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If anyone has another good place I can get prompts let me know, I’ve been going through my drafts and it’s all writing-prompt-s because it’s all from like, years ago.
Based on @writing-prompt-s prompt, the original or which seems to have vanished
You are the local village inn keeper, and one night the Princess of the kingdom comes in and asks for a job at the inn.
Now it wasn’t that no one recognized the girl for what she was, but this was a small inn, in a small village, on the very edges of the kingdom. When the princess walks in wearing a dress that was clearly meant to hide her but is just as clearly worth more than every building in the village combined it only makes sense to say yes. So I did. I showed her how to peel potatoes and found her clothes that were more comfortable and worth less and pretended not to notice that she’d clearly never so much as dressed herself before. It was the smallest of the things I pretended not to notice about her.
I grew up the daughter of an innkeeper in a small inn of a small village on the edge of the kingdom. It was a busier life than you might think. We fed and housed anyone going and coming from the boarder. Soldiers and knights, caravans and merchants, even most delegations stopped here. The princess had also been here twice before she showed up at my door in the middle of a storm asking for a job. She called herself by a new name and I let her think I didn’t recognize her.
————
The first time I met the princess we were so young it would make sense if neither of us remembered it. My father had made sure my brother and I were scrubbed completely clean and made us work in our fancy clothes, the ones we only wore when we went to visit mama’s family in the city. I was maybe six summers old but big enough to help. My jobs were small but many, any number of small household chores fell under my purview. Plus the overseeing of our youngest guests. You’d be amazed how many people brought their small children to the boarder with them when they got assigned there. On that day though there were no small children in the inn. No children at all in fact. The village children were kept well away from the king, his soldiers, and the guards. Even most of our regular guests didn’t come for dinner. Just Old Alec who used to be an adventurer, but he lives at the inn so I didn’t think he counted.
The king was the first person through the inn doors. Even at six I thought that odd. That he was so sure of himself he didn’t even send a guard in first. I saw Old Alec roll his eyes into his tankard. Then the inn filled suddenly, as though the king had been the stopper to a flood. In my very best clothes I ran between legs serving tankards and pints of ale, soups and stews and racks of our finest meats. My brother, three years my elder, moved between the tables with more grace, nodding and smiling as he took orders and delivered same as me.
Then, at the end of the tidal wave of soldiers and knights, I saw her. A girl maybe half my size, though she looked to have as many summers, small and pale and flanked by three female knights. Notable simply because there were no male knights or guards for her, just those three. As the night wore on I noted that only the other women among the other knights and guards approached the table. Though they didn’t turn away my brother or father when they came to check on them.
The princess ate with poise, dropping not a single drip onto her beautiful golden gown. Despite her poise and the money and time that had clearly gone into her outfit and hair, I remember thinking she looked tired. I found out why later that night.
The king and his people, not just knights and soldiers but also clerks, servants of all stripes, and at least half a dozen minor nobles, took up every single room in the inn. Including my father’s, my brother’s, and mine. My brother opted to sleep in the barn since the night was warm, my father dozed behind the bar in case anyone needed something in the night. I had chosen the kitchen. There was a spot beside the fire place that stayed warm and my bedding made a lovely little nest.
A noise woke me, in the hours of the night where it’s either incredibly early or incredibly late. I found myself instantly annoyed, even with only six summers, because I’d have to be up in only a few hours. Then I heard the noise again. A quiet and immediately cut off whimper. I lifted my head from my nest and found myself staring. The princess, in a nightgown that just barely brushed the tops of her feet, embroidered in silvers and golds that must have cost a fortune just to put a few swirls and drops along the hem of something no one was ever supposed to see, was barefoot, staring around the room with wide eyes. She hadn’t seen me yet, so I took a moment to watch. Her eyes had the tight wideness of a prey animal looking for somewhere to hide.
“Princess.” The word was more of a hiss, and it came from outside. I blinked, quickly sorting through the voices I’d learned. One of the servants I thought, but couldn’t place which one. The princess jumped and put a hand over her mouth. Her eyes scanning the room again, this time falling on my pile of bedding in the corner. Then on me. The voice came again from outside, more irritated this time but still quiet. I knew the sound of someone who was going to be furious when they found her. As her eyes locked on mine I acted, entirely on instinct, same as I would for any of the girls in the village. I lifted the blanket. She flew across the room, faster than I’d thought that she would be, nearly knocking the air out of me as she launched herself into my chest. I was once again struck by how small she was, barely a slip of a girl. I could feel every rib as I wrapped my arm around her. She was trembling.
There was a creak by the back door and I tucked her behind me and under my bedding. Then I lay atop her, trying not to crush her while pretending to sleep. I pulled the blankets back over me just as the door swung open. I heard footsteps padding around for several minutes before they approached. Then the blanket was whipped back. I sat up, blinking blearily up at the servant.
