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"I, Scara, the princess and lawful ruler of the Monaco kingdom, hereby knight you, Carla of the North, as the head of my personal guard." The princess lowered the sword onto the knightess' armoured shoulder, the atmosphere solemn and silent.
She despised long, formal ceremonies where too many people were present -- especially if the matter concerned her safety. The room was too big to her liking, the walls decorated with paintings of past monarchs. Scara held the sword with determination, patterns and exotic flowers carved on the handle. The candles lit up the grand room, the throne behind the princess glowed in the fire.
Carla, kneeling, lifted her gaze, looking up the princess' white flowy satin dress, and recited the oath in deep and raspy voice:
"I shall serve you, day and night, the protection of mine shall be as resilient as the walls of this castle, as long as the throne of Monaco stands."
"I accept your oath, the honourable knightess."
She sheathed her sword with a loud clank, echoing in the empty room.
A small smile sprang on Carla's face, but was quickly overtaken by the neutral and formal expression. Her eyes, though, still possessed this mischievous sparkle.
The princess exited the room, the train of her dress skimming the wooden floor.
The knightess followed suit, silent and shadow-like, as it should be, yet her hair was shining in the candlelight and the sheath of her sword was ornamented with birds and angels, too prideful to belong to a simple knightess.
Nothing about her was simple nor ordinary.
*****
The days passed without highlighting any particular moments in the array, like a flock of nondescript gray birds. The princess participated in many meetings, which she did not find boring because they were concerning her people. Scara ruled justifully, with care about ordinary people, which was unheard of in the kingdom of Monaco.
Since her ascension to the throne, she introduced many new reforms, such as reducing taxes, replacing hereditary succession with an elected mayoral system, and changed the composition of the Senate.
As she sipped on her cup of herbal tea, listening to the report of the minister of finance, Carla, on the other hand, was clearly irritated. She eyed the tall bookshelves without an inch of interest, scoffing under her breath every time one of those prim and proper senators made a remark or interrupted the princess. How dare they!
She brushed off the thought momentarily, though. It was none of her business, even though her breath hitched every time the princess cast a graceful, fleeting glance towards her direction. She was standing near a big window overlooking the fields, now covered in the milk of fog. On sunny days, the princess would wish to go on a horse ride, and the knightess always accompanied her, silent yet heeding to every thought and sentence Scara said.
The assembly seemed to end now, all the senators gathering up their piles of paper, ink bottles and pens, until there were only two of them left in the room. The princess exhaled deeply, resting her head in her hands.
Wrinkles on her forehead deepened, the eyes now dull of exhaust and expression neutrally polite – Scara was clearly tired.
Carla took one of the candy jars from the nearby side table and approached the princess carefully. She placed the jar near the paper covered in notes and schemes, saying softly with a pinch of concern:
“Your Majesty, I think it is time for you to rest. Dinner is in two hours, so candy might help you restore some energy. Do you need any water?”
Scara unwrapped one caramel and put it into her
mouth, leaning against the velvet chair.
“Thank you, Carla, I am good. Too much information for me.”
“These old prigs are always so pompous and full of themselves.” Carla scoffed.
The princess giggled, unwrapping another candy, now seemingly more relaxed.
“You don’t like them?”
“They are just- Sometimes outright disrespecting you. This is improper.”
“This is nothing, Carla, you should not concern yourself with this.”
“As you say, your Majesty.” Carla replied in a neutral tone, awkwardly standing between decorations, flower vases and books scattered.
Scara unwrapped one candy and said, standing up:
“Close your eyes and open your mouth.”
She clearly was enjoying the confused expression
on the knightess’ face, sly smile on her lips.
“What are you-”
“Just trust me for once, okay? These are illegally good.” The princess was murmuring now, her carefully manicured fingers an inch from Carla’s plump lips.
Carla followed the order obediently, lowering her eyelids. Her heart hammered loudly, like a church bell in the morning, her ears nearly vibrating with the volume. A blink later she felt sweet caramel in her mouth, the princess’ slim fingers sweeping on the skin of her cheek for a mere second, leaving marks that stinged, burned, reminded of this moment forever, lingering like a scar from angel’s wings that were ripped away and sewn back.
