It was love at first sight. He rode in, just like in those silly stories I loved so when younger, clad in bright armour, sitting on a white horse, like one of those heroic paintings that could never be real. Except it was.
And just like the in the stories, he showed up just when the time was the darkest. The kingdom threatened and father's castle under siege by the forces of darkness. Then he came and drove them back, by his own skill and courage, by inspiring my father's soldiers to feats I had scarcely believed could be achieved by mortal men.
He is a hero, a saviour and, most importantly, my husband. I had thought that, having saved us, he would move on to other adventures, greater and more important nations and empires. That, if he settled down, it would be with some far-off empress ruling an empire upon which the sun never set from a golden palace.
But he stayed and, out of all the hands offered to him, chose my hand. I had loved him from the moment he rode in and the moment he knelt before me and offered a ring I ... it became the happiest moment in my life.
We made love that night, in secret so as not to arouse my father's suspicion, and it was incredible. He was so gentle and caring, a warrior with the soul of a poet and a lover.
My father announced the engagement the next day.
It has been a month since we were married in the city's cathedral, before the dignitaries of half a dozen nations saved by my husband. Compared to the past month, my life before seems like a distant, pale memory.
I am happy, so much so that nothing can bother me. Even the ever-present pangs of doubt that I'd forgotten something ... something important ... can no longer faze me for longer than a few brief heartbeats.
It is a lazy summer's day, perfect for lounging on one of the castle's balconies. The calming sound of my husband's heartbeats has lulled me to sleep more than once already and as I look at him, bleary eyed, having just woken up from my nap, I see him watching me with those warm, kind eyes that I'd fallen in love with scant months ago.
A piercing whistle startles us both. The way it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere made me wonder ... was it magic? Did Alaric, the court mage, or one of his aids need my beloved for something.
I saw him speaking, his mouth moving, forming words, only there was no sound coming from them. Magic it must be, then.
As soon as I was certain he was no longer speaking with whichever mage he had been speaking with, I voiced my concern, "Did something happen? Does my father request your presence?"
He looked back at me and suddenly I saw.
The man before me wasn't the man I'd married. He shook my hand off cruelly and stood, looking at me with such cold, inhuman eyes ... as if I was a dirty rag he'd used up cleaning his sword and was now worthless to him.
He turned his back to me, silent.
It must be a nightmare, I kept telling myself. Surely I was still asleep and I'd wake up and it would be a bright, warm day and my love would embrace me and we'd laugh about the silly dream.
Then ... then the man who looked like my husband but wasn't him, spoke, but he didn't speak to me, "Computer, end program."
And all was darkness.
***
A Star Trek story brought to you by Kibbles' twisted imagination. The story of a poor, abused character from a holodeck program.
Yeah, I've got no idea where this came from. Well, okay, it's based on a short segment from Planescape: Torment titled Longing (a memory in the Civic Feasthall) where you have one of the Nameless One's previous incarnations acting just like a computer player would. All the right words, all the right motions, but empty of meaning or emotion.
Star Trek was just a convenient place to tell a variant of the story.
Also, written in roughly thirty minutes. So, keeping that in mind, how is it?
And just like the in the stories, he showed up just when the time was the darkest. The kingdom threatened and father's castle under siege by the forces of darkness. Then he came and drove them back, by his own skill and courage, by inspiring my father's soldiers to feats I had scarcely believed could be achieved by mortal men.
He is a hero, a saviour and, most importantly, my husband. I had thought that, having saved us, he would move on to other adventures, greater and more important nations and empires. That, if he settled down, it would be with some far-off empress ruling an empire upon which the sun never set from a golden palace.
But he stayed and, out of all the hands offered to him, chose my hand. I had loved him from the moment he rode in and the moment he knelt before me and offered a ring I ... it became the happiest moment in my life.
We made love that night, in secret so as not to arouse my father's suspicion, and it was incredible. He was so gentle and caring, a warrior with the soul of a poet and a lover.
My father announced the engagement the next day.
It has been a month since we were married in the city's cathedral, before the dignitaries of half a dozen nations saved by my husband. Compared to the past month, my life before seems like a distant, pale memory.
I am happy, so much so that nothing can bother me. Even the ever-present pangs of doubt that I'd forgotten something ... something important ... can no longer faze me for longer than a few brief heartbeats.
It is a lazy summer's day, perfect for lounging on one of the castle's balconies. The calming sound of my husband's heartbeats has lulled me to sleep more than once already and as I look at him, bleary eyed, having just woken up from my nap, I see him watching me with those warm, kind eyes that I'd fallen in love with scant months ago.
A piercing whistle startles us both. The way it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere made me wonder ... was it magic? Did Alaric, the court mage, or one of his aids need my beloved for something.
I saw him speaking, his mouth moving, forming words, only there was no sound coming from them. Magic it must be, then.
As soon as I was certain he was no longer speaking with whichever mage he had been speaking with, I voiced my concern, "Did something happen? Does my father request your presence?"
He looked back at me and suddenly I saw.
The man before me wasn't the man I'd married. He shook my hand off cruelly and stood, looking at me with such cold, inhuman eyes ... as if I was a dirty rag he'd used up cleaning his sword and was now worthless to him.
He turned his back to me, silent.
It must be a nightmare, I kept telling myself. Surely I was still asleep and I'd wake up and it would be a bright, warm day and my love would embrace me and we'd laugh about the silly dream.
Then ... then the man who looked like my husband but wasn't him, spoke, but he didn't speak to me, "Computer, end program."
And all was darkness.
***
A Star Trek story brought to you by Kibbles' twisted imagination. The story of a poor, abused character from a holodeck program.
Yeah, I've got no idea where this came from. Well, okay, it's based on a short segment from Planescape: Torment titled Longing (a memory in the Civic Feasthall) where you have one of the Nameless One's previous incarnations acting just like a computer player would. All the right words, all the right motions, but empty of meaning or emotion.
Star Trek was just a convenient place to tell a variant of the story.
Also, written in roughly thirty minutes. So, keeping that in mind, how is it?
