Nine years ago…

“I’m going to step up your training from now on,” Brenin told Ren exactly one year after he’d come to the man’s home. 

Ren wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or terrifying. 

That day, Brenin got a straw dummy and laid it on the “battlefield” of the training grounds. Ren toed it and surveyed it with interest. 

“Don’t put your foot on that; that’s the princess,” Brenin warned. 

Ren hastily removed his foot and backed away. He bowed to the dummy mock-politely. “Sorry, my lady.” 

“You’re overdoing it,” Brenin told him wryly. “You don’t need to talk to it. Just keep me from hitting it.” 

“Huh?” Ren frowned with that quizzical look that so often annoyed his teacher. 

“You’re going to be a bodyguard, not a soldier. There’s a difference. A soldier’s primary goal is to beat up the enemy. A bodyguard’s goal is to protect his charge. Your whole life revolves around that. If she dies, you die. You understand?” Brenin demanded. 

Ren looked at the dummy with more respect, but he heard something that bothered him in that explanation. “Wait a sec. Does that mean I don’t get to beat you up?” 

“Well, of course you want to neutralize the threat if you can. But if you can’t, it’s enough for you to get the princess to safety.” Brenin pointed to a small wooden platform he had erected. “That’s safety. Got it?” 

“Do you mean I gotta run away?” Ren stared at him with an expression that seemed to say he had been betrayed. 

“If you can’t beat your adversary,” Brenin reminded him. “Do you think you can beat me?” 

“Yep!” Ever the optimist, Ren picked up his stick and lunged. 

Twenty seconds later, he was planted face down in the dirt with Brenin’s foot in his back. “Your princess just died,” Brenin told him. He moved his foot so the boy could get up. 

“But I gotta beat you. That platform’s not safe if you’re still alive,” Ren argued. 

“I’ll tell you again. If you can’t beat me, your job is to get the princess to safety. That’s first. Your whole purpose, the reason for your existence is to protect her.” Brenin tossed him the stick he had dropped. “Again. Protect her.” 

For the entire day, Ren kept lunging at his teacher. And for the entire day, Brenin put him in his place. As it grew dark, Brenin told him, “You’re not listening at all.” 

“I’m going to beat you! I’m not strong if I run away,” Ren argued. 

Brenin bent down and took him by the shoulders with hands that were surprisingly gentle. “Listen to me, Ren. Running away doesn’t mean you’re weak. Losing doesn’t mean you’re weak. Got it?” 

Ren stared at him blankly. “No,” he said. 

Brenin sighed in frustration and went inside. 

The next day, Ren awoke to Brenin’s voice coming from outside. “Ren! Get out here, boy!” 

Ren stumbled out blearily with his blond hair sticking up in all directions. But when he saw Brenin’s companion, he hastily smoothed it down. Brenin had apparently decided the straw dummy wasn’t quite what Ren needed at the moment. He’d brought the actual princess, a beautiful, serious little girl with auburn hair and deep, thoughtful brown eyes that seemed mature far beyond her years. Ren’s mouth dropped open as he stared in astonishment. 

Ren said, “Is that the real princess?” 

“Of course it’s the real princess,” Brenin said wearily. “Bow.” 

Ren remembered what his parents had taught him about etiquette well enough to bow respectably. Then he said, with a face full of wonder, “She’s real pretty.” 

Kathryn said, “I understand you’re having some difficulty with your training.” She was only nine years old, but she already talked in a refined way Ren could never imagine attaining. “Come here, General.” 

“Um…I’m not a general,” he said in confusion. 

Brenin explained, “The royal bodyguards are always given the complementary title of ‘General.’ Do as your princess orders.” 

Ren walked up to her and looked down at her in wonder, amazed by how fragile and tiny she was compared to him. Brenin reached out and held up Ren’s hand, which was pretty large for his age and covered in calluses and scrapes. “See this?” he said. He took the princess’s tiny, pale hand and held them up next to each other. “Your job is to make sure there’s never a scratch on that hand. Because she’s small, and she can’t protect herself. Understood?” 

“Yes, sir.” It was the first time Ren had called him anything other than “old man” or “Brenin.” 

Brenin nodded matter-of-factly. “Good. Now, princess, stand over on that platform if you would.” She obeyed. Ren picked up his stick. 

“You’re not going to try to attack the real princess, are you?” he began. 

