"I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be" -DIDO

A beautiful child with a sweet expression stood before her; less than ten summers old. She watched as the child wound her way through the city with a handful of wilted flowers. Her blonde ringlets and huge blue eyes coupled with a shy smile charmed the captain of the city guard. To the little girl he was an eternity's time older than she was, but looking back he was probably only 25. He had dark hair and light eyes and a friendly smile and he always stopped what he was doing when he saw her. This morning he was giving orders to his men.

The child wound her way in slow circles across the street around him, getting a little closer each time, waiting for him to notice her. One of his men said something and she saw him look over and smile before beckoning her over. She lowered her eyes and looked up at him under her lashes with a little grin as she came to stand before him.

"Well now, little Miss Cyréne," he said with his arms crossed, "what are you doing out and about so early this morning?"

She didn't say anything, but pulled her hands from behind her back to show him her flowers.

"Oh, I see. Are you taking those to someone special?"

Golden ringlets bobbed as she nodded. "I'm taking them to Lady Mara."

He looked surprised. "Are you going to say prayers?"

She nodded again and a frown crossed her face. "Do you think these are good enough, Taren?" she said looking down at the weeds. "She doesn't answer me. I look and look for pretty flowers, but I think they're all outside the city." She looked up at him and twisted her little mouth to the side before motioning him lower so she could tell him a secret

He grinned and bent down. "I'm scared to go by myself," she whispered. "Do you think Lady Mara is mad 'cause I'm not brave? Maybe that's why she doesn't listen."

"No, I don't think she's mad at you, Sweetheart. Those flowers are perfect, because they're from you. Promise me you won't go outside the city by yourself, okay?"

"I promise."

He grinned down at her again. "When did you learn my name, Miss Cyréne?"

She looked up at him with huge fear-filled eyes and dropped her flowers. Her bottom lip trembled slightly. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I asked a servant and they told me. Did I do wrong?"

Taren bent on one knee and pulled her to his side while he picked up the dropped flowers. "No, of course not. I just wondered how you got so smart," he said teasingly.

She shrugged, all smiles again. "I like you," she said simply. "I wanted to know your name."

"You could have asked me."

"I wanted to know before."

"Before what?" he said with another grin.

She looked up at him and her cheeks dimpled slightly. "Before I was brave enough to ask"

"And why is that?" he couldn't help asking.

"So I could ask Lady Mara to protect you, and she wouldn't get confused. There are lots of soldiers. I want her to know my prayers are for just you."

Taren didn't say anything for a minute. He just looked into her earnest face and wide blue eyes. "Thank you, Cyréne. What else do you pray for?"

She sighed, "That I can be good."

He looked at her in surprise. "I'm sure you're good. I've never heard of you breaking the law – and I'm the captain of the guard, I would know," he said with a raised eyebrow.

She grinned and shook her head vigorously, turning it into a frenzy of ringlets. "No, I wouldn't do that."

"How about tomorrow, we go look for flowers together, just you and me?"

She smiled and threw her arms around his neck before giving him a little wave and skipping down the street.

Taren turned to two of his men and beckoned them over. "Tell all of the guards not to let that child out of their sight. I don't know what the Oblivion is wrong with her parents, letting her traipse about the city alone."

One of his men shook his head. "I don't know either Captain. Pretty little thing like that, and such a sweet child – someone could snatch her in an instant."

Taren nodded. "Make sure that doesn't happen."

The next morning he was waiting for her. He wasn't wearing his uniform. He had on regular clothes with his sword and belt. Cyréne came running up to him with an apple in each hand. She was wearing boy's trousers and boots, with a boy's button-up shirt and triangle of cloth tied in her hair. They were all boys' clothes, but it was obvious they'd been made especially for her. She handed him an apple and beamed up at him.

"Who are you?" he said, "I'm expecting a little girl in a dress."

Cyréne's mouth dropped open. "But, I'm the little girl in a dress. Um, well not today, but It's me, Cyréne!"

"Oh? It is you! You look even prettier than usual. Are you ready to find flowers?"

She nodded and slipped her hand into his, and they headed toward the gate. She craned her neck as they passed the stables looking behind him as they passed.

"You know," he said, "we might find a lot of flowers, maybe we should take my horse."

She looked at him like he'd just offered her one of the moons.

Taren found himself smiling all morning as the shy little doll he was used to seeing gave way to a chattering tomboy full of mischief and little jokes. She danced around him picking up flowers here and there, but soon all of her attention was focused on him.

"Taren?"

"What is it?"

"Um . . . well . . ."

"Um, well?"

She rolled her eyes. "Are you going to get married one day?"

He gave her a shocked look before grinning. "I hope so, why?"

She just smiled at him and continued flitting around before stopping suddenly and looking up at him. "When?"

"Oh, probably not for two or three years, at least."

She nodded in relief and then her brow furrowed and he could see the wheels turning in her head. She flopped down on the grown with a huff and rested her chin on her hand.

"What's wrong?"

