The War of Two Kingdoms was over and I was unlucky enough to find myself on the losing side. Those warriors left alive were being hunted down by the enemy. As head of the King's Guard there would be a significant price on my head. I no longer had a king to serve; he had fallen during the final battle. I had taken my revenge on his killer, but not before being wounded myself. When it was clear that all was lost I began to rush home. It was my duty to protect not only the king but also his family, and so far as I knew, I was the only member of the elite guard still alive. My brief stops in small taverns along the way to hear what people were saying led me to realize I no longer had anyone to protect.

As the king's army was falling, back home so was his castle. A separate force invaded our land and, with the help of traitors within the walls, easily overtook the city. The queen and the princess were captured. It was said that terrible things were done to the queen, things that made me shake with rage when I heard them. As for the princess, the rumor was she had escaped. Using "magic", of all things. It seemed too fantastical to believe, but believing allowed me to not consider the alternative.

There was nothing left for me back home. No family, not even any friends. I was a fugitive. I needed a new beginning, someplace where no one would recognize me. I remembered visiting distant relatives at their family farm in a remote village as a child. It was off the main trade routes and had a small population. I hoped that they would remember me, that they would take me in. I found the old farm when I arrived yesterday, abandoned. The fields overgrown, the small cottage in need of repair. It was perfect. Here I can start a new life, clear some of the fields, plant crops, fix up the house for myself. Here I will be left alone, no one will find me. I need an escape from war. From the things I've seen and done. The things I still see when I close my eyes.

Those things keep me awake tonight, laying on this dusty old cot, absently touching my arm, following the ragged edge of a healing wound. I take a mental inventory of the sounds coming out of the darkness. The rustling of a breeze in the forest behind the cottage. The steps of a small animal in the underbrush, probably a raccoon or skunk. The scratching sound of mice in the attic above me. But one sound is too measured, too careful, to be anything but human. I pull out the knife I hid underneath my cot and get to my feet, stealthily moving to the door. I'm standing just behind it when it begins to creak open and a shadowy figure in a dark cloak creeps inside. With a swiftness learned from experience I slam into the intruder, backing them against the wall with my knife to their throat. Pulling back the hood, the dim moonlight reveals... A girl?

Thanks for reading! I know that turned into quite a long set-up. Who is the mystery woman? I'm open to many interpretations. I'm seeing this as more of a romantic role play, but certainly not set on that. Also, don't be discouraged if you don't think of yourself as a fantasy writer - I don't either. Biggest kink on this one is the ability to tell a story!