A Dame of Glory

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess. Her silky hair was always braided with ribbons of all sorts of colors. The entire kingdom looked at her for advice, she was a beacon of hope, she was inspirational and loved by all. And lucky enough to be right by her side was her personal knight, Sir Dante. 

Sir Dante was personally hired by the king to wait on and to protect his daughter. Sir Dante talked only to her. He rarely slept or ate, then when he did do so, he did it in private. The Princess had seen his face only when they were younger, about thirteen. And though she had only seen his face a few times then, she remembers his freckles, long eyelashes, and beautiful dark eyes. She remembered his voice was high, it still was. She wonders when his voice will finally drop like all the other boys’, she wonders how different it will make him sound. She hopes that once puberty hits him, the other knights will respect him more, he deserves it.

The knights don’t think of Sir Dante as manly. He is particularly sensitive, a trait seen far too feminine to be a war leader. But the princess likes his sensitive side, she always knows how he feels and what he’s thinking. He’s a very open man, and she is a woman who can’t read emotions easily. 

When Sir Dante sat at the knights’ dining table, he did not take off his helmet to eat like all the other knights. Instead, he put the knight’s nightly meal into a Ziploc bag, a weapon that wouldn’t be introduced to any other kingdom for another 350 years. 

“Sir Dante,” Sir Chad asked, biting his lip and rubbing chin, “Why dost thou never eat in front of us?”

Sir Dante shrugged.

“Oi!” Sir Kaiden-Jaden-Aiden-Braden said, “Tell us about the princess? What’s she like?”

Sir Dante cleared his throat. There was so much to say about The Princess, he could talk about her for days. How she messed with the tool on all her dresses, how she’d pick the color blue over anything else, how she’d wake up early just to see the deer roam freely while everyone else was asleep. He could talk about the infinite things that made him fall in love with her, he just didn’t know how to say it, not to these scoundrels at least. He didn’t want the other knights knowing he had a crush on her, he would lose his job. Still, he wanted to express how great The Princess is.  “She’s… Clever. She’d make an excellent queen,” he murmured. 

“Aye, but what does she look like?” Sir Chad asked. “You’re closer to her than anyone! How tall would you say she is? Is she naturally blonde? What’s her actual name? Come to think of it, I’ve only ever heard her referred to as The Princess.”

Barely a whisper: “The?”

“What?” 

Sir Dante spoke a little louder. “Her name is The.”

Sir Chad looked confused. He always looked confused. “Does that mean her last name is Princess?”

Sir Dante nodded. 

“So our King’s name is… King Princess?”

Sir Kaiden-Jaden-Aiden-Braden rolled his eyes. “Honestly Chad, I can’t believe you don’t even know the names of our monarchy.” He laughed but it died when no one else laughed with him. 

Chad spoke again, still puzzled. “So when she becomes queen, her title will be Queen Princess?”

“No, that’s the current queen’s title, who was tragically born without a first name. She will be Queen The Princess.”

The two went on with their fairly stupid questions, and Sir Dante left, holding his plastic bag of mashed potatoes. He would meet The Princess in her tower. They never dined together, she always dined on fanciful food privately with her family. He sat on her plump bed, filled with as many feathers as a mattress could hold. It sank under his heavy, armored weight, causing his armor to bend uncomfortably at the knees. Oh, whatever, Sir Dante thought, as he began taking off his hulking, steel boots. He opened up his bag of mashed potatoes before realizing he had forgotten to bring any utensils. 

No problem, The Princess probably has some sort of spoon in her bedroom here. I’ll just find and use that. 

He began searching her room, looking on tables and dressers before starting to search the drawers. As he walked around her room, he noted how much better it felt to walk barefoot. The boots were too big for his feet, they would slide around and create terrible blisters. It felt so nice to have his feet flat on the cold, stone floor.

The princess walked in on him when he was searching in her closet. “Sir Dante!” She gasped, “What art thou doing in my wardrobe?”

Sir Dante quickly spun, surprised. It hurt him a bit to see her face. “What is this?” he asked, pulling out a large, white veil from her racks.

Her eyes went wide. “I didn’t want to tell you.” The Princess looked down, “My father is having me married next month.”

Sir Dante was glad The Princess couldn’t see his face under his helmet. It was becoming red, he started to cry. It felt like his heart was broken. He wasn’t mad, there wasn’t an ounce of anger in him, he just… ached. Ached. Everything was sore, everything felt tired. He set the veil back in the closet and closed the doors. He looked down at his clenched toes. He did not wear socks, because socks had not been invented yet. If they were invented, Sir Dante didn’t know that, so he didn’t own a pair. 

