thinking about being in the castle library with my princess.
she enjoys reading before bed, losing herself in beautiful poems and escaping to different realities. since she always ends up falling asleep if she does so in her chambers, every night like clockwork, she remains at the library well into the night, after the brick walls themselves had fallen asleep, along with everyone inside them.
as she cannot be left alone at such hour, i accompany her. stay by her side until she feels tired enough to leave, guarding her peace. i watch as her perfectly drawn lips move, no sound daring to slip away. watch smiles and frowns die as quickly as they were born. then, all of a sudden, she looks at me. with a smile tugging at her lips, she asks:
"i do not believe i have ever read any, princess."
"i believe that you would enjoy them. you have the heart for it."
"i am not sure that i do."
"shall we find out then? sit by me and listen."
"please? just one. i find it improbable that some evil force is going to barge in and strike me down in the time it will take me to read you one poem."
so i sit by her side. she takes a deep breath and takes a book in her hands. i recognize the cover, she always finishes her reading time with this particular one. i also recognize the structure of the text on the page she chooses, it is the same one she instantly goes to when opening the book. that is how i know: she is reading me her favorite poem. and just like that, i feel it happening. my mind, usually overcome by steel and blood, is decorated by white flowers, beautiful meadows, the warm sensation of rain touching skin, longing, and the sound of her smile-shaped voice. suddenly, my life is different. i am not a killing tool. i was not raised and molded to inflict nothing but pain. when i cried for the first time the moment i was born, it wasn't an omen for all the blood i would some day spill.
no, i am soft now. my touch is not bound to destruction. i am allowed to be gentle. when i speak, the words leave my mouth with kindness enough to bring wars to their end. i can request rather than command. when i feel the urge to smile, my instinct is not to repress it. i do not curse myself when i am overtaken by the feelings i buried deep into my soul, the ones i swore i would never allow to break past my armor.
so i just sit and watch. the words leaving her mouth, dancing around the barely lit room and transforming me into someone i will never be. someone i wish i was. i feel my heart shrink and sink back down as the end of the poem approaches, her words slowing down. still, a sense of calm embraces me, for i know i will never be able to forget the fact that, even for the briefest of moments, i was someone actually deserving of her love.
