Chanyeol pulled the fabric of his cloak tighter around himself as the harsh wind threatened to snatch it away, and as he looked up at the night sky he was disappointed to find that he could not see the stars- only a thick blanket of dark gray clouds that allowed minimal light to shine down on the slumbering world below. He dropped his head back down, pulling his legs up to his chest to try and conserve some semblance of warmth in the throes of the cold gale whirling along the empty road. As he shivered in the raggedy black cloak, stained with weeks’ worth of grime and sweat, he thought the weather to be a perfect mirror for his melancholy mood.

Chanyeol still wasn’t quite sure why he had decided to abandon his young lord. He had seen something in Baekhyun then, something vile, that had shaken even his loyal soul. During the entire course of his campaign to wrest control of the peaceful woodland country, Baekhyun had touted Jang-mii's foolishness and naivety, claiming that she was a spoiled princess who would fall for Baekhyun's charms sooner or later. Yet, when he battled Kris in the woods that day, the girl had displayed bravery and grace beyond measure. She spared my life, and he barely seemed to care, he lamented, shivering and curling up tighter against the relentless wind. Chanyeol had given his entire life to Baekhyun; he was born into the role of his knight and guardian, and had devoted every fiber of his being to that mantle. He thought that Baekhyun cared about him.

Chanyeol now realized that Baekhyun only cared about one thing: power.

Perhaps, when it boiled down to it, he had just been sickened by the idea of Baekhyun taking advantage of the woman who had shown him, an enemy and a rude on at that, mercy. Stupid reason to turn yourself into an exile, he thought bitterly and narrowed his eyes. There was no turning back now, however. Chanyeol was a fugitive, an outlaw with a bounty on his head- a bounty proposed by none other than his once-revered prince. Baekhyun had not even hesitated to throw him away. It stung Chanyeol to think that the prince thought him so disposable. As he brooded, the chill wind continued to claw at his close and seep into his bones.

He suddenly jerked when he heard a twig snapping over the muted howling of the rushing air, and his hand flew to the hilt of the sword strapped to his hip. His eyes flashed across the road, looking for the source of the sound; though it could be something as innocent as a rabbit or fox nosing around in the bushes, Chanyeol had crossed swords with bounty hunters far too many times as of late to make such assumptions. The only sound was the continuous of the wind and the leaves shaking in its wake. He was just about to relax when he caught a glint of light flashing in the dark foliage across the road that was the unmistakable flash of moonlight across a blade, and he threw himself to the ground just as a dagger came flying out of the darkness. It embedded itself right where his head had been with a resounding thunk, with enough force to send bark shavings sprinkling down onto him. Growling, he wriggled into a crouch and whipped out his sword. In the minimal light, it barely glowed, its edge shining white as it reflected the pale moon hidden behind the filter of clouds.

“Come and face me like men, you cowards!” he shouted to the scoundrels that he knew were lurking in the shadows just beyond the treeline. Prompted by his challenge, three men shouldered their way through the tangled mess of bushes and brambles to stomp out onto the dusty sand road. They were dressed like thugs, with shoddy trousers and tunics, and red bandanas tied around their heads. Though they were definitely of a lower class, they were no weaklings; they were muscular, tall, and broad, and had obviously put in their fair share of work and toil. Most likely, they were rookie bounty hunters looking to hit it big by reeling Chanyeol in. “Tch,” he muttered, unable to believe his rotten luck. He stood up, swinging his sword. It rang as it cleaved the roiling wind, and despite his irritation, his blood sang with it as he relished the familiar feeling of battle.

“You’re pretty quick,” remarked the man in the lead. Chanyeol narrowed his eyes, standing guardedly on the side of the road as the man pulled another dagger from the sheath on his hip and tossed it around with the expertise of a juggler. “I suppose that is to be expected from the head knight of Prince Baekhyun, though. Did you know that your bounty has been increased?” he grinned at him. A silver tooth glinted at Chanyeol in the lowlight as the man smiled menacingly. The young knight was not impressed.

“I don't care for your banter. Have at me, or go home,” Chanyeol huffed as he dropped into a defensive stance. He had grown tired of the boastful bounty hunters coming to collect, and simply wanted the affair to be over with. The man scowled at him, obviously dissatisfied that he had not been given the opportunity to deliver the speech that would “make Chanyeol quiver in his boots,” and so he angrily barked at his lackeys to seize the disgraced soldier. They darted out from behind their leader, running in a semicircular pattern on Chanyeol's left and right, brandishing small swords at him. As they bore down on him, Chanyeol's feet glided across the grass, carrying him effortlessly out of harm's way. His cloak whirled about his rapidly shifting feet as he spun and parried the oncoming blows, easily deflecting the swords as they hacked at him. The first man he knocked out with one punch to the face, and he crumpled pathetically to the ground with not so much as a whimper. Chanyeol hopped over his unconscious body as his partner continued to viciously jab and slice at him with the smallsword; as he ducked a savage slice, he drove his elbow into the villain's exposed middle, causing him to buckle and drop the blade as his hands flew to his bruised belly. Chanyeol whirled around him, hitting his back with the blunt side of the sword, and the scoundrel scampered away yelping “I yield, I yield!” His boss watched in disgust as he fled, then looked at Chanyeol, who had not even broken a sweat.

