Something Beautiful
Close my eyes and hold my heart
Cover me and make me something
Change this something normal
Into something beautiful
Chronology: Tristan is 18. Raja is 8.
The woods were quiet and Tristan moved through them with
great stealth. It was his morning hunt, perhaps a rabbit a deer; he hoped he
would snag something good. After a bit of preying he spotted a plump grey
rabbit idling just in plain sight. Perfect,
he thought. He took careful aim with his arrow, but a mere moment before he
unleashed his arrow; a figure tumbled and rolled, snatching the rabbit out of
the way. That was the third time this week!
“Dammit, Raja!” he yelled.
She appeared behind him, cuddling the rabbit in her arms,
petting it lovingly. Why hadn’t he heard her? That imp of a girl could be
quieter than him. Tristan stared at her; barely able to say a word for his
anger rendered his tongue immobile.
“You,” Tristan said, finding his words, “have been a pain in
the ass-”
“Ruining your hunt,” she finished. “Yeah, yeah,” she
mimicked him, and kissed the rabbit on its head.
The little half Sarmatian half Egyptian girl had only been
at Badon Hill for four months, but she and the scout had already developed a
comfortable rapport. Tristan found her easier to communicate with than most
other people. For such a young girl, she spoke clearly and intelligently, and
she didn’t bullshit.
“That’s the third time this week,” he said with an edge.
She shrugged, beginning to walk off back to the fort, rabbit
in tow. He sighed harshly and slipped his bow over his shoulder.
“Hey, are you coming, Trissy?” she said, looking back at
him.
Trissy, he
thought, rolling his eyes. She still insisted on calling him that no matter his
profuse opposition. But, he supposed he could tolerate it – as long as she
didn’t call him that in front of anyone else.
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled under his breath, stepping in line
with the girl.
All the way to the fort she continued to coddle his furry
should-have-been victim. And what’s worse! He couldn’t even stay mad at her.
Tristan guessed it was all right if it brought a smile to her face. He knew
that she had trouble sleeping and she confided in him that she rarely ever fell
fully asleep. She had shrugged, nightmares, she said. Her face looked a bit
wan, and he had caught her more than once staring off into nothing with a look
of grief in her eyes. It was eerie how her pupils grew so wide that her eyes
appeared black with only that ring of silver. It was like an eclipse. Tristan
wondered what demons haunted her.
“Don’t snivel, Tristan,” she said, and smiled at him.
“I’m not sniveling!”
“Look how happy she is,” she told him, holding up the animal
to his face.
He grunted in bemusement and cursed under his breath in his
native tongue.
“You forget that I can understand Sarmatian.”
“Yeah, well, you know too much for your own good.”
Raja laughed. “You’re a beautiful individual, Tristan.”
Before he could say anything, she continued to walk. Okay, I’m going to let that one go.
As they entered the population of the fort, Tristan
unconsciously became distant of the girl. He had a reputation – a reputation
for being a cold hearted bastard. He could only imagine the shit that would be
said behind his back if people thought he was too chummy with the kid. Not that
he cared what others thought – he supposed. The scout wasn’t used to having a
companion, and certainly not
“Are you going to eat breakfast?” she asked.
He heard a few men snicker only a few feet away, his
discomfort now palpable. “Yeah,” he muttered, “be there in a few,” and walked
off quickly.
She watched his back, slightly hurt and annoyed that he
still gave a damn about spending time with her around other people. He was
distant and short when people were around, but his countenance was the complete
opposite when they were alone. Because of her family, she had a deep sense of
loyalty and didn’t like anyone disparaging them. She would defend them to an
iron giant if need be. Raja sighed and headed towards the tavern.
“We’ll get you some carrots,” she promised her new friend.
----------------------
There were knights smattered around the tavern at various
tables, even in the few months she had been at the fort, the numbers dwindled
continuously. These men were being checkmated in battle by successive
execution; she had never attended so many funerals before in her life. Raja
spotted Dagonet and Bors sitting at the other end of the tavern and walked over
to them. Dagonet and Bors were like the big brothers she never had. Bors being
the vulgar, garrulous one, teaching her all sorts of obscene insults that she had
never heard. At least in English. When she first met Dagonet she had to crane
her neck all the way back just to look him in the face. Before she knew it, she
said something that she had heard from a man back in
“Can I sit with you?” she asked them, approaching their
table.
“You needn’t ask,” Dagonet said, and pulled out the chair
next to him, smiling.