The Princess sometimes hated Sir Dante’s helmet. She learned that she couldn’t make everybody happy since the day she was born, but she had to make Dante content at least. She wanted to know how he felt. She hoped he felt… she didn’t know. She didn’t want him to be sad, she’d never want to see him anything but happy. But she also hoped he wasn’t glad she was getting married. It was all very confusing, she wanted him to take the lead. Should they celebrate? Should they cry? What’s the plan? There’s no plan, she needs a plan, she can’t function. 

“I never do this,” The Princess started, “But let me see your face.”

Sir Dante stared. He shook his head.

“It wasn’t a request. As your princess, I command you. Take off your helmet.” He lifted the visor, showing his round, freckly face, which was now red from crying. “The whole helmet.”

Dante sighed as he began lifting the helmet over his head. Long, straight, and thin, dark brown hair was held loosely, tied behind the head. Dante was thin, without a jawline or cheekbones. Eyes wide and lips plump. She was a girl and she was ashamed. The princess was, however, not angry, maybe shocked, she was… Dante wasn’t sure. The princess never showed emotions and it was incredibly frustrating. Neither of them spoke. Dante closed her eyes and shook her head, crying some more. A voice told her that it wasn’t the end of the world and that everything that was happening was bound to happen at some point. Her helmet fell from her hands and clanged against the stone floors as her hands went to her face. How could she be getting married?

It broke The Princess’s heart to see her best friend cry. She hadn’t seen his eyes clearly in years, she’d never seen his hair. Her hair? Her eyes? Helmet off, hair visible, and eyes were filled with tears. The Princess dreamed of the moment where Dante would be stripped of his uniform in front of her, she wanted so desperately to see what he (she?) looked like, but whenever she imagined it happening, Dante was not crying. Everything was wrong.

“Dante-” The Princess started to say, but the loud stomping of people coming up the stairs to her tower. Dante pulled her into the closet with the wedding veil, it was dark and cramped. Dante’s chest plate was taking up most of the room.

The people made it into the tower. “Sir Dante?” a raspy voice said, The King. He picked up the helmet off the ground, then stared at the boots by The Princess’s bed. “Where is Sir Dante?” He raised his voice. “Where is my daughter? Find Her!” 

People, knights, went back down the stairs. The King lingered. “How did she know? Where is my daughter?” He whispered, before following the knights. 

A few moments after everyone was gone and the awkward silence returned, the girls walked out of the closet, Dante took off her gloves and breastplate, now just in her underclothes. She tried to find her helmet, but it wasn’t there; The King must have taken it. Neither one of them wanted to be the one to talk first. But unlike Dante, The Princess couldn’t stand in silence. “Is Dante your real name?” she asked. 

This was not the question Dante expected to hear. Taken aback, “Yes.”

The princess nodded, still poker-faced. A beat before saying, hearty, “Why?”

“I didn’t choose my name, Princess. It was the one I was given at birth. I never bothered asking my parents-”

“No. Dante, why would you lie to me about this? Why wouldn’t you tell me who you are?”

The tears came back. “I couldn’t. Your father hired me because I wasn’t a man, he didn’t want any men near you. But if word got out that I was a woman, scandals and accusations would be crazily created. People would begin to think The King, your father, is a fool.”

“But why couldn’t you tell me?”

“Your father wanted to make sure you felt protected. By the time we had a bond made, I didn’t know how I could have said it.”

The princess swore, she had a sailor’s tongue. Her face started to get red, a small vein on her forehead visible as she boiled. Dante knew what would happen next, she would go off, yelling, crazy hand gestures, she’d say things that Dante hoped were just slips. But first, she’d have to catch her breath, figure out what she was going to say, block off the emotional part of her brain so she didn’t end up crying during her speel. And Dante would take it. She would listen to everything she had to say, however hard it was. She wouldn’t interrupt, she wouldn’t try to defend herself. She couldn’t. Dante knew that The Princess was right, she knew that everything she would say would be true, she knew that arguing would just make their fight worse, and she was going to do everything in her power to make sure they stayed friends. Even if she was going to become a wife. 

“You are a woman,” The Princess said slowly. She had this ability to talk hesitantly while still sounding sure and confident. “You have been by my side since we were twelve. You have the greatest swordsmanship of all my father’s knights. You are an ass, I have thought of you as a dick this entire time, which I now see as a bit ironic. But right now, I wish you were a man so I could put some reason into your absolute stupidity. 

