewood in the midst of the summer heat, Gunther knew the whole castle would suffer come winter if the task was left undone.

He rested his axe against the wall and gathered up an armful of the freshly split logs, stacking them neatly before lining up several new blocks and taking hold of the axe again. It was not even mid-morning and the harsh sun would not be overhead for a while yet, but he had already broken into a sweat.

Rake would be along shortly to help stack the wood as Gunther split it, but until the tomatoes were all attended to the knight was working alone.

For once he did not mind, despite the physical demands of the task and the sweat stinging his eyes. The work was not mentally taxing, and when he found a good rhythm, the labour was not unbearable. It was the perfect task for a man who was trying to remain focused and not let his mind wander.

When he had to concentrate on the placement of the axe and finding the natural fault lines in the wood, he had less time to think of mint and lavender scented curls and eyes that shone under the moon.

Grunting, Gunther swung the axe with more force than it needed, cursing as it lodged into the block of wood. He worked it free and swung again, successfully cleaving his target.

This would not be the last load of wood before winter, but it was not the first of the year, either.

Ordinarily Jane would be there to help, stacking as he split, trying to out-pace him so she could wait impatiently for more chopped pieces, gloating at his slowness. As with all of their tasks that turned into competitions, Gunther had to search for a way to challenge her, and had taken to sneaking out for a head start, so that when Jane found him he would be surrounded by a small mountain of firewood ready for the stack.

He would split wood as quickly as he could, until his haste affected his precision and his muscles ached in protest. It was always worth it for a reprieve from Jane's impatiently tapping foot and smug smile when she caught up to him.

Sometimes she would nag to be allowed to wield the axe and Gunther would gladly hand it to her, his smirk carefully hidden as he stood aside.

Loathe though he was to admit it Jane had many talents, however splitting wood was not one of them.

He would watch in amusement as she turned a block of wood into kindling, unable to get a clean split and swinging the axe with increasing frustration.

"She splits wood like lightning," Sir Ivon had told Gunther once, when he had paused to join his former squire in watching.

Gunther had gaped at his mentor in confusion until the Scotsman added with a twinkle in his eye "Aye, she never strikes the same place twice!"

Gunther had laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks and he had to retreat to the kitchen for a drink lest Jane turn the axe upon him.

The memory still brought a smile to his face, and instinctively he looked up to remind Jane, to tease her as he usually did when she gave up and returned the axe after producing a pile of kindling, but of course she was not there.

It was only Gunther, and a pile of wood that needed stacking away.

Sighing, he set the axe aside and gathered up an armful.

The Jane who had shivered against him in her chemise the night before would not be lifting an axe or a log of wood any time soon. She looked so fragile and delicate that, had he not seen it with his own eyes for years, he would not even think her capable of such a task.

Her condition troubled him, and Gunther was beginning to wonder if she would regain her physical strength when her memories returned -if they returned.

But of course she would, in due time, and all would be as it once was. This current version of Jane was not the real one. She was not permanent.

But gods be damned if she wasn't distracting.

Placing the last piece of wood on the stack with more force than needed, Gunther picked up the axe once again, the handle threatening to cause blisters on his palms if he did not take a break soon.

He had promised to visit Jane that afternoon, but...

He swung the axe down and did not hear footsteps.

"You look to be working hard, Sir Gunther," said a lilting voice, and Gunther turned to see Princess Lavinia framed by the arch in the wall, her arm linked through Jane's.

"Your Highness," he said, startled, before bowing. "My Lady," he added, nodding his head towards Jane. "I did not realise you would be walking in this part of the garden today."

He could just hear Sir Ivon's irritated muttering as the older knight stood several paces behind the two women, sword in place at his side.

"We are taking a turn around the grounds for our health. Do you not think Jane is looking well in the fresh air?" Lavinia squeezed Jane's arm where it looped through her own.

In truth Gunther was more concerned about how he looked at that moment, using his free hand to push the hair back off his sweat-soaked forehead. There were chips of wood nested in there, no doubt, and his loose work shirt was threadbare and filthy. He was in no fit state to visit with noble ladies.

Still, he obliged the Princess, taking in with some satisfaction the colour in Jane's cheeks, and her bright-eyed gaze. She wore a blue dress, which fit slightly loose. It looked to be one of the Princess' cast-offs, and even at sixteen she was taller than Jane. The colour suited her all the same and her hair burned brightly against it.

