“What are you thinking?” he asked in a whisper, lifting himself on his right elbow to look at her beautiful face. It blossomed with the most charming of pinks every time he did it. This time was no exception.

Blushing, she sat up and brought her knees closer. Not looking at him. The flower crown on her head lay crooked and he moved closer to repair it. The moment his finger touched her hair, a bashful glance passed by him and then darted away. Her cheeks turned even redder.

Emboldened Erik lightly brushed her face and without any resistance turned her head towards him. “What are you thinking,” he asked in what he hoped was an alluring manner. Yet he noticed his fingers shaking. He hoped she didn’t. It would be too humiliating if she understood just how nervous he was.

A shudder passed through her body and her mesmerising mist grey eyes focused on him. From a corner of his vision he noticed her lips parting, and a soft word escaped. “You.”

While he sat stunned, her hand moved to rest over his on her cheek. “You and me. Us.” There was a quiver to her voice but he did not notice. His full attention was on those brilliant grey eyes, that quivering little mouth. As if asking a silent question.

His answer was the most obvious one he could think of. He leaned forward and gently put his lips to hers, and kissed her as if his life depended on it. She answered readily, shifting her hands to his hair, pulling him closer to her.

They kissed for what felt like forever, and an all too short a time. Stopping they shared an embarrassed look. Laughed red faced and out of breath.

But the sun was setting and she needed to return home. Unhappily he stood up but the moment his eyes landed on her smile, he was floating once more. What did it matter if she needed to go? He would see her tomorrow. And the day after. If he learnt his trade fast, he could make her his in a year, or even a half.

His mind conjured images of her waiting by their house, a three year old boy running around her with a sword. Upon hearing him come, they would turn with wide grins and the boy would run to meet him while she stood by the door. Her form would be fuller, more motherly but still as beautiful as ever. The grey in her eyes as brilliant as newly forged steel.

Beaming at her, he took her hand, ready to lead her away. A trampled flower caught his attention and he noticed her crown on the ground. Bending to pick it up, he grinned sheepishly at Alice. “I’m sorry…” He raised the crown to show its rumpled condition.

The girl rolled her eyes and took the flowers he’d weaved for her. Without a word she brushed the dirty petals, straightened the stems and weaved the loose ends back into the crown. Then she put it on her head, skewed to the right and danced away from him, twirling in her wide skirt. “How do I look?” she asked making a mock formal bow in his direction; hands on her skirt spread in a half moon, right foot before the left and bent slightly.

His breath hitched as the sun caught on her golden hair, the white and pink flowers. She looked like a forest goddess right there and then. A mystical spirit descended to make him the happiest man alive.

“Like a princess,” he said in a hoarse whisper. Unable to believe he had kissed this being.

She laughed, covering the sound with a hand. Her eyes shone with mirth and she blew him a kiss. Then turned away and ran. He chased after. Needing to kiss those soft lips one more time. Or two. A dozen. Maybe a hundred. Or a thousand.

The moment he got his hands on her, he swore, he’ll never let her go again. No running away from him. She was his and that was it. Case closed.

Two days later a contingent from an army passed and drafted every young man of fighting age. Erik left the same evening without time to say goodbye. When they passed through her village, he saw Alice watching through a window. No tears stained her beautiful face. Only hard steel glinted in her cold eyes.

Twenty Four Years Later

Erik pulled on his horse’s reins, signalling with his knees for her to land. His bay neighed in dissatisfaction and circled the sharp point of the mountain hill. This was no place for landing. “Please, Ára. I’ll give you a handful of oats if you do, ” he reasoned with his horse and the animal snorted. It knew he would give them anyway.

Still, the bay shifted in the air, tilting to the right. After a moment of gliding the horse found a fitting position and slowly beat its gigantic wings in slow descent. Five minutes later, Erik found himself on the familiar green fields of Mergul.