“So, how is it? Do you like it?”
Carla, unhurriedly chewing on the dessert, muttered:
“You were right, Your Majesty, it indeed is very sweet. Thank you for your generosity.”
“You are welcome. Also, stop with these annoying formalities. I still can’t get used to being called “Your Majesty”, so just call me Scara when we are alone.”
Carla nearly choked upon hearing this. Blush spread on her cheeks like a drop of paint in clear water.
“But this is- Unusual, to say the least.”
“We know each other pretty well now, so what is the point in clinging to old rusty traditions?” Scara seemed absolutely unbothered by this, picking up books to put them into the rightful positions on the shelves.
“As you wish, Your Ma- Scara, I mean.” Carla replied, turning away so Scara wouldn’t be a witness to her shame.
She faced a tall , clear glass mirror, reflecting her long brown hair, her white linen shirt and a chain mail. She left her armour in her chambers, as it was very heavy to wear in daily life. She also had her leather sword belt and the legendary blade sheathed.
*****
This blade was wielded by generations of knights before her, and when she was departing from her home, her mother, now elderly, placed the sheath in her young, inexperienced hands and said:
“Many have been deemed worthy to use this blade before me, and before your grandmother, and so it is natural for it to be passed down to you. May it serve you well and its strength never leave your side, treasure it as your own self and the knight’s most precious trait, which is-”
She halted, waiting for an answer from a young woman on a white horse, wearing her mother’s chain mail and a bow on her back.
“Dignity. Dignity is the knight’s most precious trait.”
Carla accepted the blade, weighing it hesitantly.
“Yes, my dear. Please, be careful!” Tears appeared on the woman’s face standing on the doorstep of a standalone house near The Great Forest.
“I love you!” The girl replied, gazing up at the bright, cloudless sky.
“May the mother goddess close her eyes three times, keeping your journey peaceful and your schemes forever concealed.” The mother
murmured watching the horse galloped away.
The sun smiled at her, flowers lifting up their corollas, a wonderful smell lingering in the air.
The day surely was beautiful.
*****
Carla fixed the hem of her long sleeves, unconsciously glancing at the princess’ slim form, framed by white dress with a lace trim. She resembled a fairy now, airy, soft like a swan down, dancing in the sunrays while waltzing from one side of the room to another.
“Carla, we have to attend a village celebration tomorrow morning, don’t forget, please.”
The knightess turned around, flustered, pulled out of sweet, sweet memories.
The princess was now checking her little notebook,
putting check marks near the completed tasks.
“Yes, Your- Scara. You wanted to attend the archery competition.”
Scara closed her notebook shut, shocked.
“I forgot! I forgot to practice archery today and the coach is on sick leave!”
Carla approached the princess quickly, taking her white and soft hands reverently.
She couldn’t stand any sign or hint of fear at Scara’s face, her heart froze like the Southern Lake whenever the princess was worried about any little thing.
Scara blushed, suddenly so aware of their proximity, of the feeling of thick callouses on the knightess’ palms, her calm and caring stare that seeped into the true depths of her soul.
“It is of no big importance, I can help you practice. The fog is clearing out, the conditions are perfect. You are naturally talented, so there is no need to worry.”
Scara lowered her face, a delighted smile taking over uncontrollably.
“Thank you. I really value your- Help and support.”
Carla nodded, still holding her hands like it was an ordinary thing on an ordinary Saturday afternoon.
*****
When the sun came out from behind the clouds, lighting the vast fields and the archery range, Carla took her trusted bow made of black wood out of the closet and shut the door, heading for the stairs. The princess attended a few more meetings but assured her that her presence was not necessary, leaving some more sweets on the bedside table. Carla was still staring at them, mesmerized, her touch, ever so light, never landed on the gold-coloured wrapping, hesitant. She hid them in her trinket box, where mismatched earrings and loose gems from old jewellery were stored.
These were her little treasures. Carla lifted the lid, letting the sunrays hit the smooth surface, the metal and stones glistening. She sifted through the charms, smiling to herself. Every piece stored a story, connection, warmth, and now the sweets were a fine addition to her collection.
