Thy Secrets Should Be Sung

Chapter One: Once Upon a Time

 He pushed aside a fern and made his way downhill. The brush was thick here. Blessed by eternal spring, the thicket had grown tall and wild. Lichen, moss; branches bristled with buds, life sprouted from every corner, from every rocky crevice.

It was a sacred grove.

Here he found her, hidden amongst the trees, nestled between the exposed roots of an old hollow oak. The willows had given way to her, the trees had bowed, the ground was softened by her touch.

He cleared his throat. "Princess!" he called, "I have returned."

She rose to greet him. Her gown clung to her, a single shoulder strap lay loose, forgotten in the afternoon haze. Light filtered through the canopy, she basked in the warmth of a sunbeam.

"Good day," said the Princess. "I thought I saw a raven this morning."

"There are no ravens here." The Knight bowed. She accepted this, then sat: elbow to knee, hand to chin, beckoning for him to join her. "Won't you sit?" she asked. She looked away, towards the trees.

"As you wish," said the Knight.

He began to move towards her, but a strange stiffness took hold of him; his armor seized, his strength was sapped. "I-I could not find you in the meadow, or the grotto," he said. "The vineyard is empty. The peacocks fret, the swans are lonely. The summer house is cold without your company."

The Princess gave him a certain look. "I have been right here," she said, and she spread her arms wide, gesturing to the elms and the oak and the climbing ivy. "Sitting, and thinking, and enjoying the sound of the wind through the leaves."

He turned from her. "I though you had escaped me."

She narrowed her eyes and studied the Knight. He could feel her eyes pierce his armor and his soul, searching for something hidden.

"The fence is tall, the gate is iron," she said after some reflection.

A thrush fluttered through the canopy, its shadow dancing over the brush below.

"Impenetrable," the Knight assured himself. "Inescapable."

"Quite so," said the Princess. "Thus we remain, together—here, beneath the poplar tree."

She made a fist, then unfurled her fingers, spreading her palm flat.

"You know my desires," the Knight said. "You know the conditions of your freedom. A pittance, I should imagine, compared to an eternity within these small and stifling confines."

The Princess smiled but said nothing. This spurred the Knight on:

"Yet, my Princess," he said, "I hope these conditions are not unbearable. I seek your hand, and am loathed to tie them. This garden, this prison—it is a masterpiece, the finest and most tranquil of cages. Your needs are tended here, with pleasures enough to last a lifetime."

"There is only one thing I want."

"A triviality most live without," said the Knight.

"This is true," the Princess agreed, "but still, it is both what I want, and what I seek." She tilted her head to the side. "Is it not the same for you?"

This only frustrated the Knight. "Yes!" he said. Then: "No!"

He sighed, and tried again. "Some swear fidelity, or loyalty," he explained. "Marriage, treaties, the rule of law. All manner of men and Maiden have sacrificed some portion of their cherished freedom. Can you not do the same?"

The Princess raised a hand to her lips. "More folly from the Knight of fools," she yawned.

Behind his helmet the Knight frowned.