Lady Neera’s Bargain

Once upon a time, in a distant kingdom beyond the river and the trees, there was a princess known for her infectious smile and candid words—quite different from the women at other courts.

As winter faded, she found herself facing a midnight execution. That evening, just like every other night, the king—her father—locked her in her chamber and turned away without a word.

“Princess!” a gruff voice shouted from out of sight, the same one she heard every night.

She rushed to the nearby balcony, shoved open the double doors that stood taller than her, and leaned over the pearlescent edge.

“Sir Kendric!” she exclaimed.

There she stood, grinning wider than any girl in the kingdom ever has, and he was the reason. He stood near the close rose garden, where petals swayed in the chilly breeze, the sweet scent encasing her. Her heart raced, both with excitement and love.

“Are you alright, Princess?” he muffled through his helmet.

“Yes, yes! Come up!” she urged, gesturing toward the hidden stones that only he knew. He was the sole person she had shown the way, the only one she had climbed down to see, prior to all the accusations. Before the word witch became attached to her name.

He was her anchor, the only thing keeping her sane during nights like this.

Sir Kendric readily approached, scaling the protruding stones beside her balcony before he hoisted himself over the ledge.

“Princess…” he whispered in a tone that had given her comfort.

Reaching for his helmet, she smiled as she lifted it off. His blue eyes met hers, soft and filled with admiration.

Her long, dark hair flowed behind her like ink, and her dress fluttered, a more vivid blue than the river where they first met. Her green eyes reminded Kendric of lily pads. Looking into them always forced his smile. They held the embodiment of love and reminded him why he fought. And who he fought for.

“I have something for you,” he said. “Close your eyes, darling.”

She complied, unable to suppress her grin.

From behind him, the knight produced a rare flower—a hidden treasure tucked away in his armor. It was purple from the petals, to the stem, to the leaves that hung off, with a soft center that shimmered brighter than the sun. Legend said this kind only fell from the sky for those deemed worthy by the stars.

“Open them,” he instructed.

She did, her face lighting up in surprise, laughter spilling forth at the sight in his armored hands.

“Kendric, how did you…?” she trailed off in awe.

“You mustn't worry, Princess. Do you like it?”

“I love it! I absolutely love it! Thank you!”

She bounced into his arms, with a disregard of the coldness of his armor that chiller her through her thin royal gown. He pulled her in tight, inhaling the scent of her hair, heart racing. But she didn’t know how heavy his heart rested in his stomach.

“Princess…” he murmured.

She didn’t know the sadness in his heart, the heaviness of it.

“What is it?” she asked, slowly pulling back, but he held her close, knowing it could be their last moment.

“Your execution…” he said.

His eyes, once filled with joy, now glazed over with sorrow. The words burned through her.

The princess turned away, sashaying to her bed draped in rich red silk. She laid down, the knight—big and strong—approached her side with heavy footsteps.

“It’s just a few moments away,” he said, “and I…I can’t protect you from it.”

She recognized the pain in his voice, and, as always, she smiled, even now.

“It’s alright,” she assured.

She reached for his steel hand, wrapping her fingers around it to warm its chill.

“You’ve always protected me,” she murmured. “Even when I didn’t need it.”

Kendric lowered his head.

“I failed you.”

“No.” She rose, letting her thumb trace the outline of his knuckles. “You saw me as I am. You never asked me to be quieter or smaller. Even when everyone else did.”

“Perhaps I should’ve. Because now…now you face execution for it.”

“Kendric…” she warned.

“You deserve more than this kingdom,” he whispered. “More than this torment. This sentence. You deserve to live.”

She smiled once more, the smile that sealed her fate. The smile that scared those around her, all except Kendric.

“I only lived when I was with you.”

Suddenly, a voice boomed from behind the bedroom door. Heavy footsteps followed.

The lovers froze. The knight raised his finger to signal to her to be silent, already aware of who it was.

It was her father. With soldiers, dragging their heavy swords against the gold infused floors that lined the castle.

Kendric’s mind raced; he needed to find a way to save her, any way possible.

The door shook with furious knocks, threatening to fall any second.

“Isadora!” her father roared, jingling keys in hand as he tested several on her door.

In a split second decision, the knight scooped her into his arms and dashed to the balcony. He helped her down first, then jumped after her, escaping the cage that had always confined her once more.

They dashed toward the woods, but the king spotted them from above, his face twisted in rage.

“Retrieve the witch!” he bellowed at his men.

Isadora’s heart fractured. Her own father. If he believed she was a witch, then everyone would too. No one would dare go against him, not even her. Not even Kendric.

