Disclaimer: The usual-they all belong to Saban, not to me.  I don't have permission to use them, and I don't get paid for it.

Notes and Timeline: Original team, not in any Power Ranger timeline. This was inspired by Rap's version of "Strangers With Familiar Faces", the section where Tommy assigns medieval roles to all the Rangers.  This story is being done with her knowledge and permission.  Thanks Rap!  Please note that any misspelling of a canon character's name is wholly intentional, as was the fact that I've played a bit fast and loose with some of the personalities as well.

Warning:  Dang, I was hoping to avoid any warnings this time, but better safe than sorry.  There is a scene in this story that depicts the severe corporal punishment of a child, which could be considered child abuse.  This scene does not represent the parenting beliefs of the author, but was included to illustrate the societal beliefs of the fictional country in this tale.  If you think such a scene will upset you, please do not read this story. 

White Knight in Shining Armor

By Mele

"My lady," he said, "I am a hero.  It is a trade, no

more, like weaving or brewing, and like them it has

its own tricks and knacks and small arts.  There are

ways of perceiving witches, and of knowing poison

streams; there are certain weak spots that all dragons

have, and certain riddles that hooded strangers tend to

set you.  But the true secret of being a hero lies in knowing

the order of things.  The swineherd cannot already be wed

to the princess when he embarks on his adventures, nor

can the boy knock at the witch's door when she is away

on vacation.   The wicked uncle cannot be found out and

foiled before he does something wicked.  Things must happen

when it is time for them to happen.  Quests may not simply be

abandoned; prophecies may not be left to rot like unpicked

fruit; unicorns may go unrescued for a long time, but not forever. 

The happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story."

Schmendrick asked, "Why not? Who says so?"

"Heroes," Prince Lir replied sadly.  -  Peter S. Beagle  "The Last Unicorn"

King Caplyn stood at the window of his throne room looking out over the lush, green valley that was the centerpiece of his kingdom.  No other king in the eight provinces had such a fertile, beautiful location for his castle.  Nor did any other king have such loyal, hard working subjects to fully utilize the bountiful gifts as Caplyn had.  Being a good, wise king, he tried to remember to daily thank the fates that he had been so blessed.  He had riches, health, and a daughter he loved beyond all measure.  If only his wife still survived, then he could have counted himself the luckiest soul ever to exist.  But the loss of his beloved Gwendolyn was the pain that countered his blessings, and though he could not ever claim that he appreciated that balance, he did understand it.  And he did still have Kymberly, his delicate, beautiful daughter to gladden his heart and give him a reason to carry on.

Even now he could hear her clear voice, raised in song as it so often was.  A wise man had once told him that the sweetest music came from a happy heart.  If that was indeed true, then his Kymberly had the happiest heart in his entire kingdom.  Fatherly pride aside, no one would debate that her voice was anything but pure and unusually lovely, just as she herself was.  The king smiled to himself as he realized her voice was drawing nearer his throne room.

"Father, I was looking for you," she declared hurrying up to her parent to give him a kiss and affectionate hug.  She was still but fourteen seasons of age, just on the cusp of young womanhood.  Barely five feet tall, she had long, silky chestnut hair and soft brown eyes that could melt the heart of an ogre. 

"You were, were you?  Why was that, my child?" he asked with a smile.

"Some of my friends are going out tonight to the talent show at the Inn.  May I please go as well?  I'd like to compete in the singing, I need to know if I'm any good," she pleaded.

"My daughter, your voice is by far the fairest in all the kingdom. If you go to this competition you will deny everyone else the chance to win," he began, then stopped as he saw her disappointment.

"It means so very much to you?" he queried gently.

"It does.  I won't tell them who I am, so I'll have a chance to be judged fairly.  Just this one time I'd like to be treated as a normal person.  Please?" she wheedled. 

It wasn't in the king's nature to deny his daughter much, and he all too well remembered his own youth and longing to be 'normal'.

"You must take a small platoon of guards with you," he said sternly, steeling himself against her protest.  "They can dress in casual clothes, but they must be present.  If you can consent to that, then you have my permission."

She squealed in delight, flinging her arms about his neck in joy.  "Thank you, Father!  Thank you so much!"

He patted her back fondly, enjoying her embrace and happiness.  "My only regret at the moment is that I cannot be present to hear you compete.  But that would simply not do at all," he sighed.

"I'll tell you all about it right away, soon as I get home" Kymberly promised as she headed toward the door.  "I have to get ready!"

