“You don't understand!” The young soldier raised his hands and took a step back from the beautiful woman brandishing a candelabra at him. “This is a rescue! I'm rescuing you!”

“Rescuing me!” she echoed, tightening her grip on her makeshift weapon. “You and the rest of those hooligans—”

“The knights of King Russet,” he told her.

“—broke into our home—” she continued.

“Infiltrated the Iron-Walled Fortress in the heart of the Valley of Blood,” he corrected.

Her eyes flicked to the door behind him. “—killed our servants—”

“The minions left on guard duty, you mean.”

“—and now you mean to take me from my husband?!”

The young man smiled, happy to at last have some kind of understanding. “Yes! Exactly right. You don't have to be subjugated by that monster anymore!”

She gaped at him. “Monster?! You must surely be mistaken! My husband is a darling man and a poet!”

The soldier tilted his head, his face twisting into an utterly confounded expression. “I—wha—a poet?” he sputtered, then shook his head. “I'm sorry, but this is the Iron-Walled Fortress, correct?”

She sniffed. “I don't see what my husband's choice in building materials has to do with anything,” she said.

“And we are in the Valley of Blood, correct? East of the Dragons' Teeth Mountains?” the soldier confirmed.

“They do look so beautiful when the sun sets,” the woman reminisced, lowering the candelabra slightly.

“And your husband is the Bear-Rider from the Land of Thorns, Archer and Son of Archers, Swordsman and Son of Swordsmen, Conqueror and Son of Conquerors, Destroyer of Castles, Defiler of Temples, Scourge of Empires and Maker of Widows?”

The woman shrugged. “We just call him Peaches.”

For a long time, the soldier stared at her. “Peaches?” he said at last.

“Well, it's his given name,” she told him, matter-of-factly.

“...Peaches?!” he echoed.

“It rather suits him, really.”

He was silent again for another long moment. Finally, he took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out again. “All right, I think I see what's going on, here,” he said. “I've heard about this kind of thing. Let me guess: when he first brought you here, you were terrified of him; but over time, your fear twisted your mind until you began to see him as your only friend. Am I correct?”

The woman frowned. “Well, every new bride is a little nervous,” she conceded, “but I wouldn't call it terror, and I certainly have more friends than just my husband!”

He sighed. “Try to let your mind become unclouded,” he pleaded. “Try to see that we've only come to free you!”

All at once, the woman's eyes lit up. She dropped the candelabra she'd held, and it hit the floor with a clatter. “Oh, thank the heavens!”

The soldier smiled. This was much more like it! He began to stride toward her, only to stop with one foot in the air when someone noisily cleared a throat behind him.

He froze. Perhaps, if he simply didn't turn around—unfortunately, that thought couldn't even be completed before a heavy hand clapped down onto his shoulder and spun him to face the massive figure who had just entered the room.

For a fleeting moment, the young soldier glimpsed the fire raging in the newcomer's eyes, until the mountain-in-the-shape-of-a-man glanced up at the woman behind them and smoothed his expression into something more bland. “Let us settle this outside, shall we?” he said, and with one hand, lifted the soldier by the neck and whisked him out of the room before the young man could even think of a reply.

While they were gone, the woman bent to pick up the candelabra that had fallen. She returned it to its rightful place, adjusting its position a few times, then went to the mirror. With a huff of annoyance, she tried to fix her hair. Her husband returned just as she pinned the long strands in place with the comb.

She ran to him.

“Are you all right, my fair summer blossom?” he whispered, gathering her into his arms.

“Oh, darling!” She buried her face against his broad chest, ignoring the acrid smells that tended to cling to him whenever he returned from his trips. “I'm not hurt or anything, but it was so frightening! Why must you leave for so long?!”

He rubbed her back. “Rest easy, sweetest dove. I'm home now. The intruders are gone and will never bother you again.” His hand left her back and came to her chin, tilting her head up to look at him. “Let's go out and forget this nightmare, shall we? I'll bring my lute, and we can picnic by that little brook in the meadow where the sunflowers grow.”

She sighed contentedly. “Oh, Peaches, you're wonderful!”

And all who lived, lived happily ever after.

The End


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