“You smug ,” he grumbled as he brandished his knife, advancing on the smaller knight. As the knife flashed in the dark, eager to slice through his flesh, Chanyeol skipped away lightly, eyes narrowed as he struggled to keep up with the smaller weapon in the minimal lighting. The brute grunted as he stabbed and hacked at him, but Chanyeol danced just out of reach, as light as a baby bird’s down on his feet. His cloak billowed in the wind as he suddenly side-stepped the oncoming blow and savagely punched the bigger man in the jaw. As the man reeled, Chanyeol snatched his hand and bent it over backwards, forcing him to drop the knife; then, he kicked him hard in the back of the knee, sending him to the ground.

“You aren't even worth killing,” he spat as the man groaned on the ground, before he whipped around and went marching off down the road, sheathing his sword. His cloak flapped wildly as the wind played with its frayed ends, but Chanyeol no longer felt the cold; the adrenaline-filled blood that was racing through his system had a fire burning in his soul, and that warmth was plenty to stave off the chill of night. As he had done for all the days prior, he ran, melting into the darkness that had been his refuge since his fall from grace; it was his only ally, his only home, his only hope of freedom. Pulling his hood up to cover his face, he looked up at the cloudy sky to find that a glimmer of the moon was visible in a small break in the fluffy grey wall, and it shone down on him like some sort of divine providence, illuminating his bedraggled form in the gloom. He stared up at the pure whiteness mutely, momentarily humbled by its brilliance. Since he had been on the run, he had slowly come to appreciate just how astounding that nature could be. He had seen things in the wilds that he could never describe in words, yet were etched in his memory forevermore: trees taller than giants, rivers of pure, pristine water, flowers of every color imaginable, and creatures that baffled and mystified the imagination.

Baekhyun wants to destroy those things, he remembered with narrowed eyes, watching as the clouds drifted back over the moon and cast him in darkness once more. He brought his gaze back down to the road, staring off into the distance obscured by the haze of night. This road leads to the capital of Jang-mii's country. If I keep following it, I should reach it in mere hours. He knew that Baekhyun was there now, having claimed both Jang-mii and her cursed lover. Really, it was suicide to venture into that lions' den; yet, why was he drawn to it so? Perhaps it was the question that had been nagging at him all this time.

What do I have left without my knighthood?

He had no purpose now. What was a man without purpose? Nothing, that's what. Something inside Chanyeol told him that if he followed that road, he would find a purpose, and that was enough. Determined, he set off down the road again, his steps brisk and purposeful. I know that I will find answers there.

By the time the sprawling city came into view, the night had deepened to the early hours of the morning. The only way he could even tell that it was there was the few flickers or orange-yellow light indicating the torches burning on the turrets of the city's walls, where sleepy soldiers were perched on guard, striding slowly back and forth between the stone structures as they scanned the road for oncoming travelers. As he approached the settlement, he kept his hood raised and ducked off into the tangle of brush lining the road. Though the forest had been cleared around the city, the plains were filled with shrubs and small trees that grew closely together, ample coverage for a lone man to remain unseen if he wished. Crouched low, he crept through the vegetation and shadows, stealing his way to the gate. Despite the late hour, it was still open, with only a pair of guards milling about at the entrance; after all, it was a small, relatively unspectacular country. Who would invade it?

Baekhyun, that's who, he thought with a snort as he hid behind a bush, watching the guard’s movements carefully. One of them sauntered off to retrieve some food from a nearby pub, leaving the other to his guard; when the man's attention was occupied, Chanyeol quickly but silently darted through the gate, sliding through the shadows like a ghost; like a ghost, he remained unnoticed. Once he made it past the guard, he straightened up, free to walk the streets as he wished. At this time of night, no one asked questions to those who roamed in the night; most often, you didn't want to know, and sometimes you would end up dead for your curiosity. Hood still raised, Chanyeol strolled down the main road, which was still very much alive with activity of the unsavory types such as himself.

Raucous laughter and tinny music occasionally drifted on the air as a pub door opened, spilling the boisterous goings-on within. Outside the drinking establishment, inebriated men staggered about still guffawing with each other over some crude Joe or another. Working girls loitered in the alleyways, calling out at the men with their s nearly bursting out of their dresses and their legs lewdly displayed for their viewing pleasure. Here and there, men in hooded cloaks congregated in the gloom, hatching plans in feverish, hushed voices. This is my company, now, he thought bitterly as he stalked past then all, his hands curled in fists. Resorted to consorting with men lacking all honor.