“Pa?” I blinked several times, trying to appear sleep addled, looking towards the window first, then at them. “It’s not light yet, oh, you’re not my pa. I can fetch him if you need?”
The servant appeared first baffled, then their brows pinched together as I began to stand.
“No need, no need.” They shook their head rapidly. “Sorry to disturb you lass. I was searching, well it’s not here, my apologies.”
“Very good ma’am.” I nodded and settled back into my bedding, my back pressing into the bundle that the the princess curled under. I could feel her warmth against my back. “May I have my blanket back?”
“Yes of course.” The servant nodded, handing it back and heading towards the door, muttering to herself. “I could have sworn, but surely not…”
Only once the door was closed and I could no longer hear steps did I get up, stepping on the stool to peer out the window. The little garden behind the inn was empty, the goat asleep in a way he wouldn’t have been if someone were near. I padded back to my bedding.
“They’re gone.” I said quietly. The princess poked her head up out of my blankets. The two simple braids her golden hair was tamed into were barely mussed despite her hiding space. I wondered idly if it was a magic she held. To always look beautiful. “Why are you hiding?”
“I’m running away.” Her chin jutted out when she said it and I had to hide a smile. The whole thing struck me as incredibly funny. Here I’d been scrubbed raw and worked in my nicest clothes just because her dad existed in our space, everything they’d requested we’d found, bartered, and bargained for to provide for them. Yet she was going to run away, in bare feet no less.
“Why?” I managed to croak it out without letting laughter tumble after it.
“I don’t get to do anything but sit and sew and learn my manners and people are Looking at me all the time and I’m hungry and I want to eat sweets.” She crossed her arms and slumped back into pillows.
“Sewings useful though.” I held up the hem of my own nightgown, patched together by the seamstress when I tore it last in exchange for a bucket of goats milk.
“Not the way I have to do it.” Her frown deepened.
“Well, I can’t do nothing bout most of that.” I stood up and dusted off my nightgown, another peek out the window confirmed my guess that the sun was creeping close. The grey of predawn hung over the yard. I skipped back and held a hand down to her. “But I do have an idea about sweets.”
Her frown didn’t lessen but she unpretzeled herself and took my hand. I pulled her up entirely too easily. I wrapped her in my cloak and put my best, warmest boots on her. I tucked my own feet back into my good shoes, even though they were a little too small, and pulled her out the back door. The goat looked up immediately and I tossed him a carrot, he caught it and watched us go without sounding the alarm. He was used to my wanders, most folk in town were. The path to the bakery was short as long as I cut through the seamstress’ yard but it was easy enough to climb the fence and pull the princess up behind me.
The baker didn’t even look surprised when I knocked on her door. She just sighed and let us in.
“I suppose your new friend is the reason the guards are crawling the streets looking all kinds of stressed before the sun is even up then?” Her hands went to her hips and my eyes hit the ground.
“She wanted sweets, you’re the best at sweets.”
“The guards?” The princess squeaked behind me.
“Well let me look at you then.” The baker moved me aside and crouched to look the princess in the face. “You’re such a little thing.”
“My deepest apologies mistress. This was a foolish idea.” The princess’ voice was suddenly very formal and her back straightened as I turned to look at her. “I didn’t want anyone to trouble themselves.”
“My dear you are the only royal child, of course your father’s people will trouble themselves if you’re missing.” The baker said, not unkindly, and ruffled the princess’ hair. “That doesn’t mean I can’t send the two of you back with some sticky buns though.”
I grinned even as the princess turned thoughtful. We ate the sticky buns on the walk back through the yards, I gave her most of mine before we even hit the fence and we washed our hands in the goat’s trough. Sneaking back in was easy enough, the cook was so busy preparing breakfast she didn’t even look over when she heard my voice, just barked out orders. I said father had told me to put my best clothes on again and she sighed back waved me off. I dragged the princess up the servants stair and let her into her room with the master key.
The servant from last night was nowhere to be found, a different and younger servant paced the room. She turned and let out a sigh of relief when she saw the barefooted princess. Then she pointed under the bed with a wink, waved me away, and then opened and closed the door loud enough to draw attention.
Laughter reverberated down through the whole inn when the princess was found sleeping soundly under her bed. The king offered formal apologies for worrying the town with the guards search when they clearly couldn’t even look through a room properly. Despite the laughter and the apology I noted that when they left one of the knights always had a hand on the princess.
————-
Years passed and the memories grew worn around the edges as more and more were made. I learned, alongside my brother, to shoot a bow and wield a spear, being a boarder town we all learned young. The whispers along the road were that war was coming. They were whispers that brought shadows to Old Alec’s eyes and sorrow to others, or something like it.