“I have confided in you, I have trusted you, and you have ruined this all. Do you have any idea how broken I feel right now, Dante? Do you understand the drastic of this situation? You act standoffish, I act suave, but I am hurt. I just- I can’t fathom how you could lie to me for all these 5 years, how you could have lied to me at all. I’ve never lied to you. I’ve never kept a secret from you in my life!” She realized what she said there. “Except for the marriage thing, I did keep that a secret. My bad.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. She got stressed easily, and whenever she was stressed she got terrible migraines. Dante worried about her because of that sometimes; there really is no job more stressful than being the queen. 

The Princess glared at Dante. “Well, are you going to say anything?”

Dante cleared her throat, her voice was always too quiet. “I’m so sorry, Princess. I- I can’t explain anything. There’s no excuse. I just- Please tell me if I can make things better. Let me know what I must do.” She hung her head in shame, it was hard to look The Princess in her eyes, not because of her power or authority, but because Dante was terrified there would be tears in her eyes. If she made her cry, she had lost all respect, she had done the impossible, she had to be the villain. 

“I’m sorry,” Dante said. 

“You should be.”

An arrow zipped through The Princess’s comically small window, whoever shot it must have had a great aim. It hit the floor, Dante noticed there was a piece of paper wrapped around the body. She unraveled it. 

Run.

“Princess, come with me. We have to go. Now.”

“Why? Because a paper says so? You’re going to listen to a slip of nothing instead of me? You are unbelievable.”

“I’m not taking any risks, Princess. The other knights were just up here, and now we have personally got some sort of warning. We’re going, this isn’t debatable.”

“It’s probably just a prank.”

“It’s not a prank, this is fantasy-medieval times. There’s no such thing as pranks.”

“Who are you to decide whether or not pranks exist?”

“Oh my God,” Dante muttered and rolled her eyes before picking up the Princess and carrying her down the tower. The Princess wasn’t expecting to be taken, she grasped at Dante’s neck, causing the rest of her hair to fall down. Her hair was long, so soft, so thin. The Princess grabbed a handful of it near her neck. Something about Dante being a woman made her strength that more incredible. They were the same size, Dante was a little taller, but she held her like she was a stuffed toy. Dante was barefoot, without armor, without disguise but carried her out of the tower, running as fast as she could. The castle grounds were messy, there were few people out, only women--maids and nurses--who ran frantically, each on their own mission. The girls didn’t know what was going on, they just ran out of the castle grounds. Into the town square, which was wet with chaos. 

All doors were shut tightly just to be banged against by someone who wanted in. All the horses on the street were abandoned and stirred, all the animals were stressed, scared, and angry. Torches that lit up the streetway were put out, making everything dark. The few torches that remained were grabbed by men who went sprinting down the street with their weapons, swords, knives, one man was holding a pot. Dante carried The Princess through a small alley between two crooked, poor-conditioned buildings, into the woods. She kept going until she tripped over a large rock. It hit her toenail, which was now definitely bruised and bleeding. She held The Princess closer to her body as they both fell. Her arm acted like a cushion for her. Her elbow had been cut up from falling on it but she didn’t care because The Princess wasn’t injured. 

The Princess sat up, Dante followed. “What’s happening, Dante?” she asked. 

“I don’t know. Nothing good.”

“Who shot the arrow?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was this why my father was looking for me?”

“I’d guess.”

The Princess huffed, folded her arms, and tried to steady her breathing. “You’re an idiot, Dante.” She spat.

“I know. But we’re far enough in the woods now that we are well hidden. You stay here, I’ll go see what’s going on.”

The Princess grabbed the knight’s arm. “Absolutely not. You’re not just going to leave me!”

“It’s the safest way-”

“No! You can’t leave me! You can’t just let me be taken, you have to stay. And I- I have to stay with you.”

Dante looked deeply into the princess’s eyes. She wasn’t just talking about this moment. 

“You have to understand,” She spoke so quietly and it was so cold, but they were close enough that neither one of those things mattered, “This isn’t just about us. This is for the kingdom, and it’s my duty to go.”

“I forbid you.”

“Your father-”

“Dante. I forbid you. Stay.”

Dante relaxed her shoulders, slouching forward some. She needed to argue, she needed to show The Princess how much she needed to leave, why they couldn’t stay together, but she just couldn’t. It’s hard to argue for something you don’t want nor believe in. 

The Princess cupped her face. “Dante?”

She looked into her eyes. They were blue, she’d noticed it before but it was still somehow surprising. “I’m staying,” Dante said. And The Princess kissed her, unaware completely of the implications, of what the kiss meant, of what she was even doing. But when Dante started kissing back, she knew she wanted it, she knew she liked kissing her. The Princess kissed like the beginning of a sweet story, Dante kissed like the ending of a tragedy. Put together, it was not the most romantic of kisses, it was messy and