"What?" roared the king.

"Father! Please! Listen," said Laura.

King Lionel of Musk was the Eighteenth Monarch in his line. And he wasn't happy. Not happy at all. In fact, he was livid. His only daughter, Princess Laura, was talking gibberish.

"No!" roared Lionel. "That's nonsense! You can't be a knight. You're to marry one! Are you mad?"

Princess Laura hung her head and sighed. This had been going on now for far too long. She had finally gotten her nerve to bring up the matter with her father, and all she'd gotten from him was platitudes and pompous posturing. This was getting old. She thought he hadn't taken her seriously since her mother, Queen Ely, had died. For every fight or disagreement between them, bigger and bigger gulfs widened under their feet. And this was just one more foot of that gulf.

"Father, please," Laura repeated. "Why won't you listen to what I have to say?"

King Lionel stopped his pacing and stared at his daughter. "Listen to you? That's what I've been doing. What I've heard is crazy."

Lionel couldn't quite get his head around what his daughter was saying. As far as he was concerned, it was just gibberish, nonsensical sounds spouting from her mouth. She hadn't been making much sense, since ... since ... well, since his Ely had died. It seemed he was constantly making excuses for her actions, her being young and not knowing what she wanted to do with her life, besides being a princess, of course. She needed direction. She had been like that for some time now. First, it was fashion: what dress was appropriate, what hair style, what jewellery, what shoes; he knew she must have a hundred pairs of shoes, and yet she only wore two. Two. What did anyone need with a hundred? Such things not only reflected on her, but also on him as a king. Then it was her trying to help every homeless person and vagabond in the kingdom, which, thank the gods, her duties as princess interfered with. She had to be reminded the church was there for that very reason. She couldn't do it alone. Laura had a big heart, which he loved about her, but she had to realize how the world worked and how to cope with her responsibilities. But this! This! Lionel had always known she was fascinated by the knights, since she was a little girl, but actually wanting to become one—no! Absolutely not!

Lionel continued, "I forbid it!" It was time she grew up, and for him to stop indulging her every whim. "I forbid it! No princess can be a knight. You are to marry one, not be one!"

"But, Father," Laura cried, "this is what I've always wanted."

"No! No! No! I forbid it!" Lionel roared again. "No daughter of mine, for that matter, no maiden, has ever been, or ever will be, a knight. And you'll not be the first."

With that, the audience was over, with Laura being no closer to her dream of being one of the knights of the king's guard.

* * *

That had been the scene in the throne room not two hours ago, just after Princess Laura's seventeenth birthday. No matter what she said to her father, the answer was 'No! No! No! You cannot be a Knight. You must marry one!' Not likely! But she just couldn't convince him to let her try for the king's guard.

Standing in the middle of her rooms, she fumed and grimaced. She wanted to start throwing things, have a good old-fashioned temper tantrum, maybe fling a piece of crockery, or the ugly handcrafted mug, love struck Jonathan had made for her when she was five.

Laura remembered the first time she'd seen the guard practicing maneuvers in the courtyard. She'd been seven. She remembered it vividly, couldn't get it out of her head. Through all the years, she'd known her father would hit the roof if she mentioned something like this, but she couldn't help it. It was all she thought about. Her forays into fashion or helping the homeless or anything else she'd done, through all of it, this had always come back to haunt her. She'd gone down to the kitchens to beg another small portion of food from the head cook and all around grump, 'Martha', and upon getting nothing but grief instead of food, she'd turned to storm back to her rooms, and a flash of light caught her attention from the gray-streaked window sitting off the pantry. She remembered clutching at the old weathered lintel staring at Sir Hook, Sir GuWayne, Sir Guy, Sir Dwayne, and so many others, marching in step to an unheard rhythm. Their swords flashed in the noontime sun, making sparkling fairies fly over the castle walls. Dust from their feet ballooned up behind them like a dust devil, covering their feet and shins with a light coating of brown. Sweat beaded along her brows as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. It fascinated her. What were they doing out there? Why did they have all their armor on? Wasn't that supposed to be for show? From that day on, she knew only one thing, she had to be a guard in the king's knights, the most respected, renowned, and loved knights of all the five realms. She had to!

That was, until her father squashed her dreams.

But Laura wasn't so easily dissuaded. If she couldn't do it with his permission, she'd do it without his permission. Laura figured what her father didn't know wouldn't hurt him. All of her life, she'd been pampered and spoiled, doing anything she wanted, going where she wanted, and getting anything she wanted. Anything, of course, within reason, or what the queen mother thought was in reason. She'd everything a girl, being a princess, could possibly want: money, clothes, and fineries of every shape, color, and description. She went to all the right balls to meet all the right nobles, to have all the right connections, to make the perfect marriage. She even had her own carriage with foot soldiers to do her every bidding, but with all that, still Laura was unhappy. With all she had, she didn't have what she really wanted: a direction in life. But she did now. Laura wanted to be a knight, not just any knight, but a knight of the king's guard, the elite of all knight's of the kingdom. That was her dream.

The king, however, had other plans: wanting Laura to marry a knight, love having nothing to do with it. Yeah, right! She'd been forbidden! Forbidden! To follow what in her heart she knew to be true. She'd show him exactly what she thought of his plans; she'd show him she wasn't a little girl any more.

She was disappointed and miffed; her father wasn't listening or even considering what she wanted. Weren't kings supposed to be understanding? Weren't they supposed to help their people if they could? Encourage them? Support what they wanted? Weren't fathers supposed to encourage their children to do better things in their lives, to make something of themselves?

Turning towards the doors to her rooms, she could barely make out the peek of a shadow of the guards outside. She didn't have handmaidens like other princesses; she had footmen and guards. She'd often wondered if there had been a rule somewhere about royalty saying she should have maidens in her rooms instead of footmen. Thinking of that just made things worse. She stamped her foot, fists clinched tightly by her sides, getting no satisfaction out of it. If there was a rule somewhere, couldn't there be a rule, or maybe an unknown, unused law to force her father to at least rethink his stand?

Wait! He was the law. He was the king. He could make any law he wanted! She shook her head almost immediately after thinking such a thing. No, he was too stubborn, or...