Raja plopped on the chair at the small circular table and
held the rabbit in her lap. One of the barmaids, a pretty redhead, brought
Raja’s usual breakfast. The first time she had sat in the tavern for breakfast
and had said thank-you to her, she almost dropped the plate.
“Thank you, Vanora,” Raja said.
“You look beautiful everyday, Vanora,” Bors said. He had
been trying to get her in the sack for weeks.
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Vanora snipped. She smiled
at Raja and Dagonet and went about her work.
Raja took a piece of carrot and fed it to the rabbit.
“What animal are you going to bring in here next – a wolf?”
Bors asked, stuffing his face with bread. “Animals at the table.”
She grinned. “I’d like that.”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t serious.”
“I know, but I’d still like to meet one up close.”
“Where did you find this one?” Dagonet asked.
Raja gave him a knowing look.
“That’s the third time this week,” Dagonet said.
Bors laughed heartily. “I bet Tristan was pissed as hell!”
------------------------
Instead of going to breakfast like he said he was, he headed
to the archery range to ease some of his tension.
Fucking Lancelot,
he fumed. What the hell does he know?
Tristan was sick of Lancelot’s constant quips about him
turning into a softy, or: Isn’t my cousin a little young for you?
Asshole! He was pissed at Lancelot and he was pissed at
himself for letting that get to him. And then the other men laughed. Tristan
launched his arrows expertly, ignoring the other men staring at his prowess as
they sometimes did. After he had emptied the quiver, he retrieved them and got
ready to shoot another set.
“Weren’t you coming to breakfast, Tristan?” Dagonet asked.
He was followed by Lancelot and Raja sans rabbit, having returned it to its
home. The two knights had their own set of bows and arrows.
Lancelot smirked, and Tristan gave him a cold stare that
made the cocky grin on his face flicker.
“Not hungry,” he replied shortly. He released the arrow and
hit the target dead center.
Lancelot said something to the man next to him, and they
laughed. The man repeated what Lancelot said to a few other men down the line
and they guffawed uproariously as well. Tristan’s jaw clenched and he looked
over for a split second to see Lancelot and his drones snickering, throwing
glances in his direction. Dagonet noticed Tristan’s ill at ease behavior and
turned to see what he was looking at.
“Hey, Tristan!” Lancelot called. He didn’t know when to
quit.
The scout ignored him.
The curly haired knight whispered something.
“Stop talking, Lancelot, and quit bothering him,” Raja said
to her cousin.
This made the men laugh harder.
“Is she your bodyguard now?” a nameless man piped up.
Tristan took a threatening step forward, but he was held
back by Dagonet’s firm hand on his shoulder.
“You too,” Raja said.
“That’s cute,” the man said.
“Would you stop?” Tristan hissed at her.
She looked at him a bit confused.
“I don’t need you to stand up for me. Just get out of here,”
he growled.
“Tristan,” Dagonet said sternly. “She was just trying to
help.”
“I don’t care,” he said, shaking off Dagonet’s hand. “She’s
a pain the ass.”
“Hey, you don’t have to-” Lancelot started.
“I was just-” Raja said.
“I said I don’t care. You just make it worse. Beat it!”
Tristan snarled.
“That’s enough, Tristan!” Dagonet said.
But he was not deterred. Raja stood there, looking at him
blankly, her pupils large.
“Are you deaf?” Tristan snapped.
She blinked as if she was just then getting the message.
Tristan saw the bewilderment in her eyes and his anger abated, he was instantly
sorry. But before he could say anything she ran off.
“Real nice,” Lancelot said. “You-”
Before Lancelot could finish his sentence, Tristan’s fist
flew at his face.
------------------------
Despite the fair morning, dark clouds and strong winds
appeared as the day came to an end, rain would surely fall. After Raja had run
off Tristan left Lancelot splayed out on the ground while Dagonet tended an
unconscious and bloody Lancelot. Tristan had stomped his way back to his room,
lying on the bed while he stared at the ceiling. There was a torment of guilt
for what he had said to Raja, and he hated himself for letting those idiots get
to him. Well, next time he saw her he’d apologize and everything would be all
right. She’d forgive him – wouldn’t she? He heard thunder and a snap of
lightning, following by the splattering of rain. His thoughts were interrupted
by a pounding on the door. When he answered it, Dagonet stood before him,
already drenched from the rain.
“What?” Tristan asked.
