“Is that you my love?” She whispers; squinting in the dim light to make out the figure in her doorway.
“That depends on who your love is.”
A troubled but deep voice responds. She gasps as the figure moves away from the opening of her chamber, into the light exposing his face.
“I-it-it’s You! I thought you were dead!!” She shrieked rising from her chair knocking over the vase. It fell to the floor with a shatter, spilling water all over the wooden floor. The man came closer. She could see him perfectly now. His gleaming blonde hair draped over his shoulders and penetrating gray eyes. Stained and rusted armor poorly protected his body; in his hand he held an enormous sword still red with blood from a battle. In the other he held a battered helmet in which he cast aside on her bed.
“Who gave you that?” He asked with a hint of anger in his voice clutching his sword tighter. She scrambled over to him tripping over her dress, falling to his feet.
“Please, my love, I thought you were dead!” She cried with tears streaming down her face, “He told me you were dead! He lied to me, I didn’t know!”
Hatred shot through his eyes as he ripped her upwards toward him. Clutching her delicate wrists with his strong iron gloves. “Who? Damnit! Who told you I was dead?” He yelled, shaking her a bit. Between her sobs she got out a meek whisper,
“ Y-you-your brother…”
“Damn Him To Hell!!”
To be continued...