"She looks well," he agreed, noting that Jane's pleased smile was rather more subdued than Lavinia's.

"There, you see?" The Princess told Jane. "I knew he would think so. She will look even better when you call upon her this afternoon," she added, addressing Gunther again.

"Your Highness, please, Sir Gunther is a busy man," murmured Jane, looking away.

"Perhaps, but he will make time for you, Jane." Lavinia nodded at Gunther before leading Jane away, and Sir Ivon rolled his eyes heavenward as he followed them, limping slightly on his bad leg.

Gunther leaned back against the wall when they were gone and dragged his shirt sleeve across his face.

He would have to find the time this afternoon to wash up before he went visiting in the castle. He had promised, and Jane had seemed so pleased at the time, but that had been last night, when the world was still and no one else knew. Now it was the harsh light of day and he could not think of a single thing to talk about with her, this not-Jane.

But the Princess had made it quite clear that he would be true to his word and visit, and so it must be. Perhaps she would be there also and fill the silence with her usual chatter.

"Sir Gunther! I am sorry to have kept you waiting, but the tomatoes are all settled now."

Rake jogged towards him, all gangly limbs and unkempt hair, his usual shy smile in place. Gunther knew his rail-thin body held a surprising amount of strength, the result of days filled with manual labour.

Nodding, he straightened and raised the axe again, intent on keeping them both busy until lunchtime.

"Sir Gunther, are you headed for the castle?"

Gunther raised his gaze from his freshly polished boots as they strode through the gardens and spotted Rake running towards him once more, this time with a bunch of roses in hand.

He slowed his pace and let the gardener catch up.

"Princess Lavinia requested these, perhaps you could take them with you?"

Gunther eyed the flowers, remembering how hard Rake had worked and how much more quickly the work of preparing the firewood had gone with his assistance.

"Very well," he said, taking the roses in hand.

There were red, white, pink and yellow ones, each of them flawless, with glossy dark green leaves and the thorns carefully removed. Flowers fit for a princess.

"She admired them on her walk this morning," Rake admitted, a hint of pride in his voice. He was still sweaty from their morning's work, his hair a mess and his hands crusted in dirt.

Gunther, washed and wearing a clean change of clothes with his hair neatly combed and now with a bouquet of roses in hand, was tempted to exchange places with him.

Instead he nodded in parting and continued on towards the visit.

The scene in the Princess' sitting room was almost idyllic. Jane sat with needlework in hand, her mother standing behind her and suggesting corrections. Lavinia was curled up on a chair near the window, a book held loosely and unread in her hand, watching them. The tranquillity was broken when Lavinia saw Gunther in the doorway and rose quickly from her seat.

"Sir Gunther, there you are!" she exclaimed, causing Jane to fumble with her needlework. "And you bought flowers for Jane, oh how divine!"

She swept towards him and gathered the flowers from his hand as he blinked in confusion.

"No, they-"

"They look to be Rake's finest, too. However did you convince him to let you have them? But then I suppose the whole castle wishes dearest Jane well." She deposited the bouquet onto Jane's lap before turning to Lady Adeline. "Perhaps you and I should go see if my mother is done resting, I am sure she would like to walk in the garden and visit the roses too. Come along, before Sir Gunther gathers them all."

The Lady-In-Waiting could only nod at Gunther in passing as the young royal led her out of the room, completely ignoring the indignation on his face.

What the Devil does she think she is playing at?

"The Princess can be quite a force to reckon with," said Jane, startling Gunther from his thoughts.

He turned to see her admiring the roses, a soft smile on her face as she examined the petals and inhaled their scent. Late afternoon sun poured through the window, giving the room a warm glow and shining softly over her. Despite the ill-fitting dress she easily passed as a noble lady if one did not know her history.

"I believe she means well, however," she added, looking up at him with that same gentle smile.

Gunther licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Uh yes, she has always been a handful. My Lady."

Jane lowered the flowers, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Do you know, I seem to recall that she has." She was silent for a beat or two before smiling again. "Well, a little strength of character is hardly surprising in a princess."

"No, my Lady," agreed Gunther, although 'a little strength of character' was not a fitting assessment of the princess in his current opinion.

He remained near the door until Jane gestured towards the seat Lavinia had just vacated.

"Please sit, Sir. You were working very hard this morning," she said, colour rising in her cheeks again. "I am sure you have earned the rest."

