I see you at sunrise, the trumpets signal your return. Townsfolk line the streets and petals mark your path, thrown in reverence to our most holy protectors, the vanquishers of evil. Your smile is a beacon as children rush to your side, parents shed their tears as their young ones meet their hero. The legion parades to the castle with you at its head, roses in your arms and stray petals in your hair yet your grace is unmatched and your eyes shine like your armor. There is to be a feast in honor of your safe return. In the mornings you train, your stance sure and steady and your gaze unwavering, what is it that you see in those straw targets? Sometimes there is a flicker of emotion that cracks your demeanor but it is gone in an instant and I ask myself if it really was there or if I struggle to find a blemish in your perfection.
I envy you and how simple a life you must lead. My strength has never been physical but how easy it must be to simply cut down your foes. The war does not phase you nor does it ever wipe that smile off your face and I envy how easily it is for you to connect to people, how easy it is to love and for them to love you in return. You are a paladin of the people through and through. “The sun shines down upon her” “She is blessed by the gods” I hear them say as you leave yet again. They wish you well, that your aim be true, that your armor never cracks, that your draw is swift and yet in spite of all their blessings I cannot help but be reminded of that day.
I blame you for her death; even at a young age your reflexes were unmatched, why did they fail you then? All you could do was watch in horror as the servant struck down or mother the Queen and only when all was said and done did you spring into action, filled with a rage I had never seen. You were right at her side; how could you not move! She is dead because of your hesitation and I fear what will happen if you hesitate again. Our mum if now Queen and you have the audacity to leave her too? Is the thought of glory more important than your own mother?
But I digress, no one could ask you to step down. Idreil: Warrior of Light, the people need your purity.
I know what you think of me, I am gracious, honorable, and pure. Not even the corruption of war could taint my being but how wrong you are dear sister. I follow orders, those of which will never touch the ears of our townsfolk. Heinous acts all in the name of our Queen. I have the weight of the world on my shoulders knowing not all of our soldiers will come back, that I lead many to early deaths. Some are blinded by my title, as though if they fight under me, they are graced by the gods yet even I wonder if they exist for if they do why is this allowed to go on?
You have no idea what I do to ease the Queens burdens. I have never been diplomatic but what is settled in court falls to me so our mother can rest easy. I kill in the name of our Queen, I raze villages only presumed to be in alliance with our enemy and I weep every night because I was there, I remember the sounds, the sights, the smells. They call me a warrior of light and yet I see only darkness, sometimes I feel as though I’m a hound, simply following the commands of my master with blind obedience. That is how it must be but not for the people. Every march back home I think of back then, back when we were whole and I put on a smile for the children, kind words to the parents, and a strong embrace for those whose children or loved ones never made it back.
I think of us when I see them, how we used to be as we played in Mother’s gardens, not a care in the world. And in those instances, …
I miss you.