She looked up at him with a pout. "I'm only eight, that's not enough time for me to grow up."

"Miss Cyréne!" he said in a shocked voice. "Are you proposing marriage?"

She looked up at him uncertainly. For a moment the shy little doll was back, but then she grinned and stood up with her hands balled on her hips. "Yes!"

Taren threw back his head and laughed. "Well do you have a ring for me?"

Cyréne bit her lip and looked around. She grinned and pulled a flower from its stem and wove the stem into a braided green ring. "Here," she said.

Taren grinned and put it on. "Look at that, it fits! I guess that means we're married."

Cyréne smiled in her daydreams remembering the year that passed. Every week Taren took her for a ride, sometimes they had a picnic. Every morning she stopped and said hello and got a hug from her 'husband'. Her prayers to Lady Mara got longer and longer. The priestesses would smile at each other as they listened to her pray for Taren, and pass each other concerned looks as they heard her plea for Mara to make her good.

Then came the morning when Taren wasn't there.

She came running up holding a piece of fruit to give him only to find a stranger standing in his place. The man turned around, startling her, "Where are your parents, child?"

She opened her mouth but no sound came out. One of the men he'd been talking to stepped forward and said something to him. He looked back at Cyrene and his face softened. "Take her to him then," he said to the guard.

Cyréne followed the guard to a temple she'd never been in before. He brought her inside and spoke to a priestess while Cyréne fidgeted nervously and looked around. The priestess looked over at her and nodded to the guard. He left and the woman walked over to Cyrene.

"This way, child," she said putting a hand on her shoulder.

Cyréne walked wide eyed down the hall until the woman stopped in front of a room and stood back for her to go inside. Cyréne took a step in and looked back at the priestess who gave her a gentle push. "Go on, child."

Cyréne crept toward the bed. Taren's eyes were closed and he didn't have a shirt on. The blankets were pulled up under his arms, but she could see a heavy bandage wrapped around his chest. There was a gash on the side of his face and one of his arms was badly burnt. She inched closer until she was standing pressed against the bed.

She slipped her small hand into his large one. "Taren?" she whispered.

His eyes fluttered open and he looked over at her. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. "Cyréne? You shouldn't be in here, sweetheart."

Her eyes filled with tears, "Please don't make me leave Taren. I'll be quiet, I promise."

He smiled. "Alright, but it hurts to talk okay, so just sit with me for a little while."

She nodded and dragged a chair over to his bed before sitting down and placing her hand back in his.

"I've never seen a child sit so still and quiet," one of the priestesses whispered, hours later.

"I know," whispered another. "That's the child that Sophinia at the Temple of Mara was telling me about. She said the little dear prays for Taren every day. She's only eight."

"That's strange for a child so young, especially a child of such wealthy parents."

The priestess shook her head. "They don't even know she's gone, I imagine. Sophinia tells me the child prays for goodness and for Taren's safety, and that's all she ever asks."

They looked at each other for a moment, and understanding passed between them. "More than one life hangs in the balance this day," said the first. "Send a message to Sophinia."

When the sun began to set, one of them showed Sophinia into the room and she put her hand on Cyréne's shoulder. "Come child, the temple is closing now, you have to leave, but you can come say your prayers to Lady Mara before you go home."

Cyréne nodded and slipped quietly off the chair. "Can I come back tomorrow?"

"Yes, you can."

They entered the temple of Mara and Sophina left the room. The next morning she came down to find the child asleep in the same spot she'd left her.

"Cyréne? Wake up, have you been here all night?"

The little girl woke up and beamed at her. "Yes, I prayed and prayed and told Lady Mara I'd find a way to be good on my own, so she could make Taren better."

Sophinia smiled. "You have great faith, little one."

Cyréne nodded and darted out the door. Sophinia knelt at the alter and began prayers of her own. "Lady Mara, see the faith of this child and answer her prayers . . ."

Cyréne crept into the temple and slipped down the hall to Taren's room unnoticed. She stood beside his bed and held his hand. His breathing sounded funny.

"Cyréne?" he wheezed.

"Yes, Taren, I'm here."

"Stay with me, okay?"

"I will, I promise."

She sat for hours after his hand went cold in hers, refusing to let go, tears pouring down her face in silence, keeping her promise to be quiet and to stay. Finally they sent for her father. He collected her immediately. One of the priestesses handed Cyréne something. "This was in his pocket, child. He wanted us to give it to you." It was the ring she made him.

Sophinia came running up as they left the temple. She bent and wrapped her arms around Cyréne. "Oh, Cyréne, I'm so sorry child. You must know Lady Mara watches over Taren even now."

Cyréne jerked out of her arms violently and took a step back. "No, she doesn't. She doesn't watch over anybody. I'll never pray to her again."

Those were the last words she spoke for over a year. Not even the fact that Taren left her his horse, could draw an emotion from her. Her eyes were dull and lifeless. Her father finally offered to hire a trainer and let her ride all day every day if she would just speak to them again. "Hire him today," was all she said.