"Thank you, my Lady." Gunther crossed the room in a few paces and sat in the delicately decorated chair. It was a little tight but he did not intend to stay long.

"I see you are working on something," he added after several moments of quiet, nodding at the needlework that sat partially hidden by roses in her lap.

"Oh, yes," said Jane, picking it up with a sigh. "Mother suggested I might enjoy the occupation." She studied the work with a critical eye. "To tell you the truth, Sir, although my mother insists I am simply out of practice, I suspect I have never had a talent for it." She tossed the project lightly aside, looking up in surprise as Gunther tried to muffle a laugh by turning it into a cough. "Sir?"

Gunther shifted in the chair and raised a placating hand. "It is far superior to anything I could produce, my Lady," he assured her.

"Perhaps," said Jane, unconvinced. "Although I very much doubt there is anything you are not good at."

This time Gunther did laugh. "I can find any number of people who would soon disillusion you of that, my Lady, I assure you!"

"No one has had anything but good things to tell me of you, Sir," said Jane, a trifle indignant.

"Well, do no not venture outside the castle walls or dig too deeply and perhaps your opinion will not change for another day or two."

"You are very hard on yourself, Sir."

"I only speak the truth," he replied with a shrug, uncomfortable with the direction their conversation had taken. Why was she so determined to think highly of him? She, or at least some part of her in there somewhere, knew better.

"Well, when one of your detractors saves my life from a rampaging dragon I will considering hearing his opinion. In the meantime, nothing and no one will convince me to think less of you."

The tone of Jane's voice took Gunther back to arguments in the training yard. All he needed now was for her to place her hands on her hips and the image would be complete, dress or no.

Instead, she folded her hands together neatly and looked down, apparently embarrassed by her outburst.

"I apologise, Sir Gunther, but it pains me to hear you speak badly of yourself."

"Jane, please." He stood, unable to get comfortable in the ornate chair, and moved towards the window instead. "I did not save you from Dragon."

He leaned against the sill and looked out towards the mountain. He was long overdue a visit with the beast. Just another chore to add to the list.

"Very well, let us change the subject." Jane pursed her lips in thought for a moment. "I wanted to thank you properly for assisting me last night. You were most gracious and kind."

"Please, my Lady, make no mention of it. Anyone would have done the same."

He had done well to hardly think of the events of the previous night all day. The thought of her face as she stared up at him had scarcely crossed his mind, nor the weight of her in his arms as her head rested against his shoulder. Yet here she was, recalling the memory to his attention again.

"Well it was not anyone, it was you, and I am grateful to you. I would also like to apologise for my... state of dress..." She trailed off, her previous confidence giving way to embarrassment as she looked down and fidgeted with her hands.

Gunther couldn't help smiling as he looked at her. He had seen her wandering around bold as brass and dressed like a man for years without so much as a hint of humility. It was more than a little odd now to see her so distressed over her chemise. Still, Lady Jane had no way of knowing that, which served as a reminder that he was supposed to tread carefully around her current delicate sensibilities.

"Consider it forgotten my Lady," he said softly. "I will not tell a soul."

Jane smiled at him gratefully. "You are so kind, Sir."

He straightened up. "It is nothing, my Lady. Now I should leave you, I have the second watch at the gate tonight and I need to prepare."

Preparing involved several hours of sleep, but he did not need to tell Jane that.

"Of course, Sir Gunther." Jane stood, the roses still in her hand. "Forgive me for taking up so much of your time. I am sure you have a lovely young lady who is cursing me for it."

Gunther stumbled in his journey towards the door, catching himself on the stone mantle of the currently unused fireplace.

"Wh-what?"

"Do you not have an understanding with someone, Sir?"

"I-wha-no!" He looked at her in disbelief. "No sensible woman in the kingdom would wish for an understanding with me."

"Whyever not?" asked Jane, sounding somewhat offended.

"Did you not hear? When the Princess read to you? Just the other day?" Gunther paused, composing himself. "My grandfather betrayed the royal family," he said matter-of-factly.

"That is hardly a reason to-"

"And my father is also a man of... dubious quality," he continued, cutting her off.

"Your father may be, but you are not," said Jane, standing. "If anything, you should be admired more for your excellent character, developed despite the influence of your fore-bearers."

Gunther stared, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words to argue.