“Have you seen, Raja?” Dagonet asked.
“Shouldn’t she be in her room?”
“No, she’s not there. She’s not in the stables. Nobody’s
seen her since she ran off earlier. Not even her uncle.”
“But she always goes in the stables or her room when it’s
raining. She hates the thunder,” Tristan insisted.
“Well, she’s not there, and her uncle is going out to look
for her. I’m going, too. Do you have any ideas where she might be?”
“Just one.”
But she wasn’t there at their place in the forest. Dagonet,
Ardeth and Tristan split up, roaming the woods for her. Arthur and Bors stayed
behind, making checks around the fort, Lancelot was still a bit worse for the
wear after being manhandled by Tristan.
The rain beat down on the scout’s face harshly, the thunder
was picking up. Raja didn’t show fear of much anything, but she was openly
disturbed by the sound of thunder. It was dark now, and the moon was ensconced
by a mass of murky clouds. The last time it had rained like this, just two
weeks ago, he and Raja had sat in his room in front of the fire, the young girl
teaching him how to play chess. It was a game of tactics, planning, skill – his
sort of game.
Tristan’s keen eyes scanned the forested area, his clothes now
soaked through and through. He was granted a reprieve when the clouds dispersed
from the moon’s light, and his eye caught something standing out among brush.
He moved cautiously, if it was her, he didn’t want to scare her. He was finally
in sight of the object, and was met by a brand of white hair, bouncing off the
night’s luminescence. He hastily dismounted and crouched near Raja whom was
huddled in a tight ball against a tree. He was relieved to have found her, but
his relief was replaced by worry when he took a closer look. Her arms were
scraped from branches; her hair was tangled with twigs and leaves, her face a
blank stare.
She was shivering violently, her teeth chattering, the only
movements she was making. He moved his head slightly, taking a closer look at
her. Her eyes. Her eyes were chasms of black; staring...staring at what he
didn’t know. He had seen this look before, but not to this extent. It seemed as
if she were watching something going on in front of her, but the only thing in
her line of vision was a mass of vegetation.
As shrilly as he could he whistled, hoping that Ardeth and
Dagonet would hear it. He was hesitant to move her while she was in this
trance. He whistled again, yelled for them. Something was trickling down her
arms. He touched her lightly, moving her appendage just so, and saw blood. In
her other hand she held her silver hilted dagger that she always carried with
her. Seeing the lines of cuts on her forearm made his blood run cold. Without
thinking, he plucked the dagger that was clenched in her fist, but that proved
to be a mistake. She screamed. And screamed. It was the loudest he had heard
her ever raise her voice. She didn’t look at him, just continued to stare where
she had been. Tristan tried to quiet her, but the thunder roared, and she
became more hysterical. Raja sounded as if she were in pain, shrieking from the
depths of her soul, agony that could not be articulated in words.
He picked her up, but in this she struggled. She kicked and
flailed, her shouts never ceasing. Tristan heard the clamor of hooves on the
ground, Dagonet and Ardeth approaching. He almost dropped her, so strong was
her resistance.
When Ardeth approached he said, “She was just sitting there,
and I took the dagger from her hands...” He didn’t know what to do.
Ardeth nodded, obviously he knew what her reaction was when
this happened, and he took her from Tristan’s arms and held her firmly, saying
something in Arabic. Slowly, she stopped screaming and wriggling, becoming
slack.
Dagonet had ridden ahead, taking initiative to get a warm
bath, dry clothes, and healing implements prepared for her. Tristan and Ardeth
mounted their horses and galloped back to the fort.
--------------------------
For a week she was bedridden, catatonic. She came out of it
slowly, bit by bit. Feeding her was difficult, she was too weak to raise her
head, and despite that she was now aware of her surroundings, she refused to
eat at times. After another week she could sit up and was eating more. Raja was
finally able to at least sit in a chair by the window in the sunshine, but she
still said nothing. Her uncle sat next to her, reading to her, his patience
infinite. Her cheeks were sunken in, and her brown skin had turned to a
yellowish pallor. Another week went by, and she finally ventured outside. Her
and her uncle took walks, but she tired quickly. The knights would sit with her
at times, Arthur read to her as well. The only who didn’t sit with her was
Tristan. He went by her room and looked in, but that was all. In some way he
felt that this was partly his fault.
“Will you not go visit her for a while, Tristan?” Dagonet
asked him.
Tristan shrugged.