“The river!” Kendric shouted, pulling her with him. His armor clinked, a sound that used to be comforting but now echoed like the chains she was held in when the rumor first started.

The woods were deceptively beautiful. Flowers blossomed everywhere. Some poisonous, some sharp, others almost watching the two. But they didn’t stop, they couldn’t, not yet.

They rushed to the familiarity of the water, collapsing by its edge.

Isadora, dirty and breathless, crawled to the riverbank, dipping her hands in. The stillness rippled slightly.

“Princess,” the knight gasped between breaths.

She looked at him, and for the first time, her smile had vanished. The reality of her impending death settled in, piercing her like the thorns that surrounded them.

He knelt beside her, his shaggy black hair falling over his eyes. His armor trembled; he was scared.

Then came the voices.

The soldiers were closing in.

Kendric rose, stripping off a gauntlet. He stepped into the water and drew his sword, its golden hilt shimmering—a blade born of noble blood.

He pressed its tip into the river and glanced back at her, his heart shattered.

“If they think of you a witch,” he declared, “then let us use the old magic of the kingdom to save you.”

Her eyes widened, too exhausted to stop him.

“Lady Neera, hear my call.

Bearer of currents, keeper of tides—

She who weeps with the moon and rages with the storm.

I come with blood on my hands, and love in my heart.

Spare her.

Spare her, though the world curses her.

I offer steel, I offer soul.

Rise from your stillness,

Shatter your silence.

Let the river remember you.”

“Damn you to Hell, Isadora!” her father shouted, lanterns flickering in the trees, their orange glow inching closer.

“Quickly! Grab the sword!” Kendric demanded.

She crawled to it, wrapping her fingers around the blade, slicing her palm. Blood dripped into the river, spreading like wine. The water turned red, churning violently in waves.

“You seek safety for the woman?” a voice echoed from the depths, a woman’s voice.

Kendric nodded. There was no hesitation.

“Yes.”

“Isadora!” the king’s voice drew nearer.

“Please,” the knight begged.

“Kendric,” she whispered.

“Then it is her price that you will pay,” the river woman decided.

Everything fell silent.

Then they screamed.

Agony tore through their bodies as they collapsed, desperately reaching for each other.

Two blue orbs lifted into the air—their souls. His entered hers; hers into his.

They gazed back at their bodies through unrecognizable eyes, and their hearts shattered.

Isadora—now in the knight’s form—yelled for herself to hide. Grabbing the sword, she stumbled behind a tree, watching her own body be taken.

A knight approached her.

“You! Why are you separated from the group?”

She hesitated.

“I thought I spotted something… witchcraft,” she replied in Kendric’s voice.

“Come. It’s nearly midnight. The princess’s execution is nearing more by the passing second.”

She followed, unable to tear her gaze from her own body—now bound in chains, a gag in her mouth silencing her “curses.”

The knights dragged her—him—toward the castle where the entire village had gathered.

They cheered. They spat. They believed it was justice.

She—Isadora—sobbed quietly, blending into the crowd while wearing the armor of her love.

A wooden block awaited her arrival.

One knight stood beside it, unarmored, except for a helm to shade his shame. He held her weapon of destruction with both shaky hands.

She locked eyes with herself, Kendric in her body, just as they laid her down.

The king began to speak.

“Let this be a lesson to all who defy our kingdom’s order—even those of royal blood.

The accused is no longer a daughter. No longer a princess. She is a danger, a disruption.

Mercy is not granted to those who sow disobedience disguised as innocence.

Her fate is not tragedy; it is necessity.”

Isadora watched in horror as her own eyes widened in fear. She wanted to run, to scream, but she was stuck. She couldn’t give herself away.

But, the inevitable happened.

The bell rung midnight.

The king signaled.

Kendric—inside her body—looked up and whispered three words through her voice:

“I love you.”

But she couldn’t respond.

The blade fell.

One swift cut.

Marking the end of their love.

She shattered inside the armor.

She’d never see him again.

So she mouthed the words back, just once, even if he’d never hear.

The crowd erupted in cheers as her head fell to the ground, her body following with a hollow thud she’d never forget.

She never returned to the kingdom after that fateful night, sneaking out one day.

She wept by the river, pleading for him back, but the water remained still. No matter how much she bled for it, it never rose again.

So she stayed, until even her essence withered away.

Yet, they say rumors linger. Whispers of a knight mourning by the river, and a princess who roams the woods in stolen armor.

Once lovers in life—now forever lost to one another in the next.