His first instinct was to dismount but Ára neighed in protest. She did not want him leaving her saddle on an unknown ground. The animal was too used to them being ambushed and hunted as they had been in the Northern countries hunting for Zelene’s kidnappers.

“It’s safe. No one is going to attack us here,” he whispered to the horse, brushing the mare’s neck in a calming gesture. She did not fully believe him but stopped fidgeting in place. Instead he signalled for her to go ahead and she fell into a slow trot, her wings folded close to her body.

The hill wasn’t a huge one and soon he found himself riding through the winding path into the village. More than twenty years had passed since the last time he’d been here but he could still name each house. Here lived the smith, still working judging by the heat emanating from the forge. There the village’s healer resided. A bunch of young children working in her small garden. It was their payment for the bruises and scrapes treated by the old woman without telling their parents.

A thin woven fence surprised him. It hadn’t been there before. Same as the small hut behind it. For a time he wondered who lived there but then rode on. There would be plenty of time to find that out later. Now he wanted to see his old caretaker, the village elder that had sheltered him and given him work when his own parents were lost to a fever.

The old man’s house was at the bottom of the hill and up a small path, nestled in the cliff side. Its cone shaped roof was easy to spot from afar. A feeling of longing overtook him as he saw that hut. Large by this village’s standards but minuscule compared to the castle he now resided in. His wardrobe was larger than the whole hut.

Yet it had felt like a mansion when he had to move in from his parents’ hut. The three of them could barely fit in and in the elder’s place he could easily lie with his feet outstretched and not get in anyone’s way. He snickered to himself at how marvellous that had felt. Living like a rich man. Or so he told himself.

People stared as he passed by, freezing in their places with mouth’s hanging open. It was as if he was a medusa, turning anyone who looked at him to stone. Ára sensing the awe she inspired slowed her pace and walked rising her hooves higher than was necessary.

He patted her neck, amused. But soon his smile died. There was no recognition in all the staring eyes. He could name each and every person. Maybe not the children but still. He remembered. No one else was doing the same. Instead of him they saw a stranger.

A stranger in a soft leather jerkin with a golden silk surcoat with green adornments at the sleeves and neck. On his chest was a pin with the royal insignia. The red gems in the hunting cat’s eyes attracting many eyes. His horse was one of the hundred existent in the kingdom. Rare beyond comparison.

How could they see the person beneath such glimmer? The large diamond on his longsword alone could buy this whole place, and more.

When he reached the elder’s house his heart sank even more. The person that walked through the door wasn’t anyone he remembered. No. That wasn’t right. There was something in the features. Was that Hogin, Ulrich’s father? When did his head turn so white? And the many wrinkles hiding his features?

The now old man bowed to the ground before him. “Welcome to Mergul, my lord. It is an honour to greet someone like you in our village.” He hesitated for a heartbeat, taking a surreptitious glance at Erik. “But I’m afraid we can’t provide you with the comforts you must be used to.”

“It’s of no consequence,” Erik said, harsher than he had planned to. Amending, he added. “I won’t stay for long. Stand up now!”

Hogin jumped at his command, straightening. But his eyes remained glued to the ground. He was schooled well in dealing with nobles. Yet that made Erik even angrier. Why did he even bother returning? No one remembered him here. No one wanted him here. He was an unwelcome guest, a calamity.

Turning away, he galloped back the street, cursing himself. This was a fool’s errand. What did he expect to find? All these people had moved on. It’s been over twenty years. It would be too much for them to remember a foreigner that had lived with them for six years and then was drafted, never to return.

But no matter how much he reasoned that, how logical it all sounded, tears welled in his eyes. Since before coming to this place, his family was always on the run, always moving from one place to another. His parents had died here but this was also the place where he made friends for the first time, and started learning a trade.

Fell in love and kissed a girl.

Alice. His heart clenched at the memory of her golden braids and the embarrassed smile blossoming upon noticing him. It had taken him two whole months to attract her attention, and even more to earn her trust. A task that could be equalled to killing the Northern general. Each a victory everyone else thought impossible.