Dagonet sighed. “I think she would appreciate your company.”
“What makes you think that – after what I said to her?”
“She’s your friend. Probably the best one you ever had,”
adding it as an afterthought before walking away.
-------------------------
Tristan walked down the hall to her room, hearing her
uncle’s voice reading to her. She sat there knitting, barely even looking at
the needles she was working with expertise. Ardeth must have heard him because
he stopped mid-sentence to see Tristan in the doorway.
“I’ll come back later,” he mumbled. But Ardeth stopped him
before he could take two steps.
“No, Tristan. Come in, come in,” he insisted.
Raja did not look up or even acknowledge the shift of
company. Ardeth ushered him in and made him take the seat he had just occupied.
“You leave tomorrow for patrol, visit for a while.” He smiled at him, and left
the room.
There was slight breeze drifting in from the open window.
She still did not take notice of his presence, and the discomfort was palpable.
He took in her appearance, the lost weight, she was still a bit pale, but the
brief excursions she took outside had added a bit of health to her. The
bandages on her arm were covered by her cotton robe. As far as he knew, she
hadn’t said a word yet, so it was probably pointless to attempt to engage her
in conversation. He certainly couldn’t read to her, especially from the book
Ardeth had just been reading to her. He still couldn’t comprehend the squiggles
and dots of Arabic.
He sighed. After sitting for a while staring out the window
and taking sidelong glances at her, he blurted: “I’m sorry for what I said to
you.”
She continued to knit.
“It was...wrong of me. There’s really no good excuse, I’m
just a bastard, I guess.”
Raja stopped knitting, but still didn’t say anything. She
looked at him, as if waiting for him to go on.
“Damn,” Tristan said under his breath. Now what the hell was
he supposed to do? “Thanks for defending me...like you did. I shouldn’t have
let those jackasses get to me.”
Suddenly she gave a weary sigh, and a look of immense
exhaustion came over her. “I thought we were friends,” she said quietly.
He was startled by her words, the fact that she had spoken
at all.
“Well, I’d still like to be your friend, if you can forgive
me.” Not in a million years would he have thought he’d be having a conversation
like this.
“Forgiveness is not a part of human nature,” she said.
Oddly, his heart sunk at her words. The thought of not
spending time with her anymore pained him. He regretted all the more for his
behavior, and he usually tried to make it a point in his life to have no
regrets.
“I understand,” he said, trying to hide the disappointment
in his voice. He cleared his throat. “Well, I leave on patrol tomorrow.
Probably be gone, not more than a week.” When she didn’t reply, he got up to
make his departure. “Bye,” he said simply, he could think of nothing else to
say. She just resumed knitting.
When he got to the door, he stopped and turned around. “You
may not believe me, Raja, or even care now...” his jaw clenched, “but you’re
the best friend.”
-------------------------------
Five days later they arrived back at the fort. They were
dirty, tired and hungry, and the first thing they did was bathing. Tristan
stayed in the bath house longer, stewing in the warm water long after the other
knights had left. His feet were calloused and blistered more than usual and it
hurt like hell to walk. He hadn’t seen Raja when he got back, but he had heard
Ardeth tell Dagonet that she was resting. He rubbed his eyes and sank under the
water, but came up instantly when something plopped in the water.
“
“What the hell are you doing in here?” he demanded. He
looked at what she had dropped in the water – it was a bar of soap.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything. But it’s nothing I
haven’t seen before.”
Before he could ask what she meant by that she continued,
“Get a move on. You are the slowest bather I’ve ever met.” She tossed a washrag
over her head. “I won’t look, go on now.”
He looked at the back of her head quizzically, but he did
what she said. They sat in silence, only the splattering of water was audible.
“Lather your hair,” she said. “I’ll untangle it.”
He grumbled. But he was glad that she was talking to him
with that lilting tone of hers. She usually did untangle his hair, and not
harshly either. Once she tried to put some scented oil in it to make it softer
but he adamantly refused. That’s for women, he said.
“Did you have to fight any Woads this time?”
“Nope,” he said, continued to clean.
“Maybe I can go next time,” she said musingly.
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he said
resolutely.
“Why not?”
“You’re too young,” was his simple reply.
“I can fight though.”
“Your uncle wouldn’t let you go anyway.”
“When I get older,” she conceded.
Not if I have anything
to say about it. He didn’t want her out there.
