Once

I was once nine and ran though empty corridors, wooden sword clutched in my hand, sprinting after a girl with long brown hair who moved like the air. The castle filled with our laugher and screams of fright. My days were spent in the sun and my evenings on my fathers lap, attempting to get a word of praise or the promise of a new sparring lesson. Life was simple and sweet.

I was once thirteen and loud, my arms thrown over the shoulders of friends as we strutted to the dining hall after practise, we talked of new books and lessons and the thought of a trip into the town after classes. We boast about who is getting amour fitted and who won last time there was a race. The air girl sat on a golden throne, a tiara set with diamonds on her head, I bowed when she walked past, never looked her in the eyes, there is only sadness there.

I was once fifteen, excited at my father coming home from a war that seemed to have sprung up out of no where, he was on the front lines as a good leader should be. He arrived home with bandages running up his arms and a new haunted look in his eyes, he did not greet me, nor speak at all and when he finally slept I was woken by the sounds of screaming. Yells of names I did not know, screams to run, to hide. The next day I went with him to the grand hall where he bowed to the golden thrones. I found the air girl afterwards and we spoke after years.

I was once sixteen and scared of what was to come, my dream since I was a child that was once bathed in a golden glow was tarnished and battered.To be a knight was an honor, given to only the best, I did not know what had happened to me. I talked to air girl, her hair fell like a curtain around her head as if to attempt to conceal her away, I tried to not let it. She talked to me as well, of life and death and towers and war. She was different, we did not talk of strategies or fights as I had with other friends but instead of magic and history and rebellion. We talked of the sky and art and the world beyond our kingdom. For the first time the castle walls that had always protected me seemed suffocating.

I was once seventeen and in front of my fathers grave. Killed in battle, given a hero's burial, died for his country. I tried to believe it. I put my head down and grieved silently, did what was expected of me. The air girl offers her sympathy, I nod.

I was once eighteen and in my fathers place, an advisor, a knight, a trusted member of the council. I rode to war with my head held high and a sword hung heavy at my side. I had no time for talks of beauty or thoughts of other things. My father was easier to understand now, I did not talk when I did not have to. The clash of steel and sting of smoke from a battlefield were as familiar as a lullaby, and sometimes air girl woke me when I was at home in the middle of the night, her dark eyes wide with panic. She did not stay over most nights though, her parents would notice, so I did not worry about spoiling her sleep to much. When she was over I did not sleep.

I was once nineteen and planned to escape. Air girl and me, away. From the needless war and destruction. Away from the suffocating walls and old men who decided our fates for us. We planned to go to a cottage far far away made of brick and vines owned by my mother. Away from the heavy golden crowns and lists of death. Away from the memories and people who knew us. To where we could run and laugh and yell as much as we wanted.

We should have know we would not be that lucky.

I was woken up to screams of the wounded and the crash of swords. I ran outside with only a sword and shoes. The ground was filled with red, the sky smoky. I had to get to air girl. I took the passage she used to sneak out and sprinted like a child again. Running up

up up

to the top of her tower. Air girl, standing on the edge in a white nightgown, a man behind her, sword to her stomach. She looked at me for a moment, our eyes locked, but before I could run forward, grab her, do anything, she fell. I remember screaming as she went

down

down

down.

And I remember thinking as she fell that at least that is how she would want to die, arms reaching for the stars, one with the air again.

And as I screamed and screamed and screamed in agony and pain because she was gone a crippling slice ran though me, a sword, dripping with blood, impelling me through the stomach, I let out one more breathless scream and slumped to the ground as black began to fill my vision. And as I fell into unconscious I smiled, perhaps I would get to see her again.

The castle looks a lot different now, ivy has slithered into every crack and credence on the stone walls. The tower looks on the verge of falling, like play bricks stacked on top of each other. I see air girl sometimes, she dances on top of the ruins and runs in those long gone corridors, no crown pulls her down to earth and no walls hide the world though now. She is the whisper in the breeze and the stars that twinkle in the darkness. The moon smiles on her. She is air. She is free.