The Knight

The warrior atop his horse was no different than the surface of his armour.

The orphan had grown up without warmth, his heart a blizzard, and his world black and white. The crown had bestowed upon him a home in exchange for his might. He was taught to be stoic; taught to be ruthless; taught to be the brick wall that would protect the majestic maiden. The Princess.

It was the princess whom he was to shield. But it was also the princess who had shown him the light. The man of armour, a heart as cold as ice, had melted before the hearth. The hearth constructed of every figment of benevolence and kindness exuding from the maiden. The maiden of which he was to protect; the maiden far beyond his reach.

For the first time, the man had shown heart underneath the fa├žade of his armour. For the first time, he had developed a feeling that was neither hate, nor sorrow, nor anger. It was a glowering ember that formed inside his soul. He could not piece together the puzzle of mixed feelings. His eyes had been opened to a world of colour. The brick wall had fallen, and a new one constructed in its place. The ameliorated barricade now protected the maiden with reason and motivation.

But what will become of the wall when penetrated? It was not an enemy of combat, but an aristocrat atop his white steed. His gleaming crown polished in glory, his beaming charms elevated the princess's heart. The wall failed to act as a barrier this time.

Always by the maiden's side, but never qualified for the reserved seat within her heart. She was enamoured with the prince. The prince, who opened her doors, widened her horizon and allowed for the flower of love to fully blossom. The princess found herself achieving new heights on the swings of bliss in what seemed like an everlasting spring. Her barricade had been locked away in a lonesome, perpetual winter.

Everything good must come with something bad; every immaculate sheet was bound to receive a stain. Thunderstorms arose, the earth began to rumble, and havoc was amongst the kingdom. A malicious shadow had slithered its way into the princess's nest. Her barricade acted without hesitation, as if he had lived for this moment. He obviated any possible damage to the princess, he deflected the malevolence and eventually, he had fallen.

The wall was demolished, but he had felt no repent. He came to realize the feelings that he had harboured all along. Love. Before his eyes, the princess drowned in tears, stripped of her grace; her gentle smile, wiped off her face. The knight found his identity. He was not the metallic amour, but the man beneath him. He was not the impenetrable shield, but the vulnerable soul within. He was not the wall erected to defend the princess, but the man who loved her with all his heart, who would, without hesitation, die for her safety.

He found a teardrop rolling along his cheek. The knight had cried for the first time, and it would also be the last time. His heart felt the warmest it had ever felt. The ember within, had burst into a powerful flame.

The flame faded.

The helmet rolled off his head.

His heartbeat stopped.