moonlight most delicate, stars most bright and a beauty most divine

one

Jeanne took a deep breath after the lights had returned, but it was caught in her throat when her closet door burst open letting in a gust of cold freezing air that penetrated through her skin and settled in her bones. Then, out of the literal nowhere, in stumbled a man with a long blue cape and fur on the shoulders of it. He tumbled to the floor with as much grace as one could possibly have and landed with a crash. It was almost as if he had run into the room at full speed. What sounded like silver platters hitting the wooden floor filled her bedroom and she sat in shock. Staring in terror at the intruder.

His blond head lifted from the floor and he seemed to look around before his head fell again and hit the floor with another thump. She immediately jumped from her bed and held back any comments. Looking between the man on the floor and the closet she tried to find an explanation.

Snow flew in through the open closet door, wind howling with rage and she peaked through it, bewildered by the scene before her. A snowy terrain lay behind the door frame, it was no longer her closet but a doorway to another world…or that's what it looked to be. Her thin dress was no shield against the cold and nipping air that caused chills all over her body. What was odd was that the door seemed to be on ground level and not as high as the attic was. Then, before she could fully process it, the door shut closed abruptly; just as sudden as everything else.

"Jehanette! Maman wants to know if you're okay?" She heard the voice of her brother past her closed door. She jumped, heart skipping in her chest as she looked over towards it.

"Y-yes, I… I just, uh, the lamp fell." Jeanne wasn't exactly sure why she concealed the entire truth (as her bedside lamp had been knocked over) . It would be hard to explain that a man had, quite literally, come out of the closet. Of her bedroom closet.

Her brother scoffed, "That sounded like more than just a lamp." The door knob rattled, and she was thankful she had locked it as second nature earlier.

"A gust of wind flew in and knocked the lamp over. I'm fine, it's fine now. So, you could go to bed now."

"Fine, have it your way." Jean walked off, and she could hear his footsteps diminishing as he jogged down the stairs.

Jeanne looked back at the nearly limp body, the only thing that indicated that he was, in fact, alive, was that his head twitched, almost as if he had been electrocuted and his back rose and fell as he breathed. Slowly and cautiously, she took calculated steps towards the man, analyzing every move he made—not that he made any. She figured he had fainted, probably caused by the hard fall he took.

Running back to the closet, she opened the door, but it revealed her plain old closet. She was still puzzled and shocked, the man on the floor with water droplets around him proved that the closet had opened to the outside.

…How had the man stumbled through her closet? Or rather, how had the closet opened to the outside world?

Jeanne knelt next to the man (after having fixed her bedside lamp), poking his cheek to see if he would wake, but he did not. With a struggle, she flipped him over on his back, allowing herself a proper view of him.

He was clothed with strange but fancy clothing. He had a black jacket of sorts, with golden embroidery running down the center. His hands were covered in gauntlets and he also had armour on from his waist down. There was a long sword sheathed to his hip and the majestic cape fanned around him; shoulders and neckline adorned with soft grey wolf's fur, two golden chains kept the cape on him.

The man, himself, did not look foreign. He looked like an Englishman, like any regular Englishman. He had blonde hair that fell to his eyes and a strong jaw. His face was pale, and he looked nearly sick, but he definitely seemed as if he was not from there, at least not from the present time. It almost looked, by the quality of his dresswear and the sword, as if he were from the past, or (alternatively) a very good cosplayer.

She stood from the floor, scratching her head and thinking over what had happened but all she could remember was thunder and then the man in her room. There wasn't much to it. He really had appeared out of thin air. She walked back to her closet and opened it a few more times, checking if it would open to the snow storm again, but it never did. All she ever saw were the few jackets and dresses she had hung inside and, of course, the wall behind them.

Looking around her room for her phone, she found it on her night stand. After reaching it, she unlocked it and quickly searched her contacts for her best friend. Finding her fast, she clicked on the phone number and brought it to her ear. If there was someone that she could tell anything and everything to—it was her best friend.

Ding, ding, ding.

No service… the storm had knocked out all service there was and that left Jeanne with no help. She tried calling again, and again, and again. Nothing.

She looked back at the man, scratching her head and falling onto her bed. There was no way she could keep him there; her mother always woke her up in the mornings and entered the room unannounced with a master key. There was no possible way (in her mind at least) that she could hide a man.

Jeanne stood from the bed, slipping into some sweatpants and walking to the bathroom. She picked up a small bottle and filled it with water, making her way back to the man. She poured the water gently on his face and watched as his eyes slowly fluttered open. He groaned, trying to settle his gaze on something, but he failed, and his eyes fluttered closed a couple of times.