The knightess closed it and hid in the bottom drawer. Through her hair the brush glided, coaxing each lock into place. Even though she was preparing for a simple archery session, akin to hundreds she had passed through her training days, it inevitably felt special, like a piece of genuine gold among piles of zinc.
******
Bow in her hand, a quiver of arrows secured to her belt – Scara was moving through sophisticated corridors and staircases with an assassin’s mastery, familiar with the castle from her very first days.
She managed to bypass servants unnoticed and unobstructed. Her dress, though, was no help at all – having changed from the gown she wore to formal councils to a simple pastel-coloured one, she still was attracting attention. The fabric was easier to handle than silk or velvet: a high-quality linen, her maidens said.
“Your Majesty, you have-” One of the butlers seemed to have recognized her, but she quickly pressed a finger to her lips, nodding towards the door to the fields.
The man tsked in disapproval but smiled gently, departing with a small bow.
Scara giggled to herself, slipping through an old oak door with rusty hinges, embracing the sunlight and warm breeze tossing her hair from side to side. She saw Carla standing in the middle of the pitch, holding her bow with determination and firing arrows right at the center of the target. Her heart fluttered helplessly, like a bird caught in a cage too small.
*****
“Wow, that was the third bullseye hit in a row! I really need to follow your example.” Scara
exclaimed, joining Carla and taking out her bow.
“The secret is in utmost concentration and full body control. With a clear mind, arrows fly true.” The knightess replied, taking another arrow and aiming at the mannequin to their left. Swoosh!
The arrow was stuck right in the shooting dummy’s heart. The arrowhead sank completely into the straw, upright and direct.
“See?” The woman turned around, looking at Scara taking out her arrows, gilded and well-polished.
“That was…” she stuttered, suddenly unsure of her word choice.
Great, phenomenal, amazing – all of this seemed neutral, formal, conveying no emotions, plain and dull. To express an ocean of feelings that has been stirring inside her for a long time seemed unbearable. The right words sat on the tip on her tongue, heavy with truth, but dangerous, ricky.
“Professional. I am very amazed.” She said, tone as flat and unbothered as her trembling heart allowed.
Carla nodded curtly, picking up her arrows and discarding all the equipment. Scara heard footsteps behind her, and the next second Carla’s hand was on her shoulder, guiding gently.
“Your stance is good, you’re doing great. Just a little right, like this. Shoulders straightened, eyes on the target.” Carla was literally murmuring at this point, her breath grazing the soft skin of the princess' neck.
Scara turned it a little, lifting her chin up and raising her posture, fingers between the bowstring and the arrow.
“Better. Your arrow won’t fly straight, you aren’t aiming directly where you are looking because you are gripping it too much. Relax a little.”
Carla’s raspy and mellow voice sent shivers down her spine, firm yet lacking severity. She eased her right hand, taking a deep breath.
The princess let go of the arrow, hitting the red mark at the center of the target confidently.
“See? I told you, posture matters. Let’s repeat this ten times more to strengthen the knowledge.”
Carla gave her a reassuring smile, stepping back.
With a quiet whistle, arrows pierced the air. Scara took out one arrow after another, measured and accurate, aiming at the bullseye. Happiness spread in her chest, uplifting; sun’s glitter-filled rays skimmed over her dress, brown hair and the confident stance of her shoulders.
She laughed out loud, looking at Carla standing nearby.
“We did it! It is the first time I landed all the shots perfectly!”
Carla didn’t even try to hold back the smile this time – she knew it was pointless.
“You are very talented, Scara, there was no moment I hesitated to believe in you.” She said with a big smile.
To hear her name spoken with gentleness amidst a praise was like honey to Scara’s ears, utterly heartwarming.
*****
The celebration had already begun when Scara and Carla, unnoticed, arrived at the town square, decorated with flowers and colourful ribbons. Among the attractions the archery competition stood out – the goal of their shared adventure.
They departed early, packing up lunch in the small bag. Scara was sleepy, scrubbing her eyes discreetly – she had been reading most of the night, too engulfed in the newfound romance book to notice the time.
