Princess Pony 1-2

"I should be there, Nayvell."

Princess Marilinda and her bodyguard, Sir Nayvell, sit in a small room, somewhere deep underground, aways from the castle. A small glowing rock provides illumination, as they rest on simple wooden chairs.

"How do you think I feel, your highness? A knight of the realm, ordered to flee while the lands he has sworn to defend are trampled underfoot by invaders?"

"I know, Nayvell, I know... It's just... We should do something!"

"We are. As long as you live, there can be hope. Once we reach the safehouse, we can flee across the mountains to the Molveggan Mines, and seek succor from the Dwarven Clans. As a royal princess, you may be able to gain an audience, warning them of the empire and perhaps even beseech them for aid. From there, if we head across the mountains to..."

"One step at a time, Nayvell, one step at a time."

Marilinda waved her hand at Sir Nayvell, warding off further discussion of the future.

The two sat together in tense silence.

Marilinda looked at Nayvell. Though of advanced age, he was still an impressive specimen of a man.  His dark brown hair was fading with age and wrinkles were beginning their conquest of his face. Despite that, he still could stand tall and proud, his strength only slightly dimished by age, and more than supplemented by skill and wisdom. After a long and illustrious career serving her father, he became an instructor to the younger knights and squires, earning respect from everyone around him. And now here he was, soon to be, if not already, the last knight of the realm.

Nayvell looked up and caught Marilinda staring at him. She blushed and looked away, mildly embarassed. Marilinda was not much for pompous courtly decorum, as the chainmail and greatsword she wore with practiced ease attested to, but even she had some sense of manners and proper behaviour.

Unknowingly returning the favour, Sir Nayvell looked at Marilinda as she glanced away. Though still young, only recently reaching adulthood, Marilinda was already an impressive specimen of a woman, standing nearly as tall as most men, with a beautiful mane of bright copper-coloured hair. She was well-toned, clearly strong but not lacking in feminity, her strength taking the form of beautiful curves instead of bulging muscles. She grew up enjoying fighting the other boys, and would often sneak away from her courtly instructors to head to the armoury and practice with sword and shield.

The others in the court looked down on her for partaking of such 'unwomanly' pursuits, but Sir Nayvell enjoyed her company, and would often train her when he could. He was surprised to see her growth from a hotheaded girl to a true warrior, favouring a massive greatsword over any other weapon. While her father never forbid her outright from learning how to fight, it was clear he was swayed by the words of his stewards and other lords over how Marilinda should not be engaging in such 'frivolous' activities 'unbecoming of a princess.'

I'm sure learning how to hold a wine glass and look down her nose would help so much now, Nayvell mused as the two sat in silence.

Looking away, Nayvell noted that, while certainly a warrior, Marilinda didn't 'stop' being a princess. Nayvell was not much for courtly intrigue, and hated wearing the clothing of a noble when his armour was inappropriate. Strangely, he saw no such discomfort when Marilinda was dressed in her finest gowns. Indeed, she seemed to bask in the attention her stature would grant her, even as the others whispered behind her back about her 'violent' hobbies.

Nayvell chastised himself for letting his mind wander. There was work to be done, and he needed to remain focused. The secret tunnel extended for several miles, well beyond where the empire's forces were camped. Despite that, they would have to remain on guard, travelling quietly and quickly. Their gear had been stripped of adornments, hopefully allowing them to travel with some anonymity. Who knows where else enemy patrols may be?

Finally, Sir Nayvell stood, adjusting his armour and weapons.

"I believe it is time, milady."

"Are you sure? We aren't in any risk of being followed. The secret passage was collapsed behind us. We should be secure here."

"We want to move while the siege is under way. For if we wait too long, they will realize you are not in the castle, and will tear this country apart looking for you. We need to be as far away as possible when that happens."

"You think they want me that bad?"

"When the demands were made of your father, it was especially emphasised that you would be handed over to the Dread Emperor. I do not know why he seeks to capture you specifically, but I will not let that happen."

"Don't know why he wants me? What, am I too muscular and unladylike?"

Sir Nayvell stammered, "M-my lady, my sincerest apologies. I did not mean to..."

"Oh, relax, Nayvell, I'm just teasing."

"This is no time to be making jokes, milady."

"There is no time better, Nayvell. We both flee from the land of our birth while it is destroyed. My father and your lord will soon die, if he is not dead already. We need a little levity to not lose our minds along with everything else."

Sir Nayvell mused, "As wise as you are strong and beautiful, milady. It is my honour to stand beside you in these dark times."

"Ease off the worship, Nayvell. The both of us are going to have to play it smart and work together to get out of here alive."