How was she now? Would she have changed much? He tried imaging her wrinkled, grey haired but could not. His mind kept on projecting the youthful girl dancing in a green field, a crown of flowers on her head.

He blinked the moisture from his eyes and pulled on the right rein. Ára responded with ease, turning in the direction he indicated. She trotted past a creaking wooden bridge and then glided downwards, closer to the water. This place was no more than twenty feet from Mergul but for some reason was called another village, Lugrem, and connected to the plains.

Ára landed on another wooden pathway and it creaked. Loudly. For a moment Erik was certain it would break but somehow the wavering structure held. Amazing. He would have never called in possible.

On his left was an extremely small hut and he stopped. Not daring to advance. What if she wasn’t there? What if she was there? Indecision coursed through his mind. He knew he would never return here. The bitter sweet memories weren’t worth it. There was nothing left in this place for him.

To catch the last glimpse of her. Would it be a blessing, or a new kind of torture? Would seeing her haunt his remaining days, or would it be not seeing her when he had the chance?

The decision was soon stolen from him as a pair of steel grey eyes caught his. In an instant recognition lit the woman’s face but she did not move. Nor was there another reaction besides the first moment of surprise.

He took this time to appraise her. For it was her. His Alice.

She was dressed in a thick woollen shirt tucked into oversized pants. They were so baggy, it was like she was wearing a grain sack on each leg. It could have been funny, but somehow she wore it well. There was no embarrassment in her posture of having been noticed wearing her father’s clothes.

It was simpler, after all, when working with the nets and the fish brought in. Less dangerous than a skirt too when trying to navigate between the many stairs, bridges and pathways in the village. He’d seen many fishwives doing that.

Wonder that. Her father was a tailor. Did he change his profession? Unusual.

She walked forward then, stopping two paces away from Ára who was watching her for any danger. Not sensing anything, the horse snorted and threw her mane back.

“Erik.” The word was a sigh and a plea at the same time.

He slipped from his saddle and went to her, spreading his arms to envelop her in a hug. She remembered. She remembered! Out of everyone, she was the only one. His young years weren’t wasted then. She did truly see him back then!

But to his surprise she took a step back. A hand raised to stop him. “What brought you here?” she asked in a conversational tone but her face was cold.

“I wanted to return here, see how everyone is doing,” he answered in an instinctively defensive tone, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why now? What changed?” There was an unhidden note of accusation in her voice. “It’s been twenty four years. Plenty of time to return.”

Twenty four? Did she count? He’d stopped doing that long ago. A flicker of guilt. His hands fell lifeless against his sides. It was too long. Way past the time he should have returned. If he ever planned to do it.

Alice noticed his posture, and sighed, waving it away. “It doesn’t matter. I’m glad to see you’re all right. The news that reach this place are always exaggerated and no longer resembling reality.”

He watched how she said that, the way her shoulders relaxed. A timid smile gracing her lips. It lighted her weathered face, removing the creases in her forehead. There was a new small scar near her ear where her hair were bound in a tight bun.

“You look beautiful,” he blurted out. And he was certain of it. The lady’s in the court were eye-catching with their brocade and silk gowns, gems glistening in the light and impeccable white skin. Alice on the other hand was in deep contrast with her oversized borrowed men’s clothes. But it did not detract from her beauty.

There was just something in the way she stood, the way her lips shaped into that surprised ‘o’. She would quickly blush then and cover the lower part of her face with her hand. He knew his mind was wandering, changing course but he did not care. His Alice was here. With him.

He could not believe it. And she was even more beautiful than before. The eyes that stared at him held iron in them. Somehow he knew she would no longer be cowered by his presence like before. The fearful shy girl was gone and in her stead stood a strong, self-assured woman.