Hardly had the words left his mouth when Brenin snatched up his stick and lunged directly towards the young princess!

Ren instantly blocked him, throwing up his stick desperately. “Protect her!” Brenin ordered, delivering a flurry of blows and driving Ren back towards the platform. 

Ren was suddenly very aware of the fragile little person at his back, and he pushed against the onslaught, struggling to hold his ground. And when he was finally beaten down to the ground and Brenin started to pass him, Ren tackled him around the ankles, throwing him off balance and knocking him down. 

Kathryn clapped cheerfully. She had never moved an inch while on the platform, and there was not a hint of concern in her face. She seemed completely convinced that Ren would protect her or that Brenin wouldn’t hurt her. 

Brenin helped Ren up with one of his rare smiles. “Good job,” he said. 

Ren was discouraged. “I didn’t beat you, though.” 

“No. But that’s okay. You slowed me down long enough for the princess to get away.” 

Ren looked at him doubtfully and then at the princess. “She didn’t get away,” he pointed out. 

The general held back a frustrated sigh. Kathryn interjected, “Yes, I did. Use your imagination. See, you can imagine me running away.” 

Ren wasn’t too sure about all that, but he did know it was probably a bad career move to argue with the princess. 

They continued training in this way not for a day, or for a week, but for an entire year. Every once in a while, Ren still forgot himself and simply lunged at Brenin with the intent of defeating the older man. 

At which point Brenin always left him in the dust. Once Brenin told him, “Your worst enemy when protecting the princess is not the man you’re fighting. It’s your own failure to concentrate and control your emotions. One day, the man on the other side of the fight may be stronger than you. He may be intent on harming the princess even if he dies trying. And in that moment, whether she lives or dies will depend entirely on whether you choose to attack or to protect.” 

Those words stuck with the boy. But what stuck with him more was Kathryn, who always stood on the platform with an expression that seemed to say she was watching him from high above, judging, and approving. And one year from that day, on his twelfth birthday, Ren told the princess, “I want to marry you someday. You’ll marry me, won’t you?” 

Brenin was standing by and happened to overhear, and he said immediately, “Ren, don’t talk nonsense.” 

Ren couldn’t understand why that was nonsense. He said, “But you said we’re supposed to protect people we love. I’m protecting the princess.” 

“You’re a bodyguard. You’re no better than a servant,” Brenin told him bluntly. “You can’t marry a princess.” 

Ren, never daunted, returned to the idea about a week later by presenting the young princess with a ring made of daisies chained together. Kathryn very politely refused the ring. She told the downcast boy, “I’m afraid I can’t marry you. I’m going to be a queen someday.” 

Ren frowned. “You can’t be,” he said firmly. “You’re not the oldest. Illian’s going to be king. He says so.” 

“Yes, Illian is going to be king. But I’m going to be a queen too. And if I’m going to do that, I have to marry a king from another place,” Kathryn explained patiently. 

Ren considered that. “But what if they don’t love you?” he asked. 

“That doesn’t matter. Because I have to be a queen for the sake of my country.” 

Ren felt chilled by how casually she spoke of such matters. He had watched his parents struggle through an entirely loveless marriage One thing he was sure of was that it was no way to live. And he felt there was a certain injustice about the whole matter of anyone marrying someone who didn’t love them. 

“I’ll make it so you don’t have to marry anyone,” he said decidedly. “You’ll be a queen without anybody coming along to say you have to marry them, and I’ll be your bodyguard, and I’ll be there for you to make sure no one bothers you. That way, you can do whatever you want!” 

Kathryn thought this option over, and it seemed to appeal to her. Eventually she said, “Very well, let’s do that. It’s a promise.” 

Present day

As Kathryn went to sleep that night, her relationship with Ren felt like that daisy chain ring: fragile, soon to wither, and just as naive and pointless. Being a queen was all that was left for her. If she couldn’t even do that, then what use was she? So why couldn’t she throw away that pointless gift?

The next day, that same princess descended from her carriage in the lush and green garden of the Azure palace in Navinor and curtseyed to her husband-to-be and his retinue. 

“Princess Kathryn Regina of Iridalys!” a servant announced. 

Kathryn held her curtsey for a long moment before raising her head to look into the emotionless, unfeeling eyes of her betrothed. She said, “I am at your service, my lord.”