“Are you almost finished?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. I hope you weren’t planning to have any women waiting
in your room because I have your food in there and your hair desperately needs
to be combed.” She picked up his dirty clothes without him noticing. “Not
unless you’re still embarrassed by me.”
“I was never embarrassed by you.” He gestured to the door
with a movement of his head. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
He heard her little feet quietly pitter patter out of the
bath house and sunk himself back under the water to wash the soap out of his
hair. He got out of the tub and looked behind him for his clothes.
“Damn it, Raja!” he galled between clenched teeth. The
little hellion had taken his clothes with her! All she left was his cloak and
boots. He was lucky his room was nearby. Without drying off he put his boots on
wincing as they rubbed against his feet and wrapped his cloak around him
tightly.
He poked his head out the door, relieved to see that there
were not many people around. It was nearing the evening and most people were
settling in for the night or getting pissed at the tavern. He hurried to his
room ignoring the looks of people watching the wet man with only a cloak and
boots on his person.
Tristan thrust his door open and there she was sitting
cross-legged in front of the hearth, stoking the flames.
“You-”
“...are a pain in the ass,” she finished for him. She waved
him off and motioned her hand towards his bed on the other side of the room.
“Clothes,” she said.
He decided to let it go for now, walking over to his bed. He
looked at her still poking the logs and looked back on his bed. There was a
wardrobe on his bed. Two new pairs of cotton breeches, one light brown, one
dark brown, a new pair of suede breeches, three pairs of socks, two white
sleeveless undershirts, two tunics, one a burnt red, one a dark brown, and a
brand new coat. Tristan picked up the coat and looked it over. It was a dark
brown, similar to his other one, only, well, only it was new.
“Where did you get all this?” he asked.
“I made it for you,” she said simply with a shrug of her
shoulders. Raja turned for a brief moment, seeing the look of consternation on
his face. “You don’t like it?”
“Yeah...I do.” He was still flustered. “You did all this
while I was gone?”
“No, I’ve been working on it for a few weeks. I just wanted
to give it to you all at once. Put it on. Or do you want to stand there in your
cloak all night?” She turned back around.
He took his boots off, hissing under his breath as his feet
were tortured once again. He slipped on the dark pair of breeches and one of
the white undershirts. It was long, just as he preferred. It all fit perfectly.
“How did you know my size?”
She cursed a streak in Arabic. “Do you always ask this many
questions when you receive a gift?”
“I just don’t know why you did all this for me.”
She got up and sat at the small circular table by the
window. She had a plate of food ready for him – slices of buttered bread, meat,
a bowl of soup, fresh ale, and four apples in a small basket.
“You may not have noticed, but your other clothes were in
horrible condition,” she smiled at him. He was glad to see it. He took the seat
opposite her and looked at the food. “It’s not poisoned.”
Tristan made a sound of amusement with a half cocked smile,
grateful for the warm food. “Are you going to eat?”
“I already ate,” she said.
She did look a little better than when he had last seen her,
Tristan observed. Her eyes seemed a bit more alive and her cheeks not so sunken
in. “You look better.”
“I guess.” She got up and picked up a bucket of hot water
that was near the fireplace. She placed it by his feet and told him to dunk his
feet in. “I can tell your feet are hurting.”
He put his foot in but instantly took it out. “It's fucking
burning!”
“Oh, don’t pout, Trissy. It’s not hot enough to blister your
skin. Go on,” she insisted.
He took a bite of bread, and put his feet in the water,
getting used to warmth. “Did you put something else in this water?”
“Yes. It’s supposed to soothe your skin.” She sat back down.
“Thank you,” he said seriously.
“You’re welcome.”
After a while he said, “I’ll pay you back.”
“For what?”
“You didn’t get all that material for free.”
Raja’s face went hard and she leaned over and slapped him
across the head.
“What was that for?”
“Do you always react this way when someone does something
nice for you?”
Tristan was silent for a moment, drinking his ale. “I can’t
remember the last time someone did something like this for me without wanting
something in return.”
“Hmm. That’s too bad then. I just wanted to do something
nice for you.”
“I appreciate it.”
“You would have gone around with holes in your other coat
and breeches, wouldn’t you? They were still dirty.”
“Doesn’t matter to me.”
“I figured that. I’ll wear the same thing, too, as long as
it’s clean. Now that I’m here, though, you will always have clean clothes.”
Tristan laughed at this. “You’re going to be my caretaker,
then?”
“Not your caretaker, but I’ll take care of you. Even if I’m
smaller than you.” She patted his hand.