I had ten summers under my belt the first time the army came through looking for promising young recruits. The whispers of war had grown ever louder. Now there were talks of treaties and allies and knights and soldiers both rode for the boarders. Many of our young men joined them, many of them older brothers of my friends. The army was back not three moons later, then four moons after that.
I had twelve summers under my belt when my brother left against my father’s express wishes. He, with fifteen summers under his, was far from the youngest boy to go, all the young men and many of the older men had gone before him. Old Alec had been gone since before the army came the first time. A canary that in hindsight I should have paid more attention to.
In my thirteenth summer the king once again sent word that he was coming. This time the whole royal family was on their way. We were a stop on their tour of the kingdoms and those surrounding. An embassy was gathering, the messenger who’d run ahead explained between heaving breaths and gulps of water from our well, a last chance to stop the brewing war. I had seen the troops that came back from the boarder. I resisted telling the messenger I was fairly sure war was already here.
They arrived with fanfare this time. The whole royal family along for the ride. The queen stepped out of the carriage on the arm of the king, all grace and stoicism. Then the three princes clambered out, pink in the cheeks, small swords strapped to their sides, hale and joking with one another, each with hair ranging from gold to bronze. The princess followed the three, a fond smile on her face, and my breath caught in my throat. Pale where her brothers were flushed, hair pure spun gold and piled in intricate braids atop her head, and graceful in a gown that must have weighed almost as much as it cost. Not one of them was dressed in travelling clothes.
Once again the inn was full of the king, his family, his knights, and their servants. This time the army who accompanied them camped outside of the village, there was simply no room for them in the inn. Having outgrown the nook by the cooking fire I slept in the loft above their horses. Which was how I heard the king and several of his knights ride out in the early grey light of their second day at the inn. It’s how I heard the king say that before he continued to the embassy he needed to check the situation at the pass, that the queen and children were to stay here with the lady knights, the young bloods, and the squires to wait for his return.
Once they were gone I dropped down into the stables and went through the back door to help the cook finish preparing breakfast for what remained of the royal procession. King or no King there were a lot of them and they still needed to eat. The princes bemoaned the delay, the youngest of them even stomped like a child of many less summers until the queen fixed him with a look that sent shivers up my spine. My father tried to entice the boys with some games of sport since the practise courts stood largely empty these days. Most of the knights and squires went with them. The queen retired back to her room, looking far more sallow than she had the night before. In a corner of the main hall flanked by three lady knights, the princess pulled out some embroidery and settled by the warmth of the fire.
The first three days waiting for the king had passed in much this same manner. It was the evening of the fourth when the princess sat at the bar and spoke to me so passionately about her hopes for lasting peace. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears as she expounded on the costs of war. I nodded along and didn’t tell her that I knew the costs of war already. Perhaps it was the way her hands danced or the sharp curve of her cheek as she spoke with an energy that didn’t match the slip of a girl I remembered that stilled my tongue. Perhaps it was that I didn’t want to know if she truly didn’t notice that every boy above eleven summers and man below forty, and many above it, was missing from the village. It was only when she spoke of the embassy itself that her hands stilled, that the skin around her eyes tightened. In the silence that followed we could both picture what would happen should the embassy fail. I perhaps with more accuracy than she.
“If things do go wrong at the embassy, what will happen to you?” I don’t know if it was the memory of the slip of a child or that her warm brown eyes still shimmered with unshed tears that loosened my tongue. I flushed immediately as the words landed between us. Glad that the room was so empty that her shadow of knights was at a table rather than within arms reach as they usually were. “I only meant, your brothers spend so much time at the practise courts but you’ve never joined them.”
“The fighting arts are not for princesses to learn, ours is the path of peace.” Her shoulders drew back, then she smiled and inclined her head towards the knights at the table behind her. “In any case I have my own very knights. Besides which the embassy will not fail, the cost of war would be too great on all sides.”
“Sometimes peace requires a sharp shot.” I could have cursed my suddenly loosened tongue but I nodded towards my bow that hung by the door to the kitchen instead. I did manage to avoid saying that, in my experience, those in power rarely weighed the costs of war accurately. They weren’t the ones who paid after all. I directed a smile towards the knights and filled a pitcher with more ale for their table. “Though I’m certain your knights have that covered.”
“We were personally selected by the king.” The eldest of the three knights inclined her head in thanks as I placed the jug on their table.
“Then we surely have no better in the kingdom.” I bowed slightly as they grinned at each other. Clearly my comment had stumbled on a joke of theirs. I retuned to my chores. The princes, squires, and the rest of the knights would be back soon, and hungry no doubt.