As he thought that, a strange noise caught his attention. A kid was shouting. “Mother, mother! Look!” The boy, five years old or so, dashed towards Alice. But before he made contact, Ára snorted and the boy froze. “What is that, mother?” he asked in wonder, looking up at Alice wide-eyed. “Why does it have wings? Can I touch him?” He asked and stepped forward but his old sweetheart caught him.

“No, Kari, you can’t. It’s the lord’s horse. Bow now as father taught you.”

The boy grumbled but did as told, presenting Erik with the most crooked and half-hearted bow he’d ever received. To his utter horror, Alice did the same. Though hers was much more elegant.

As he stared - uncomprehending - a bulky man wallowed up to their group. He bowed and then eyed Erik with his small, beetle like eyes. “Is the lord bothering you?” he asked in a quiet voice, but loud enough for Erik to hear.

Fury blazed in his heart. That was something substantial in this whole confusing situation. He took hold of the emotion and with a flourish drew his sword. Its pommel was decorated like a dandy’s but the blade itself was razor sharp. It’s been awhile since he bloodied it. Now was as good time as any.

He advanced in a deceptively careless manner. “You dare to insult the to-be-king? Have you a death wish?” he asked with venom dripping from his voice. All his anger and dejection surging to the forefront of his mind, eager for release. Meeting Alice had distracted him for a bit, but the emotions weren’t gone.

First he was forgotten, then ridiculed? He wasn’t going to take it! Whatever he was before, now he was the legendary hero! He rose through the ranks with his own power, then went and won a protracted siege on his first month. Once the prince was kidnapped, he chased after the brigands through three countries. All of which were at war with theirs. Nothing stopped him on his way.

And now this nobody was insulting his honour? Saying that he would come unto a woman against her wishes? He who had saved the princess and rose so high through his achievements the king offered him his daughter’s hand? The princess herself had begged her father for this boon until he finally relented! Erik Steelwind was a name akin to bravery, integrity and righteousness!

The man staggered back from the fury emanating from him. Smart fellow. But not smart enough. He was a walking invalid. Erik would not kill him. It would be beneath him but maiming wouldn’t be too much. The oaf deserved it for his stupidity.

Fear was now clear in the fatso’s eyes. His legs caught onto each other and he stumbled, fell backwards. “Please, no! Please! I’m sorry! Don’t kill me!” he squeaked, his voice going shrill from terror. Good. Maybe next time he’ll think before insulting the greatest hero of the land.

Erik flexed his sword arm, noting with satisfaction how the fatso’s eyes retracted, following the blade. He was about to stab when a shadow flitted past him and he pulled back. Alice half lay, half crouched over the fallen man, covering him with her willowy form. “Please! For all we shared in the past, don’t harm him! Please! I beg of you!”

The woman fell on her knees before him, crying and begging. Now fully confused he took another step back, his sword arm falling limp. What was going on? Why was she crying? Who was that fat swine to her? Did he have something over her? His fury mounted once more when a word she was saying passed through the thick haze in his mind.

“Husband. Please, let my husband live! We’ll do anything, just don’t harm him! If something happens to him, all of us will die! Please let him live!”

It couldn’t be. He stared at her stricken face, the tears rolling like a waterfall. She repeatedly begged him to not harm the man, and alternated between bowing to Erik and shielding the fat pig. The young boy was whimpering at the side, not understanding. He knew something was wrong but couldn’t understand what. His mother told him to stay away so he did but .. but..

Ára sensing something was wrong neighed loud and stood on her hind legs, opening her expansive wings. The gust of wind freed Alice’s already barely holding bun and the golden locks tumbled around her twisted face.

He recognised nothing in it. She was genuinely scared of him. Not like before. Not of the boy that was a huge unknown. No. Now she was certain he might kill her at any moment. Now she feared the monster he’d become.

Monster? He looked at the blade in his hand. It was a bloody thing. Cleaned but that changed nothing. His eyes roamed to her face again. Searching. Seeking. But there was nothing there. By threatening her husband he destroyed any chance of rekindling the emotions of years past.