~*~

Tomas was granted a rare day off by his employer, as a reward for killing the wolf that had been preying on their stock.  The young man decided to spend his day of liberty in town, a special treat for a boy who had been working daily since he was twelve.  Now fifteen, Tomas was already well on his way to his full adult height of six feet, though he had yet to achieve the muscle mass that would give his body a more balanced look.  As it was now he was thin as a string bean.

The teen wandered through the village, content to watch the people milling about, inhaling the savory scent of roasting meat coming from the row of food stalls.  He had no coin, so he steered clear of the food court, fearing his hunger might drive him to steal, which would result in a most terrible punishment when he was caught.  So to avoid that risk he went in the opposite direction, until he spied a sign outside the local Inn advertising a music contest that very night.

"That would be just the thing.  They aren't charging admission, so I can enjoy a pleasant evening of free entertainment," he mumbled to himself contentedly.  Noting that the contest would begin in less than an hour he went inside and found himself a secluded table that still provided a good view of the makeshift stage the singers would be using.  Thankful for his good fortune, he sat down and waited patiently for the show to begin.

~*~

That night young Kymberly sang as never before, and as the last notes drifted away there was a momentary hush from the audience; they were so spellbound they forgot to applaud.  That brief lull nearly broke Kym's heart, but the swell of applause more than made up for the fearful moments she passed.  Still a trifle shaky from nerves, she curtsied formally to the audience before retiring to the backstage area to the welcome congratulations from her friends and the other performers, most of whom had no idea of her true identity.

There were two members of the audience who were especially inspired by the youthful singer.  One sat in a dark alcove, a black cloak drawn around his thin shoulders, a look of intense concentration on his face.  Skullavich knew full well who the girl was, as he knew all royalty by sight.  As a student of black magic, he felt it was his sacred duty to be able to identify all royal family members.  One never knew when a highly placed hostage could prove to be useful. 

But using the girl as a hostage didn't really cross his mind. He simply wanted Kymberly for his own, and was determined he would get her, one way or another.

Young Tomas was similarly affected by Kymberly's performance.  He sat on his chair, staring at the stage she'd occupied, scarcely remembering to breathe.  Never before had he beheld such beauty, never had he heard such incredible music, never had his soul been moved in this manner.  He wondered how he could discover her identity when the soft conversation between two men seated near his table cut into his thoughts.

"Her highness was in rare form tonight, wasn't she?" the first man asked.

"Indeed.  I was a bit put out by being called to duty this evening, but I have to confess it was worth it," the second man concurred.

"The king does right to guard her so closely.  If I had a daughter such as that I'd keep her close too," his companion replied.

"She's the king's daughter?" Tomas whispered to himself.  He got up and stumbled out of the Inn, his mind in turmoil.

"She's a princess, and I'm a nobody.  Less than a nobody.  She'll never even notice me.  Unless..." his expression lightened as an idea occurred to him.  "She may not notice a lowly farmhand, but a hero?  A hero she'd have to notice."

He wandered on, not in the direction he would have to go to return to his former employer, but in the opposite direction, his soul on fire with the determination to become the greatest of heroes.  Only then would he believe himself worthy to seek the hand of the one he loved.

The idea that he might fail, or, worse yet, be killed, never crossed his mind.

~*~

3 Seasons Later

Kymberly moved stealthily through the quiet corridors of the palace, stopping frequently to listen for the sounds of pursuit.  The early morning stillness was unbroken by any human sounds so the young woman carefully opened a side door and slipped out into the dimly lit dawn.

At last clear of the palace, she began a quick jog toward the village, secure that her cloak hid her identity from any observers.  Her father didn't approve of her fondness for walking amongst the common folks, hence the necessity of sneaking out at such an ungodly hour.   Ever since she had passed her 17th birthday, she and her father had been at odds more frequently as her youthful impetuousness went against her parent's traditionalism.  He felt that as the future queen, his daughter needed to show a certain restraint, while she chafed more and more under the burden of her duties.  Though he usually came across as stern and unyielding, it was done out of a sense of love and a genuine desire for his daughter to be successful. In his secret heart he applauded her independence and spirit, though convention kept him from telling her so.

Kym never noticed the dark clad figure shadowing her as she neared the village, and was completely unprepared when a rag soaked in some sort of noxious liquid was pressed over her lower face.

She slumped into the stranger's arms without a struggle.

TBC