After all the rush had passed, once I was taking my turn dozing behind the bar, having told father he needed a proper rest more than I, a noise awoke me. Not the sound of someone coming down the stairs searching for something, but the quiet padding of someone trying to sneak. I opened my eyes to see the princess, soft leather slippers on her feet, in a nightgown just as fancy as the one she’d had as a child if not more so, trying to take my bow off the wall.
“You’ll set off my alarm if you do that.” I said the words quietly, but they carried. She froze, fingers on the wood. “Besides, if you try to string it improper you’ll break it.”
“I didn’t, that is, I just…” She gently let go of my bow, jaw working as she tried to find the right words. While I waited I stood and dusted myself off. I hadn’t changed out of my usual outfit of breeches and loose linen shirt. I shook out a new apron and donned it as she took a step towards me. “I have always been told a princess values peace too highly to learn the fighting arts, but I cannot get your words out of my head.”
“I wasn’t the one making speeches.” I smiled, trying to buffer the way the words had dropped like stones from my mouth.
“Practised words, based on study and book learning.” She waved her hands again as she spoke, brow furrowing as she searched again for the things she wanted to say. I wondered, not for the first time, if her inability to look anything less than beautiful was some kind of magic. “I have read a lot of books, listened to a lot of tutors and knights and scholars, but you, when you speak it hold weight.”
“Princess,” I started and then spread my hands, “I don’t know what that means.”
“You have experience in things I’ve only heard of.” She gestured out, passed the walls of the village towards the boarder. “I haven’t been out of the capital, I’ve barely been out of the castle, since I was a child. My mother-”
There was a moment of silence while she chewed on her lip, staring at the floor, and I examined her. “She’s sick isn’t she?”
“She’s been sick for a long time.” The admission fell from her lips in less than a whisper. The princess’ gaze moved from the floor to some place over my shoulder, a point in the distance I couldn’t see. “I, there were three pregnancies before my brother was born. Two more before the twins. I wasn’t sure they’d survive until their naming day, I wasn’t sure mother would. There have been pregnancies since, I don’t know how many, mother rarely leaves her rooms at the castle.”
“You don’t need to tell me this.” I whispered. This felt like secrets, felt like something I wasn’t supposed to know.
“Who else can I tell?” She finally looked at me, met my light eyes with her dark ones. “My brothers are too young, and even if they were older I cannot be the one to burden them, the staff know and cannot speak of it, and father will not hear talk of it. Mother is always simply getting over a chill, on the precipice of health.”
“Why did you come down here?” I asked, near desperate to hear no more secrets, no more things that I could be killed to learn, or killed because I knew.
“You said that sometimes peace requires a sharp shot.” She seemed to grow, pulling herself up from the desperate state she’d gotten into. “I cannot rely on my knights for everything, Chosen though they may be by my Father the King.”
“You want to learn to shoot?” The laughter was back, though it felt more like hysteria this time around.
“I want to be able to do something.”
“Okay.” I unhooked my bow from the wall and headed for the back door. “Sun wont be up for hours, gives us plenty of time as long as your knights are deep sleepers.”
“They should be.” There was a tone in the princess’ voice that made me glance back but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to know.
I led her to my target out just past the garden, oiled my bow, strung it, and showed her how to draw it. Then had her do the same, watched and corrected until she had the motions correct before I gave her an arrow. By the time the grey of predawn made it hard to see the target she could hit it three times out of five. No where near a bullseye, but not terrible. With practise she might even get good.
“Princess.” This was no whisper. It was the calm command of someone who was used to being listened to.
We both turned to see the eldest of her lady knights standing in the garden. For a moment the princess’ chin stiffened. Then the moment passed and she handed me my bow. It was only as she followed her knight into the castle that I realized her shoulders had relaxed when it was just the two of us. A thing I noticed only as I watched them stiffen, as though there was a weight on them she couldn’t quite carry.
I rejoined cook for the breakfast preparation. A good thing too as the sounds of her father and his knights thundering into the village reached my ears. The day was a flurry of activity. The next, and last, time I saw the princess’ face was looking out the carriage window as they rode for the boarder. It was a sight I’ll never forget, though I’m certain the princess did not see me. Tears streamed down her face. The rest of her body held in a terrible sort of stillness, stiller than I’d ever seen anyone. It was the moment that convinced me there was a magic in the princess. Tears streaming down her face, eyes ringed red, as still as death, she was still the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.
When the news that the embassy had failed reached us, only days later, all I could think about was the princess. She dominated my thoughts for the better part of a fortnight. I took my first real breath of air only when the news reached us that the king, princess, and princes, had made it back to the kingdom to prepare for war. The queen having been slain during the embassy. I never found out if that was before or after the peace talks had failed.
