[ WP ] She 's a blood thirsty tyrant and he is her loyal protector ...

I am the Queen's knight. That is all I am. That is what I was raised to be. 
 
 When the crowd throws their jeers and hate at the Queen, I toss it back. When the crowd cries in outrage and calls for her head, I close her ears. When the people raise spears and torches in revolution, I bury them in the ground. 
 
 I had grown to accept this duty of mine less than a few nights ago. The Queen's brother, the Duke, had taken me aside in the dining halls of the castle. It was the wee hours of night. I could scarce recall the grim, lazy look on his face, illuminated by the light of a freshly-lit candle. 
 
 It was the look of a man who would never and could never become the equal of my fair lady. I knew that then. 
 
 On that night, thick with crows crying loud, just outside the castle doors, the Duke came to me not with an offer, nor demand nor threat, but a question. He said it quite plainly and had I not been familiar with his usual, offensive tone, I would have taken it to an insult to my honor. 
 
 But, I knew the Duke. He was an honest man. He was a clever man. He was a hard-working and self-deprecating man. He was everything the Queen could not have been, yet even further below her because of that. So, when he spoke. I listened. 
 
 `` What are you loyal to, Sir Beolund?'' he asked, using my name. 
 
 `` I am the Queen's knight,'' I replied. 
 
 He shook his head at me, but he did not voice his lack of satisfaction to my answer. His dark, thick eyebrows betrayed frustration. The Duke wanted me to ask him. He wanted me to acknowledge the dodgy answer that I'd given him. Thus, I did. 
 
 `` Is that answer not to your liking, Duke?'' 
 
 `` Are you loyal to the queen, Sir Beolund? Or, are you loyal to the Queen, my sister?'' 
 
 It was an odd question. I've never considered it before. Though, this was because I had already known the answer. 
 
 `` I am the queen's knight, Duke. Whomever she would be.'' 
 
 This was the right answer, I thought. I am loyal to the crown and only the crown, after all. The current queen is the crown head of our country, thus she would receive my loyalty. And by giving my loyalty to her, I do my duty as a Knight, and nothing more. 
 
 This would silence the Duke, I thought. This was the answer he wanted to hear. This had to be the answer that I could win with. 
 
 But, the Duke just shook his head, `` Incorrect.'' 
 
 I raised an eyebrow at the man, confused and perplexed. I was n't aware that I could provide an incorrect answer to your question. 
 
 `` You, like all other foot soldiers, like all other noblemen, like all other working men, are loyal to yourself, first and foremost.'' 
 
 I raised my voice in protest. Surely, he was not preaching high treason against the throne? 
 
 `` And, because you are loyal to yourself. Men like you have no right to justify your duty and morals as just a means of work foisted upon you or a lifestyle that you had taught to you. Only weak men would do that. And weak men are not what maketh a knight.'' 
 
 But, I am the Queen's knight. 
 
 The Duke got up and leaned closer to my face. I could see his dark, handsome eyes glimmer by candlelight. His trimmed nails tapped against the empty bowl of porridge on the table. His skin, his handsome face, bore every expression that his father, my king, once had before his passing. An expression of contempt. An expression of confusion. An expression of discovery. 
 
 He stretched his back and legs before leaving shortly after, leaving me alone by candlelight to consider his words. 
 
 Now, it is the break of morning and I continue to escort the Queen from place-to-place. She looks at me with impassioned, glassy eyes, admiring my gallantry and honor as I guard her from the rabble peasant. 
 
 But, I can see past that. I can see the face of a woman who'd order the death of thousands without a thought. I can see the face of a girl who'd shut up and lock up anyone she'd found to be disagreeable. I can see the face of a child who'd burned and flayed men like myself for unclean thoughts they'd harbor at night in warm embraces as they huddle in their beds. 
 
 I do nothing to break that face, howevver. To break the poise and elegant falsehood of weakness that she bore on her lips and eyes. 
 
 For I am the Queen's knight. That is all I am. That is what I was raised to be. And that is all I will ever be.