Carla was chewing on an apple absentmindedly while sitting under a big tree, watching as Scara prepared for the shots with the other archers. Yesterday’s training was very fruitful indeed, the princess completing all the shots with precision. The princess had fired a few test shots, clearly satisfied.
Scara scanned the mixed crowd, clearly looking for Carla, and when her gaze landed on a figure under a tree that anyone could describe as typical, devoid of any uniqueness, but to her eyes, Carla shone like a diamond under the sunlight seeping between the branches.
Their eyes locked for a fraction of a second. It felt like they were stuck in an hourglass, each one in the separate bauble, the sands of time flowing between them leisurely, like a river in a valley where no stones could hinder its path and no slopes could hasten it. Scara was touching the fragile glass, reaching out to embrace her love-
Wait, embrace who?
Scara blinked once, twice, forcing herself to come back to Earth. Everyone around her was moving – farmers selling crops, archers preparing, children running with the kites, but Carla was still there, looking at her.
Scara once more felt as if a thin yet resilient wall was separating them. She stood unmoving, trailing her hand on the feather of her arrows to ground herself.
Carla smiled suddenly, blush spreading on her tanned cheeks. At this moment, Scara knew – she was the prettiest in the whole world, soft wavy hair contrasting with cold metal of the armour she insisted on wearing, sparkling eyes and the smile…
Oh, this smile.
The times Scara had subconsciously thought about her genuine, cheeky smile were innumerable. Her heart desired to break free from the prison of her ribcage, to unite with its destined half, fluttering and fluttering.
“I love her.” The truth burned as clear as a flame in her mind, entwined with remnants of fears and doubts that ignited the second Carla smiled.
*****
The evening fell quickly, surrounding the castle in darkness after the golden light had faded away. Scara was reading, as usual, in her night gown with several candles lit up. The flame fluttered, casting long shadows on the wood.
She traced the ink-stained lines, paper rough beneath her fingertips – the book was very old, with the cover torn in half, restored only thanks to the efforts of the castle’s masters. The windows were open, letting in the smell of nightflowers and the hooting of owls in the forest.
She heard an unexpected knock and closed her book, getting up. Opening the door, she saw Carla, standing before her with a sword on her belt and full armour, which was unusual for the hour.
“Good evening, what’s up?” Scara asked, smiling brightly.
The knightess answered with a smile.
“I have thought about one particularly interesting thing, just… The forest is mesmerizing at night, especially the, the glowing trees! I wanted to admire them with you.” Carla muttered, holding out her hand in an invitation.
Scara didn’t even hesitate – she held her palm gently, with a promise.
“I never visited the forest, to be honest. I am glad to do this with you.” She slipped on a dress made of pale pink velvet, short enough to run freely and hid a dagger under the top, as a safety measure.
Scara was putting her hair up using pins with porcelain white flowers when the thought lit up in her head: what if this was a date? Maybe, Carla does feel the same way for her, carrying gentleness and love underneath the thick armour. Her heart trembled with the thought, grasping any hope or possibility, and she forced herself to get up and face the knightess standing near the door.
Carla was tracing the handle of her sword, looking up at her when the princess approached.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, I also have a dagger, for extreme cases.” Scara reassured her, following suit to the back door.
“I will protect you, no matter what. Do not worry, I’ll fight till the very end.” Carla murmured, voice steel-sharp and unyielding.
Scara exhaled, hearing those words – she felt safe, knowing that Carla is on her side, that the knightess’ sword is drawn for her protection.
The exited the castle, following the hunters’ path to The Great Forest stretching out before them. The night was quiet, only the rustle of the leaves in the wind and occasional bird calls. Scara felt uneasy in the darkness, regretting leaving without taking a lamp. She tensed involuntarily, looking out for any lurking shadow, but soon enough, a soft glow appeared between the trees ahead.
Carla exclaimed:
“There it is, I found it! Hurry, they only shine under the moonlight.”
She took the princess’ hand and sprinted off, navigating between bushes and stones easily. Scara felt an irresistible happiness taking over her entire being, and she squeezed Carla’s hand, letting the skirt of her dress flow as they ran.