A bitter laugh passed his lips. Rekindling? She was still the beauty of his youth. In the time he hadn’t seen her, she’d only matured and become strong. From the weak shy flower she’d grown into a strong, unwavering oak tree. Even now, terrified of him as she was, she was pleading for her husband’s life. To let him live. Take her if necessary but leave her husband. She couldn’t take care of their child alone.

And he was the monster threatening her. Disgusted by himself and this whole situation Erik grabbed onto Ára’s reins and swung into the saddle. “Fly, fly!” he shouted out as Ára was already beating her great wings. He could feel the muscles tensing under him, preparing for the leap. But it wasn’t enough. He whispered encouragements for her to hurry. He didn’t want to be here a second longer than necessary.

A burst of power, clatter of hooves and they were off. Ára rose high in the sky, away from the place as fast as she could. She sensed his agitation and didn’t stop for hours. Wind whisked past him, freezing his breath but Erik could not feel it.

Deep in the night they reached the encampment. No one interfered with him as he landed near the royal pavilion. Servants rushed out to take Ára off of him and he let them. Ignoring them all, he marched towards the largest yellow tent.

The guards saluted him and he pushed through the entrance. On a fur covered bed his wife lay reading a book. Princess Zelene raised her eyebrow at him upon noticing his rumpled appearance. “And the occasion is?”

He shook his head, unable to speak. His throat was clogged with words he couldn’t utter aloud. Losing his clothes, he blew the light off to Zelene’s indignant huff, and went under the covers. His wife sighed loudly to make certain he heard and after a lot of bustling around came to join him.

“What happened?” she asked in a soft voice. When he didn’t reply she moved closer, gently putting her hand on his face and turning him to her. “Tell me.”

Erik didn’t know if he wanted. If he should. But when he opened his mouth instead of words a cry escaped. Then there was no stopping it. He broke down sobbing and blabbering nonsense. His nose clogged and tears streamed to disappear in his beard.

Zelene brought him to her chest and softly caressed his head. “Shh, my dear. Shh. It’s going to be all right,” she promised him in a soothing voice. And he believed her. Deep down. Somewhere.

But his pain was too raw for now. There was no home to return to. The place that had held him strong through all the horrors of war, the cold and hunger was no more. Maybe it was never there and he’d only imagined it. But it was the one constant in his mind.

A place to return to.

A woman to come back to.

In his mind she was always waiting for him. Even if it took him forever, she’d still be there, waiting for his return. It was how the stories went. All the other campaigners told him he was delusional. Insane. No woman would wait that long. If she did for a year it would be admirable.

But he never believed them. Many fights were started to defend her honour. Or so he told himself then. Now he knew it for what it really was. All those times he was defending his own sanity. If not for her light smile and those shining grey eyes, the madness of a battlefield would have taken him long ago. He was never strong. Not in this. It was fear as much as anything that motivated him to push forward. Higher. Higher. Until he was so high no one would risk offending him. Challenging him.

He hiccuped. The torrent of salty water restarting. What would have happened if he’d hesitated? Stopped for a moment and looked back at what he’d left? He could see it as if it had really happened; Alice standing by a small hut’s entrance, a small boy of three running nearby with a sword. He was golden haired like her but with Erik’s own green eyes and the slightly crooked nose. The most charming boy that ever existed.

But the next moment the picture was corrupted. Alice wasn’t waiting for him. Instead of a long dress, she wore baggy fisherman’s pants and welcomed a hulking man trampling white and pink flowers in his wake. The golden haired boy stopped to wave and his eyes were a dull brown. The nose small and straight.

Erik cried and cried until there was nothing left in him. He held onto Zelene and listened to her soothing voice. Before he fell asleep, empty, a sleepy thought floated through his mind. This was home. In this woman’s arms. She was the safe haven he had always dreamt about. Why then did he go to that village? He could not tell.