After that the army came again. They took any man able to walk and carry a weapon, and many of the women. Only the mothers of young children or those with a business to run were left behind. I took over the inn in my father’s absence. An easier shift than I’d thought it would be. I’d already been doing the bookkeeping for years, ever since my father’s eyesight had started to go. That hadn’t stopped the army from taking him. As they left I remembered the princess, her dancing hands and wet eyes, talking about the costs of war.
————-
The war lasted longer than even the oldest of our elders thought it would. Ir lasted long enough that the army came through again twice more, gathering the boys who had gained enough summers to qualify. Everyone worked in those long hard years, bringing in harvests, mending clothes, cooking meals, or minding the smallest babies as they grew into children. I led hunting parties out into the woods with girls half my age. Nearly everyone moved into the inn by the second year, the fighting close enough on the boarder that some days we could hear it in the village. Those nights were the loudest at the inn. Every woman who could sing or play filled the place with music. Everyone who could brought something in for the stew and everyone was fed.
We started a watch along our walls during the nights. It was a better wall than most villages had but at fifteen summers it barely reached my bust. Ever so slowly those too hurt to continue fighting trickled back through our town, staying overnight often in the few empty rooms we had at the inn, none of them ours. None of us knew if that was a good sign or ill.
Then the war ended. None of us in our village heard why or how or even what it had been for. But we fed and watered the messenger who had been sent to spread word along the boarder. Swapped his exhausted horse for one of our sturdy mountain ponies. A tad slower but our tales of horses with broken legs on the trails to the pass persuaded him.
Slowly, our men and woman came back. Some of them in boxes, some of them afoot, none of them the same as they’d left. The village filled up again, the inn emptied as people went back to their homes. Old Alec was the last to come home. Old Alec with new scars and two pine boxes that made my breath catch in my throat. He helped me bury them out back, behind my target. I cried and he held my hand and told me they were heroes, that the reason half the people who came back survived was because they saved them. That in the last days of war my brother and father had organized the retreat that saved our friends and put themselves at the back, stood between our neighbours and those who still attacked.
————-
The ebb and flow of time carried me along. There were books to balance, people to feed, rooms to clean and rent out, staff to hire. Cook came back, the boy who cleaned our stables didn’t, nor did the woman who’d helped with the cleaning. Old Alec sat in his usual place by the fire, I kept his tankard full and refused his coin. He began fixing and building things around the inn and refusing mine.
Before I knew it I had twenty long summers under my belt and nearly everyone in town simply thought of me as The Innkeeper. It wasn’t that my father and brother were forgotten, but time had moved on without them. That winter blew in early and hard, before many of the crops were brought in. It was the bitterest winter anyone could remember. Even the wolves in the woods began to thin. I opened the inn doors wide. Anyone who needed a room could have one, pay what they could or even if they couldn’t. Many who remembered the war met my eyes, they remembering the same long nights I did, they understood. Donations of food came in drips and drops. Farmers herded their sheep and cattle into the tall walls Old Alec had helped build around my inn, into the stables that once housed warhorses. Their children giggled and ran underfoot, warm for the first time in weeks.
As the worst winter storm we’d ever weathered blew in I was certain that my whole village was packed into the inn, multiple families to a room, tumbles of children piled into beds together. The night had been long but the last few had been sent, or carried, to their rooms. My staff had been sent to their beds. I was just about to settle onto the pallet behind the bar when I heard the knock on the door. It was soft enough I nearly wrote it off as wind. Would have written it off except it came again, barely louder than before.
I pulled my cloak around my shoulders, even opening the door would let in air frigid enough to freeze. As I pulled it open I froze, sure as if the wind had settled into my bones in an instant. Standing on my doorstep was a young woman, no more summers under her belt than I had certainly, a bare slip of a woman, thin enough her cheekbones jutted. Dirty golden hair was tied back in a plait that was fraying at the edges. She wore a cloak that was not nearly warm enough for the weather, over a dress that was almost certainly meant to look like a townie dress. It was just as clearly not, despite the places where it was patched with cheaper, stiffer cloth. There was a bow on her back and a quiver hanging on her hip with a half a dozen arrows left in it. Her boots were clearly just as expensive, but solid sturdy things, despite the layer of frozen road grime. Warm brown eyes over a sharp smile.
“My name is Marigold, I’m looking for a job.” Her voice was barely louder than the wind that blew over the wall into my yard. I blinked and then pulled her through the door and latched it shut. She squeaked and I had to bite back a laugh.
“It’s much too cold to have that conversation in a doorway.” I said with a small smile and drew her to a chair by the fire. I coaxed the flames back up, an easy task considering I’d only just banked it. “Let me take your cloak, I’ve hooks here for it to dry and there’s stew out back I can warm for you.”