"Uh, no..." he said eventually, trailing off as no further thoughts joined in.

"I wish you would not be so unkind to yourself," said Jane, stepping towards him. "You have proven your character to me, Sir, and you have earned my admiration."

She reached out her hand as though to touch his, before hesitating and allowing it to drop to her side instead.

"Thank you for visiting," she said.

Nodding stiffly, Gunther covered the space to the door in two strides, before continuing his rapid pace in the hallway until he turned a corner, at which point he stopped, leaned against the wall and ran a hand through his hair.

"What?" he said out loud to the empty space.

Had Jane just- did she- what was-

"What?" he said again.

'You have earned my admiration.'

But that was- surely she just meant... not admiration, admiration. She just admired... him?

Gunther's hand slid down his face, stopping over his mouth.

"Madness," he muttered against his fingers. "This is madness."

It was at that moment that Princess Lavinia stepped into the same corridor, closing the door to her mother's room behind her before setting off in the opposite direction, unaware of Gunther' presence.

He stared blankly at her retreating figure for a moment before he recalled a bunch of roses, requested by Lavinia and thrust into his hands for delivery. Her insistence that he visit that afternoon. The unusual route of her daily walk that morning. Her requirement that he be the one to stand guard over their morning tea the other day.

"Princess," he hissed, his eyes narrowing, before setting off in pursuit. "Allow me to escort you, Your Highness," he said, catching up to her easily.

Lavinia's jump at the sound of his voice was almost imperceptible, but Gunther was watching her closely.

"Sir Gunther, I did not expect your visit with Jane to end so quickly," she said, disappointment in her tone.

"It was merely a brief call," he replied, his tone deliberately light.

"But surely you wanted to spend time with her," Lavinia prompted.

"I would rather have spent time with her stacking firewood this morning, or training at staves. It is very inconvenient her being... ill, for so long." Gunther kept an eye on the princess's face as he spoke. Yes, that was definitely dismay flitting across her features.

"But do you not think she looks so lovely-" she began, before Gunther cut her off.

"Now listen, Princess," said Gunther sternly, standing still and turning towards her. Lavinia halted her walk to mirror his actions.

"This is not a game. Jane is not some toy to be played with. Her memories will return and she will be sorely disappointed by your behaviour. Your Highness."

Lavinia blinked at him. Gunther was unsure if she was considering his words, or simply how much trouble she could get him into for his insolence.

"What if they do not?" she asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Her memories, Sir Gunther. If they do not come back, what then?"

"That is... that is not the point, Your Highness," said Gunther, deflated. This was not the conversation he had planned.

"But it is the point, Sir. That Jane is the only Jane we have, she may be the only Jane we ever have, and I for one think that her feelings do matter."

"We have no way of knowing that..."

"Indeed, we have no way of knowing that Jane will ever remember how extraordinary she has been. So although we may hope she does, I will not be party to this castle-wide pretence that her life is of no meaning if she does not. Sir." Lavinia glared at Gunther, as if daring him to disagree.

He sighed, frustrated, and filed her words away for later consideration. He still had his own point to make.

"Your Highness, that does not justify putting ideas into her head about, about romance! About delicate feelings which do not exist!" He gestured widely. "It is cruel, and-"

"I agree, Sir Gunther," Lavinia cut him off indignantly. "Which is why I have done no such thing."

"You... have not?"

"Of course not," she snapped. "Jane, Lady Jane, lovely Jane, is not, as you so eloquently put it, a toy to be played with. Whatever feelings she has are entirely her own; I take none of the credit for their origin. That mantle, I believe, falls squarely upon your own shoulders."

Gunther paled. "What?"

"Sir Gunther," sighed Lavinia, evidently taking pity on him. "Jane may not be the Dragon-riding, sword-wielding knight we know her to be, but her strength of character remains. Surely you do not think her heart could be so easily manipulated?"

Gunther's own heart dropped at her straight-forward words.

"Please, please tell me you do not think that her feelings are genuine?" He clasped his hands, pleading.

"I know that Jane believes they are," replied Lavinia, placing her own pale hand over his. "You must be kind to her, Sir Gunther. As your Princess I command it, and as her friend I wish it."

Gunther nodded, swallowing thickly. Smiling, Lavinia withdrew her hand.

"I believe I can walk safely from here, Sir," she said before departing, but Gunther hardly heard her.

"Damnation," he muttered softly.