Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a princess. She was beautiful, as princesses often are, and sweet natured. But she was the only child of Tedros and Agatha, the king and queen of Camelot, and as such, she was used to having her way. She was used to being the center of attention, and she was not used to sharing. Which meant she was less than thrilled when, the day after her fifth birthday, another little girl was brought to live with her.

“It’s my room,” Princess Nyx complained, tugging plaintively at the jeweled hems of her father’s robes.

“It is for your own protection,” Tedros said. “These are grave times; a bodyguard is a necessity.”

Nyx scrunched her nose, and eyed little Ismena’s braid, the smudge of dirt on her cheek.

“How good a bodyguard could she be?” Nyx asked. “She’s as little as me!”

“She’ll learn,” the king said. “Ismena will be taught by the finest warriors in the kingdom, and she will grow up beside you, like your shadow. She will be with you always.”

Ismena smiled. She had lost a baby tooth in the front row, leaving a gap in her smile. Nyx frowned.

~C~

Ismena sat in on Nyx’s lessons, but not her play. While Nyx played in the castle gardens, chasing jewel-winged fairies and braiding daisy chain tiaras, Ismena learned to fight. On the whole, Nyx was uninterested in Ismena and her acts, but occasionally she would come across the girl and her tutors. Ismena was as graceful as a gazelle balancing the weight of a sword against her slender body.

~C~

Nyx watched Ismena let her hair free of its long braid. Every night, the same routine: Ismena loosed her lustrous black curls, and brushed them out. In the morning, she braided it back up. The only thing that changed, year to year, was the length of her hair. Ismena never cut it: her braid grew along with her, the end swinging about her hips.

Nyx curled her own hair around her finger.

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“Your hair’s so pretty,” she said. “Why don’t you wear it down?”

Ismena’s hand stilled mid-motion, the brush’s teeth still tangled in her curls.

“Vanity is a weakness for a warrior, Highness,” she said. “It would not be wise. What would happen if I had to protect you, and my hair got in the way?”

Nyx frowned. “So you do it for me?”

A pink tinge colored Ismena’s cheeks. She bowed her head.

“It is my honor and privilege,” she said.

~C~

Nyx toyed with a bouquet of daisies, another token from another suitor.

“Daisies,” she said disdainfully. “Why not send me dirt?”

Ismena raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She lowered her head, and continued cleaning her blade.

Nyx plucked off a petal. “He loves me...”

“He loves you not,” Ismena said.

Nyx frowned. “That’s not how the game goes. You have to pull off another petal first-”

“I know how the game goes, Highness.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“None of them love you, Highness. They don’t even know you. They only know your lovely face, the fine form of your body. The extent of your dowry, the extent of your father’s kingdom.”

Nyx flushed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re just jealous; you don’t have any suitors.”

Ismena lowered her eyes, her cheeks drawing in.

“It is my job to protect you, Highness.”

Nyx threw the bouquet at Ismena. Daisies rained around her; Ismena did not even flinch.

“And who’s to protect me from you?”

~C~

Nyx managed to reach the castle gates before being stopped, but, she realized later, Ismena had probably been trailing her the whole time.

“You can’t,” Ismena said, the moonlight shining off her braid. “Highness, it isn’t safe.”

Nyx tossed her head, a restless colt. “I’m going off to see one of my suitors; you wouldn’t understand.”

Ismena steeled her jaw. “It isn’t safe.”

Nyx shrugged. “Come along, if you like. You’ll see; nothing will happen!”

~C~

Smoke curled from the dragon’s nostrils like steam from a kettle. Ismena’s blade caught the light, flashed bright as lightning as she drew it from her scabbard. Ismena’s hand pressed through the gossamer layers of Nyx’s gown, pressing her back. Nyx could feel the shape of Ismena’s hand on her skin like a brand.

Ismena put herself between the dragon and Nyx, and she put her sword between the dragon and herself. Ismena pushed Nyx back: Nyx let the momentum take her until she hit the cool rock of the wall.

Fear thrummed in her veins, making her flesh weak. She shook, but even through the unsoundness, she could feel the memory of Ismena’s hand against her, pushing her back. Nyx watched the muscles in Ismena’s bare shoulders bunch and expand, watched her long braid swing as Ismena’s body moved in response to her sword, in response to the dragon.

Ismena’s skirts billowed and swelled, raised on the hot breath of the dragon. The hems of her skirts scorched, charring black and smoldering here and there, like sparkling gold and topaz. Ismena parried; she thrust; the serpentine tail of the dragon wound tight and unraveled as Ismena drove the beast back against the wall. Ismena’s body twisted like a ballerina’s, and Nyx was mesmerized by it.

~C~

The dragon’s breath had left Ismena’s skirts in tatters, a lace curtain draped across her legs, showing glimpses of skin. Without thought, Nyx slipped her fingers through the holes, brushing her fingertips over Ismena’s skin. Ismena froze, like Nyx had in the dragon’s lair, petrified.

“You saved my life,” Nyx said.

Ismena opened her mouth to speak, but the automatic response froze in her throat. She closed her mouth, dropped her eyes.

Nyx wrapped Ismena’s curls around her fingers. She pulled Ismena down by her braid, and kissed her.

Ismena pulled back, eyes wide. “I- my- Highness-”

“Don’t worry,” Nyx whispered. “It is my honor and privilege.”