“I’m looking for a job, not-”
“This isn’t charity.” I cut her off, if she was going to pretend not to be a princess I’d treat her as such. “This is my inn and it’s the worst winter we’ve seen in memory. You’ll hand me your cloak, which I’ll hang by the fire, I’ll get stew for you and tea for us both because you’ve been on the road and a meal is called for. Then we can discuss if I’ve positions available.”
“I…” She trailed off, jaw working for a moment in an expression I’d seen in my memories so many times. Then she took her cloak off and handed it to me, sinking into the chair beside the fire.
I moved slow as I hung her cloak, giving her time if there were words she wanted to say. Then, when no words seemed to be forthcoming, I moved to the kitchen, the pot of stew had hardly cooled yet and it was easy to warm on the same fire I set kettle took to boil. I gathered a tray, mugs, the pot of tea I filled just as the kettle began to whistle, and a bowl of stew for my new guest. By the time I sank into the chair across from her I already knew my answer but I waited until after she’d finished eating.
“So, Marigold, you’re looking for a job?” I raised my eyebrows slightly.
“I am, I came from the capital.” Her voice didn’t stumble. “My position there no longer worked for me. I wished for something new and have been travelling ever since, looking for a new job.”
“It’s a long way to travel, just for a job.” I couldn’t stop the smile from playing on my lips. “Especially in winter.”
She glanced down at her empty bowl for a moment before putting it on the table. Her jaw was going again. “I had actually been planning to cross the boarder. Until I found this village.”
“The crossing are all well closed this time of year, blocked by the snow and ice. Will be likely for many moons.” I didn’t try to call her eyes back to mine, as much as I wanted to. “Lucky for you I’ve been needing an extra set of hands around the inn. The job comes with a bed and meals if you need them, and some pay of course, though I can’t afford much at the moment. In the spring we can discuss if you want to stay or continue across the boarder.”
“A bed and meals would be plenty.” Marigold’s eyes still hadn’t risen from the bowl.
“You’ll need the pay for other things, clothes for instance, supplies to see you safely over the boarder if you chose to go come spring.” I said the words gently, though not unkindly. “For now though I have some old things you might fit, if you’ve nothing other than what you’re wearing.”
“I’m not sure…”
“I might be a fair bit bigger than you are now but I wasn’t always.” I stood and stretched, my back popping in a way it always did when I’d gone too long without laying down. “I’ve a few dresses and breeches from my youth you can try in the morning. For the moment though a nightgown and a bed I think.”
Marigold reached out suddenly, catching my wrist. Brown eyes half wild as they met mine. “Are you sure?”
“I really could use the extra hands.” The words fell softly as I turned my wrist so I could clasp hers in turn. I knew, bone deep, that was not what she was asking. In the years since I last saw her fear had etched itself into the lines of her face, fresh blisters and callouses covered her once lily soft palms, and she was still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
There was only one room left and it was the room at the back of the inn I’d inherited from my father. It was small, barely fitting the bed and chest of drawers I kept there. A mirror was perched on the chest and beside it lay a sketch of my father and brother and I. Marigold stopped in the doorway. Her eyes had landed on the sketch.
“Oh, I couldn’t-”
“Nonsense.” I pulled her into the room, gesturing her towards the bed while I opened the drawer I’d started putting my too small clothes into when I found I couldn’t bear part with them. I pulled out a nightgown for her as I continued. “The rest of the rooms are full of the farm and town folk, and I spend most nights on my pallet in the main room anyway. In case I’m needed.”
“I, you do not, its…” Her eyes were fixed on the nightgown I’d pressed into her hands, a bit of rose rising on her sharp cheeks.
“It’s the hardest winter yet, nothing good comes of being stingy with what I can afford to give.” My hands fidgeted as I refused to let them reach out to her. Scared and small though she was I didn’t want to add to it. “Get some rest, we can talk about your job in the morning.”
The next day I left Cook in charge of the rest of the staff and had Marigold follow me as I assessed which jobs she had any skill at. Each task I assigned her she did with great determination and very little skill. I slowed down and showed her each step, teaching her the skills I’d had to learn as a small child. Forcing myself not to laugh as her hands, so much longer than mine had been at the time, made the same mistakes.
Each adult we encountered flicked their eyes from her face to my eyes I as I explained that she was Marigold, a traveller who’d come seeking work. None of them said the words that stood so obvious in their throats.
————-
The days wore on, as they are wont to do. The harsh and bitter winter slowly lost its grip and faded into the wet and warm of spring. Marigold got better at the tasks I assigned to her, began to help with the bookkeeping, finding little jobs in the kitchen to make Cook’s job easier, started helping the youngsters that roamed through town learn their letters and numbers. Marigold stayed in my room, I stayed on my pallet. The dress Marigold came in vanished and she took to wearing breeches and loose shirts. Eventually our days settled into a routine. All the little things that needed to be done to keep the inn running smoothly filling our days. Most afternoon the children of the village would gather around the fire for Marigold’s lessons. Bookkeeping was done one evening a week, The other evenings we spent talking, practising bow and spear, or reading from my small collections of books.
