The castle was huge. And empty.  Echoing vast halls, untouched, unlived in, unloved.

Knights and Princes came over the years, to seek the princess of legend.  Or perhaps because they were curious.  Or perhaps because they wanted a castle to live in. They wandered through, searching dungeons, turrets and plush banquet halls.

She gave them carpet to walk on, or just cold stone.  She lead them through mazes of passages, staircases, to dead ends, further in or repeatedly out, out. Out.

He can feel she is close… like she is right there.

He calls out to the woman he has come to rescue.  The woman of legend, of myth, of his dreams.  The woman who will make him famous, and make him a king of her castle, of her bed, of her heart.

With his sword and his dagger he rips through tapestries, looking for secret passages that are never there.  He hammers in doors, splintering ancient wood.

He can hear her crying. He gets more frantic, more angry, more violent.

Never guessing that she is the carpet. She is the tapestry.  She is the door. She is the portraits, the turrets, dungeons and the banquet halls.



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