The painful thing was, Chanyeol was now unsure that he had possessed any honor in the first place.

Completely clueless of what he was looking for, Chanyeol allowed his feet to bear them where they would, and found himself at the ornate iron gates of the central castle. This structure was walled as well, but this gate was closed to him; the wall was short, however, giving the ex-knight a clear view of the massive iron cage that contained Baekhyun's loathsome enemy. Chanyeol could see the dragon's back, lined with bone spines and slowly rising and falling as he slept. No doubt, the guard was much more strict here, and likely filled with soldiers of Baekhyun's regiment. Chanyeol began to consider turning back when he caught sight of the tower of the castle that contained the chambers of the princess, clearly outlined against the dark sky. The strange voice began chiming in the back of his mind again, insisting that his answers lie within that tower, and with the princess. With nothing else to pull him forward, he yielded to that voice, and began searching for a suitable place to scale the wall.

During the confusion of the guard change, Chanyeol climbed up the wall, the jagged stones that composed it provided plenty of handholds for him. Before the guards could notice him, he lowered himself over the edge, dropping down and landing soundlessly in the garden below. Crouched down and sticking to the shadows cast by the stone barrier, he snuck around the castle until he reached the tower, and then stole across the garden. He glanced up, the height of the stone structure positively dizzying, to his target: the window dozens of feet above his head, nestled in a cocoon of stone. Steeling his nerve before he could have second thoughts, he began the climb, praying that the dark of night would provide him the coverage that he so desperately needed.

As he picked his way up the stone tower, the wind seemed to take a vengeance on him, blasting all around him with the clear intent to force him off the wall. It made his cloak flap wildly like bats taking off for flight, and he hoped that it would not betray him as he continued to inch his way up. Halfway up, his breathing began to grow ragged, and a thick sheen of perspiration shone on his face that was turned up to the dark sky. Halfway there, Chanyeol. You can do this.

Why was he doing this, though? It was asinine. The girl was most likely going to scream when he suddenly appeared in her bedroom like a common bandit, and he would be put to the gallows by dawn, or beheaded by Baekhyun on the spot. The guard could see him at any minute, too, with the same grisly result. Why, then, would he put so much on the line for such ambiguity? All he had left was his life.

What is a life, though, without something to do with it?

He did not yet know what he would do when he got there, but he had nothing left to go back to. His future lie in that tower's depth, whatever future that might be. His muscles groaning with effort, he continued the ascent with renewed vigor, clearing the second half of the tower in half the time, pulling himself through the small stone window and dropping down onto the carpeted floor. The plush fabric muffled his footfalls as he straightened up and walked into the heart of room. He froze when he caught movement in the corner of his eyes, and he whipped about ready to draw his sword; he relaxed when he realized it was only his reflection in the three-paneled mirror. He slowly walked over to the smooth glass, placing a hand on it as he stared into it’s cool surface; he could not believe how much he had changed in such a short time.

He certainly looked like a bandit. His red hair was now maroon, caked with dirt and grime, and it was a scruffy, untrusted mess. His ragged cloak wrapped around him like a shadow, barely concealing a scuffed, dull plate of armor over a simple white shirt with dirty, ripped pair of trousers with a pair of boots that had seen better says. The only thing that remained of his knighthood was the sword at his hip, shining in its ornate leather sheath. It pained him to the core, seeing how low he had become. Am I even worthy of this sword? He thought as he unbuckled it from his waist and held it up to admire it, the beautiful leather work and the jewel-inlaid hilt. He had pledged loyalty on that sword, but what was he loyal to?

He caught movement in the reflection of the mirror, and shifted his focus to the background; in the mirror, he could clearly see Jang-mii sitting up in her bed, dressed in nothing but a slip, with her black hair cascading around her like she was framed in the night itself. Her blue eyes peered at him in the dark, though not with alarm- but with curiosity.

“I expected you to scream,” he remarked with a small smirk as he lowered the sword, gazing at her through the mirror's reflection.

“I recognized you,” she answered simply. Her gaze was level and as sharp as a knife, poised to strike if necessary. She is not the child that Baekhyun believes, he thought wryly as he held the sword by his side, watching the princess in the smooth glass. “Why are you here?” she demanded.

Why am I here? It was a good question. Still, despite the fact that he had come all this way hoping for an answer, he still did not know. He looked down at the sword in his hand once more. The sword he had used to commit vile acts, all for the sake of a prince who was not worthy of a throne. The sword he had sword loyalty with, yet had nothing to be loyal to.