She held her breath, analyzing if he was of any danger, but he seemed much too out of it to attack her, if that were the case. "Are you alright?" She asked.

His blue eyes finally opened, pain written on his face as the young woman came into view. "You…" he breathed, "I—wh…"

She noticed he lifted his hand and took a hold of shoulder as he winced in pain. "I won't hurt you…but, uhm…where do you come from?"

He opened his mouth, his lips dry and his cheeks flushed. "I…" he couldn't form proper sentences.

"Do you want water? Are you thirsty?" She spoke from the security of her bed, looking down at him with wide violet eyes. "Water?" She made an action as if to drink a glass of water.

He coughed, nodding his head and rolling slightly on the floor, she guessed he was in great pain.

Jeanne stood from the bed again, jumping around the man. She filled a glass with water from the bathroom sink and knelt next to him, handing him the glass. He reached for the glass with his free hand but failed when he couldn't stretch it any further, a cry of pain escaping his lips.

Jeanne took deep breaths and set the water down next to her, she offered him a hand, but he shook his head.

"My," he huffed, "my shoulder."

Immediately, she looked over at his shoulder, seeing that it did not look right, and she gave a frown, cringing at the sight. She rounded him again, onto his other side and hesitantly took his hand away from his shoulder. She just watched him, analyzing how strange he was.

"Is it serious?" His accent gave her assurance he was an Englishman. Looking at his eyes, she gave a puzzeled look.

"W-well," she looked back at his shoulder, it was twist far from natural. "I am no doctor, but it looks bad. I think it might be dislocated."

"Dislocated?" The man wheezed.

She nodded. "Mhm, we would have to take you to the doctor's." She said but then she gasped, "Wait, I don't think we should do that… you, where…where do you come from?"

He finally opened his eyes wide enough and gave her a most confused look. "Where am I then?" He asked.

She frowned. "In my room."

"I understand that much, my fair lady," he stopped to take deep breaths, looking at her intently, "but, what village? What duchy?"

Jeanne took his arm and he gasped. "What, may I ask, are you doing, my lady?"

She looked at him. "It's going to hurt, I won't lie. Just, please, do not make any noise, my parents will kill me if they find out you're here."

"Your father would truly—hmpf!" She pulled his arm and he immediately covered his mouth, hoping to muffle his cry of pain. He writhed on the floor in pain and agony, pulling his arm back towards him after a popping sound had filled the room.

She cringed, the noise filling her mind and causing her to shake. "Shhh." She held a finger to her lips. "I know it hurts but I will die if you move too much. Here, let's get you onto the bed."

Jeanne helped him up to a sitting position and then up onto his feet, leading him slowly and silently towards the bed. She sat him down.

"My lady, the king will look favourably upon you for your kind hospitality and for…agh," he held his arm once more, "for risking your own life to protect me."

She frowned, "Well, now that you seem physically able to answer my questions…" She looked him up and down, "Who are you?"

He looked at her, lips still chapped and eyes sunken in, as if he had not slept in days. "I am called Gawain, son of Lot and Prince of Orkney, the Ladies' Knight." He stared at her as she passed him a glass of water.

It wasn't hard to believe something so ridiculous when he had come through her closet.

"And might I have the honour of learning the name of such a brave and sweet lady?" He said as he took the glass of water from her hands.

Jeanne rubbed her neck, standing straight. "I… my name doesn't really matter. What does is…how did you get here?"

Gawain furrowed his brows, smile fading, "What do you mean to say? Was it not you who brought me under your wing?"

She shook her head, looking over at her closet. "You came in through the closet."

"Closet?" He blinked.

She walked towards the closet, opening the door. "You came in through here." She pointed at the clothes.

Finally, it seemed he had realized the gravity of the situation he was in. He looked at the closet in horror, immediately looking around the room, stunned and frightened, to say the least. The pain in his left arm was forgotten and he took hold of the pommel of his sword.

Slowly, Jeanne closed the closet door, taking calculated steps towards him.

He drew his sword once he saw her inch closer to him. "Who are you?" He stood from his place on her bed, "And, where am I? What sort of sorcery is this?"

She lifted her hands in the air. "My name is Jehanette. And again, you are the one who came into my room, I wish to know as much as you do."

The loud footsteps of her brother stomped up the stairs and her heart began beating at dangerously high speeds. The knock on her door soon came and the knight aimed his sword at the door.

"Yo, Jeanne, what the hell? What's going on?" Her brother called, pounding on the door. "I suggest you open up before I tell maman."