Somewhere in the steady beat of routine I stopped retiring to my pallet, staying instead beside Marigold in my bed. The inn slowly cleared out as farmers took their livestock back to their farms and the villagers trickled back into their own homes. Travellers started reappearing as the passes opened once more to the most foolhardy.
As the last of the snows melted away Marigold took a pair of sheers to her braid, flushed and frustrated with the time it took to comb and tame. I found her surrounded by hair in the garden. Holding back a laugh I pulled a smaller pair from my apron, brushed the hair from her thin shoulders and tided it into something manageable. When I was done her waves hung just below her ears and her grin was wider than I’d ever seen it.
Summer came again, as it always does, warming the fields which in turn pulled children away from their lessons with Marigold and back to the work of weeding and harvesting. The inn got busier too, the relaxing evenings we’d had in the winter gave way to rollicking evenings at the tavern as caravans, travellers, and the steady stream of soldiers that summer always brought once again appeared. Music and life filled the tavern. The occasional band of adventurers that always had Old Alec shaking his head a little fondly and a little sadly. Their evenings filled up with washing tankards, wiping down tables, and restocking the bar from their cellar as travellers slowly staggered up to their rooms.
One such night, unremarkable in any other way, Marigold, who the town had taken to calling Mari, or occasionally Goldy, was particularly quiet. Her face had gone quiet and somber and thoughtful in a way I had seen a handful of times. We were standing shoulder to shoulder as I wiped down the tankards and she replaced them on their shelf. I waited her out. I had gotten much better at silence, even around her.
“I, uhm, that is to say,” she started slowly, eyes flicking to me without turning her head. “…you should know… that is…”
“It’s okay princess.” I said it quietly, turned towards her as she spun to face me, eyes wide as a startled deer. Nervous silence greeted my words as she started to tremble. I put the tankard I was wiping down and held my hands out to her. “It’ll be okay.”
Marigold, to my great surprise, stepped between my outstretched hands to tuck herself under my chin. Her words were whispered into my collarbone. “They’ll come for me eventually.”
“Let them come.” I wrapped my arms around her, holding her trembling form against me, letting her hear my steady breath and racing heart. After a few moments she pulled back, just far enough to see the soft smile I had only for her, and her breath caught. One of my hands moved from her back to cup her cheek.
“Are you sure?” Marigold’s whisper was for my ears alone.
“As anything.” I pressed our forheads together, She pressed our lips together. The remaining tankards went uncleaned until morning.
————-
It took them three more summers to come to our little village in their search for the missing princess. Long enough for the village to become used to Marigold running the inn with me. Long enough for her hands to grow as calloused as mine were. Long enough for us to marry one spring when the garden was blooming and the rising warmth got to my head. Long enough that when they asked around no one would have thought to point to the inn for any reason other than I saw every face that passed through this village.
By the time the lady knights arrived to ask if the princess came through our village the scroll they had of her may have bared a passing resemblance to the innkeeper’s wife, but princess’ don’t have callouses hands, they don’t wield a spear and bow, they don’t have their hair chopped short, and they certainly don’t marry innkeepers.
After a long day you come home and flick on the lights. Someone who looks to be a stereotypical vampire is fiddling with your remotes. Before you can speak, they simply say: “Did you know you have a piece of rug that says ‘Come right on in’ in front of your door?”
“Well sure,” I nodded at the vampire. I’d dealt with enough of them to know that this one was new. Not fresh, those still smelled too much of grave and blood to do things like calmly walk into a stranger’s home. New though, new enough he didn’t know who I was. As such he didn’t notice when the slow grin I gave him had a few too many teeth. “I thought about getting one that said ‘be welcome’ but that seemed a little on the nose.”
“Dangerous thing, to live in a place like this and have a truly welcoming mat on your doorstep.” He gestured with my remote at the rest of my house. It was a little place, secluded by my half wild garden despite its place near the center of town. Perfect for my needs, perfect in theory for his as well. When he stood it was with the slow fluidity of a predator.
“Dangerous for whom?” I walked past him into my kitchen, laying down my basket on the counter and watching him stalk closer out of the corner of my eyes. I picked the green onions out of the pile, along with my wooden cutting board and knife. When I turned to face him he jumped slightly, sliding onto the bar stool at my kitchen island as if that had been his destination all along.
“Your door came unlatched when I shook it.”
“Sure did.” My smile hadn’t dimmed as I stepped up to the island with my board and got to work cutting the onions. “I’m making stew, will you be staying for dinner?”