“I don't know,” he admitted sadly. He knew nothing; everything he had ever known was untrue. His friend cared nothing for him; his prince was a common bully trying to wrestle his was to power through unjust means; his knighthood, the one thing that had sustained him, was a thing of the past. He was surprised when he felt something wet on his cheeks, and he looked up in the mirror to find that he had begun to cry. Somehow, he felt comfortable with that. Jang-mii just continued to watch him, unjudging. “I am lost.”

“So you have come here thinking that you would be found?” He nodded, hearing how ridiculous it sounded; however, Jang-mii smiled softly at him. “I understand. Knighthood is something precious… It must be a difficult thing to lose. Kris' dream was to become a knight, before he became king. ‘It's a man’s most noble dream!’, he used to say,” she chuckled.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted at the mention of the cursed prince. He had played a part in the capture of the scorned king and the advancement of Baekhyun's plans. If only I had realized sooner… How deluded Baekhyun was. She continued to smile gently at him, and it made his heart lurch with gratitude and pain. How was it that this woman could find it within herself to continue to show him mercy? His vile soul was worth nothing. He was her enemy, and a traitor, a turncoat, the lowest of the low. Yet she smiled at him.

“I don’t blame you. Baekhyun would have found us eventually,” she told him dismissively. He released a shaky sigh, tears continuing to roll down his face. It was all so much, the confusion, the sadness, the relief. Perhaps the true reason that he had ventured here was repentance, and validation. “Is your mind at ease now?”

“Yes, My Lady.” He looked down at the sword once more. What am I loyal to? He gripped the sword tightly, having finally found an answer. He turned to face her, jaw set and his eyes a blazing fire. She sat up straight, unsure of what to expect of him; in one smooth motion, he bent down on one knee, bowing his head and holding his sword vertically with the tip resting against the floor. “I do not know what this may be worth coming from someone such as me…” he sighed deeply. “I’ve helped to disrupt your country and was actively involved in a plan to steal your throne. I have killed your people, raided their villages and pillaged their fields, slaughtered their livestock and burned their homes to the ground… By all rights, I should be your enemy. Yet, you show me mercy, princess, and kindness… I have nothing left to be loyal to. Baekhyun is not the man I thought he was, and he does not deserve the mantle of a king… And I fear I cannot save him. So I ask of you, princess- allow me to pledge my sword to you, to serve and protect you, to fight the fights that you cannot, to destroy your enemies and sustain your home and the people within. Let me be your knight.”

The princess listened patiently as he beseeched her, and when he was finished, he still kneeled stiffly on the floor. Would she laugh at him? Would she scorn him? He did not know. All he knew is that this woman had shown him light when he hadn’t even known he had been in darkness, and he wanted to repay the life debt that he owed her. A long silence followed. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his rib cage. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. It beat like a war drum, loud and deep, ringing in his ears with painful clarity. Would he lose this war with obscurity and oblivion.

“Raise your head,” she instructed. He could not tell the emotion in her voice. He tentatively did as bid, anxious, but his worry dissolved when that beautiful, kind smile continued to shine at him and chase the darkness of doubt away. Her hands primly on her lap, with that luscious black hair framing her face and her blue eyes swimming, she regarded him with nothing but respect. Respect. Had he ever been given that from Baekhyun? Now that he thought about it, what he thought was respect was pride- Chanyeol was something that Baekhyun possessed, a weapon to be used and brandished and displayed as a trophy. He found something deep inside him moved, and the tears silently began streaming down his cheeks once more. “I accept. You may rise, Ser Chanyeol.” He dipped his head at her as he slowly did so, his hand resting over his heart; as he stood, the clouds drifted away from the moon again, casting bright moonlight into the room. As he regarded the princess, the light seemed to dance like a crowd upon her brow like a ethereal crown. She is no princess, but a queen, he remarked silently.

“What, then, is your bidding, My Lady?” he asked her quietly.

“Tomorrow morning, a royal caravan will embark for Baekhyun’s country. Kris is set to be executed there, and I am set to wed Baekhyun there. Kris, Lay, and I will see to it that neither of those come to pass. My task to you is to watch over my home until we return. I wouldn’t put it past Baekhyun to stage an attack while the royal family is away,” she explained. Neither would I, he thought in derision towards the prince. “When I return, you will be under my protection. Baekhyun will not be able to touch you,” she assured. He bowed deeply to her, again touched by her level of regality and graciousness.

“It shall be done.” He straightened back up and went to stride back to the window, not eager to be discovered.

“Chanyeol?” He turned back to her, shocked that he had addressed him so suddenly. She still had that smile on her face. “Don’t lose heart. You did the right thing. You have more honor than many of the knights I’ve ever known.” He gawked at her, stunned into silence, before he slowly dipped his head at her and placed his hand on his heart once more.

“Thank you, My Lady,” he murmured before turning back and climbing silently out the window, quickly returning the way he came.

I have my honor. I have my loyalty.

I have my purpose…