The year that followed was rather peaceful. I played music for many rich men and women alike. I had kept hoping that I would see Princess Eileen again, but my wishes soon wilted into naught, when I learned the Prince she had married would not even let her return to see her dying mother.

Rumors of the Queen’s illness spread across the country like wildfire. The King held a feast in which he announced that we would be going to war. “Eat up! We will not have another one of these in a long while, men!”

I was hunched over my harp. I did not let them see the single tear that smudged the vision in my left eye; it fell across my neck in silence. I was not allowed to leave until everyone dispersed.

When the mead hall had been emptied, and the King strode past me, my throat tightened, I wanted to scream. In his gaze danced Starlight, and that is when I finally understood, the severity of my actions; the meaning of that dratted letter.

We went to war.

The Queen perished.

The King died a pitiful man who barely even knew his name anymore.

Their rule was not succeeded by another. The kingdom fell to pieces while its people were still weeping at the sudden disappearance of their stability.

They came in hoards. As the battle cries rose, I was woken one day by my door being knocked down and smashed to tidbits of wood. These soldiers, whomever they were, cared not for my dignity.

I did not recognize their emblem as the one from the country I had served for years.

Winter’s chill bit at my bare skin. I wondered if my toes would freeze as they brought me to their leader, then forced me to kneel in the snow, before a tall stallion whose coat was the color of leaves in the autumn. The Commander who rode him donned armor of the most regal kind. There were four other women aligned next to me, who were also in their nightgowns, in disheveled states.

The Commander picked whichever fruit was the ripest in his eyes.

He wanted me—all of me.

I learned my husband’s name on our wedding night. Like the other women I had crossed paths with over these last few years, I married not out of pleasure, but out of obligation. When we kissed, I found myself imagining Princess Eileen’s face without fault.

I wondered, if Princess Eileen knew what had become of her country. And then, I feared for what would become of me.