“I don’t think we have the same definition of the word.” He was trying to match my grin now but his eyes kept flicking nervously towards my knife and the calm decisiveness with which it moved. Though perhaps it was my thin leather gloves that had caught his eye, or the way I hadn’t yet taken them off.
“Would you like to count the lentils before I put them in the stew?” I met his eyes and watched him flinch. Ah, one of the more classic of the lot then. I felt a thrill fill me. It had been much too long since I went toe to toe with one who wouldn’t immediately burn upon contact with the sun. “It may keep you entertained while you try to find vermin who will bow to your will.”
“Ah,” guilt flashed across his face. I’d caught him in the act. An act which I was well used to, too well used to perhaps. I had a deal with the vermin who lived in and around my cottage. A deal with me transcended any minor control a vampire may be able to wield over them. “I seem to have underestimated you.”
“Your ilk always do.” My smile changed, shifting to something closer to pity. I allowed my glamour to wash away as I added the onions to the pot that had been simmering all day. My ears lengthened and sharpened to knife points, the whites bled from my eyes, my pupils consuming all colour. Some things only changed slightly. My hair stayed in its long braid down my back, though it took on a metallic sheen. The overalls and loose linen shirt I wore stayed the same the dirt simply vanished. The extra joint in both my arms, legs, and fingers wasn’t immediately noticeable but they would be. “Since we’re being honest you should know a few things.”
He gulped visibly as I turned to face him. Neither breathing nor swallowing was actually necessary to vampires but old habits and all. If he’d had any blood in him it would have drained from his face. Instead I had to settle for the ways the whites over took his eyes and the skin tightened around his face. There are very few things in the world for vampires to fear. I count myself among them.
“My home is easy to enter, it will always be easy to enter, but only those with my explicit permission may leave. ” I spoke softly, the surety of my words needing no added volume. I ticked each point off on my long fingers. “You have trespassed with no intent of obeying the rules of hospitality. I am the shadow in the night, the thing humans whisper to their children to ensure good behaviour, and the thing that keeps the night hospitable.”
He tried to run. My sigh followed him down the short hall to the entryway. His shriek as he tried to open the door without checking it first sent a fire thrumming through my veins. It was truly a work of art, it had taken me decades to craft the perfect closure to my trap. Only a human would be able to open that door without effort and pain. A human or me, who knew its every secret. Despite that he was still scrabbling at the door with bloody hands when I reached him. He whipped around, pressing his back against the door in an attempt to get away from me and then hissing, whimpering like a wounded animal as his feet slipped out from under him.
“Another thing you should know.” I crouched in front of him, feet flat on the ground, every joint bent as I loomed into his space. He whimpered again. “You are a pathetic example of your ilk, but it’s not really me you should fear. I am not the reason so many fear the dark.”
“That’s us?” He whispered, voice cracking as though it didn’t want to do the thing he was asking of it.
“No.” A voice spoke from the shadows of my hall. The woman who stepped out of the shadow was dark in every place I was light. Midnight dark hair flowed loose down her back, skin the colour of shadows, but the shimmering moonlight of her eyes is what always caught my attention. Had for a millennia and I doubted it would ever stop. “That would be me.”
“My love.” I breathed the words even as I stayed perfectly still. Her hand ghosted over the back of my head, sending shivers down my spine, even as her eyes stayed locked on the trembling creature in front of me. “You’ve caught another treat for me in your beautiful web.”
“He’s still fresh.”
“I’m still alive!” His voice shattered on the word.
“You misunderstand the meaning of the word.” Her hand moved to his cheek, nails racking back into his hair. She pulled him to his feet as a litany of pleas fell from his mouth. I wondered if he knew what half the words even meant, I wondered when the last time he’d met someone stronger than him was. “I have feasted on children, on elders, on the healthy and hale, on those brought low by power or disease, I have tasted the original of the vampiir. You are fresh, they were ancient and full of power, you are full of potential. Sweetness?”
She turned to me as I straightened. I raised an eyebrow at her. It was unusual for her to stop mid rant.
“I will be back for supper.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my cheek. As she did her feet started to fade. I smiled and stepped away, I’d followed her into the shadows only once, it was an experience I did not wish to repeat. He started squirming in earnest as she stepped back into the shadows with him. In the shadows there were few and far between who would be able to hear his cries, and fewer still who would listen to them.
I went to stir my soup. She’d be more solid after her meal, and hungry for real food. I would have it ready for her. This was the nature of our deal. As long as I kept her and fed her she would never leave. The night would stay hospitable and I would be happy.
The first time Lorcan and Lysander ran they were only 14 months old, but in their defense, they were being cheered on by most of the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron.