Tristan finished his food and drank the last of his ale.
“Can I take my feet out now?”
“No. I’m going to untangle your hair, then I’m going to clip
your toe nails – when’s the last time you did that? – and put something on your
feet.”
She carried a black case over to him that she had left by
the door. “It’s a grooming kit,” she told him, before he could ask. She took
out a comb and started to gently take out the knots in his hair. He almost fell
asleep, so good was the feeling of her fingers against his scalp. Soon she was
done with his hair and told him he could take his feet out of the water. He sat
on his bed leaning against the headboard, then she plopped herself in front of
feet, sitting cross-legged. He munched on his apple while she clipped his toe
nails – not without her tsk-tsking her tongue in mock derision – and massaged a
warm salve into his feet with her little hands.
Tristan was sleeping by the time she finished, so Raja
pulled the blanket from under his legs and covered him with it.
------------------------------
It was completely dark when Tristan woke up. He was covered
with his blanket, and Raja was gone. The dishes had been taken away, the table
wiped clean. He got up and noticed that his feet did feel better. Tristan
decided to go to the tavern. He slipped one of his new tunics over his head,
and put on his new coat, which was also a perfect fit. His boots were sitting a
safe distance from the fire, aired out and clean of the dirt and mud.
When he entered the tavern it was loud and fairly crowded.
Bors noticed him and waved him over. He took a seat with him and Dagonet, ale
being instantly served to him by a lasciviously smiling wench. A minute later
Lancelot took a seat across from Tristan, the curly haired knight’s swagger and
cockiness was back by now. “Are you wearing new clothes?” he asked.
“You are observant,” Tristan said dryly.
“How much did that cost?” he asked incredulously.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he stated.
Lancelot looked at Dag and Bors for assistance. But they
were both chuckling at Lancelot’s apparent bewilderment and resentment at the
usually shabby dressed Tristan having brand new clothes. A look of clarity came
over Lancelot’s face.
“Someone gave them to you!” he accused.
Dagonet rolled his eyes. Bors was busy chatting with Vanora,
who had suddenly come around. Unbeknownst to him, Raja had put in a good word
for him.
“I’m off!” he announced with a wide grin on his face and
Vanora’s hand in his.
Lancelot was still stewing over Tristan’s good fortune,
finally going off with a woman.
“Raja?” Dagonet asked him.
Tristan nodded.
“She’s good to have around,” Dag said. “She’s even been
helping me with my Latin,” he confided.
Tristan raised his eyebrows in surprise. “She’s too smart
for her own good,” he said in a good natured way.
The tall knight laughed.
After Dagonet left, Tristan headed back to his room as well.
Normally he would take a woman to his bed, sometimes for a fuck, sometimes for
a blow, but he wasn’t in the mood. When he got back to his room, he took off
his coat and draped it over a chair, and put the other clothes on the seat of
the chair. He went to sleep in his breeches and undershirt, drifting off.
--------------------------
The rain woke him up. After that he couldn’t fall back
asleep. When the latch on his door flipped off by itself, he instantly went for
his sword, but when Raja popped her head in, he relaxed.
“Come in,” he said.
She slipped in and latched the door shut again. She went and
plopped on his bed, and he saw that her pupils were wide again.
“What’s wrong?” he asked concerned.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she whispered. “It’s too loud, and they
might come back.”
All he heard was the sound of rain. “Who might come back?”
She flinched when a rumble of thunder sounded.
“Here,” he said, pulling the covers back.
She crawled under the covers and on top of him, her head
against his chest. He laid back and pulled the covers over them. For some
reason this felt like the most natural thing in the world. She twisted his hair
around her finger, her other hand clenched in a fist on his shoulder. He took
her tiny fist in his hand, enveloping it.
“Am I too heavy?” she asked quietly.
“Hmmph. You’re light as a feather.”
They lay in silence, she still twirling his hair around her
finger.
“I don’t know who they are, Raja,” he said quietly, “but I
won’t let them hurt you, okay?”
Her head nodded against his chest, and he held her to him
with his free arm. She warmed his body, and he felt peace. Eventually he could
tell that she had drifted off because her hand had stopped moving. He pulled
the covers up higher, and began to drift off himself. It was the most peaceful
slumber he had had in years.
And I'm still fighting for the
Word to break these chains
And I still pray when I look
In your eyes, you'll stare right
Back down into something beautiful