When they stopped before the glade, out of breath, Carla noticed a small, abandoned tower to her right. It was once an outpost, now surrounded by glowing vines and grand trees, secluded and empty.
“Hey, there is a tower up ahead, if you want to rest there.” She pointed in the building’s direction. Scara nodded, her legs aching from the sudden sprint.
“Scara, are you okay? Did you twist your ankle?” The knightess approached her, noticing the hesitation.
Scara waved it off, standing upright and breathing heavily.
“Just need to catch my breath, I haven’t run like this for a while."
“Like what?”
“Freely. Just running because you can, to feel the wind flow in your hair, just… Let go for a moment.” She confessed, moving towards the tower through low bushes.
“That’s why I go here often. I like the breeze, the quietness, the calm. I have never been in this part of the forest though, it is unfamiliar.”
“Oh? How do you navigate here so well, then?”
“I saw, you know, the fireflies. They are attracted to light a lot so by following them we either end up back in the village or in the Garden of Life, here. This area is called the Garden of Life because no monster can enter it. That’s why I took you here, to- To talk. Safely.”
Carla laid her heart open, all the secrets and thoughts raw and visible, giving in to the gentle hold. Talking was not her best skill, she was fluent in the language of sword and arrows but a conversation was what they needed.
Scara hummed, entering the destructed tower and going straight for something that once was a window. She was an angel now, shining and pure compared to the dark and rusty bricks. Carla approached her, coaxing a strand of hair behind Scara’s ear. The leather of her gloves felt rough against the cheek, and she took them off, cupping Scara’s face.
The princess was blushing, eyes lowered innocently yet a shy smile on her lips. Carla felt their joined heartbeat fastening, pulsing with love, with immense adoration.
“Oh, you are so, so beautiful, I can’t help myself.” Carla uttered, finally closing the distance between their faces and savouring the caramel taste of her lips.
Scara exhaled softly, hands hugging at the waist, pulling closer to never let go. Their lips collided yet without haste – Carla moved like honey, languid, taking over Scara’s thoughts, all of her.
The first kiss was viscous and drawn out, hesitant: both were testing the waters, unbelieving of the happiness that had finally descended upon. Scara said in a hushed tone when they parted, her hands circling Carla’s neck:
“I love you so much, I want to be with you, I-” She stuttered, lost of words, but Carla continued:
“I want to have you, all of you, to hold you in your sleep, to be there when you open your eyes. Just- Be with you, that is enough for me.”
Scara looked right into Carla’s eyes. She couldn’t get enough of this, drowning in them, the colour of freshly-made pastry, a worn-out book, a forest at dawn, brown with gold and glitter.
It was too beautiful.
She smiled, relieved. Scara could finally breathe freely, without watching every single gesture not to slip any of her feelings into conversations. Carla hugged her, gently resting the princess’ head on her shoulder, pressing a kiss on the hair.
“I can’t believe this is really happening, I just can’t. This doesn’t feel real.” Scara whispered.
“It is very real, cariño. I promise you.” Carla murmured, kissing her on the nose.
Scara giggled, plucking a bindweed flower from the wall and putting it behind the knightess’ ear. The petals were a soft pink, matching with her dress and the colour of Carla’s cheeks.
*****
They stumbled into the room, kissing fiercely. Carla devoured Scara’s plush lips, sliding her gloved fingers down the waist, framed by the petite dress. Scara breathed out roughly, her eyelashes flattering. She locked the room hastily while Carla abandoned the cold of her armour near the dresser, staying in a plain linen shirt.
Scara turned on her heels, pressing her finger to her lips.
“We have to be quiet, the guards are at the end of the hallway.”
Carla blew out the match, lighting up another candle and putting it on the bedside table, coming closer to the princess, who was untying her dress.
“Let me help, love, you’re so clumsy.” She purred, sliding her hands down the fabric of the dress, unbuttoning it quickly, revealing a thin nightgown beneath.
“Oh…” Carla gasped quietly, her breath hitching.
Scara, blushing, tugged at the knightess’ shirt, her heart beating so loudly it echoed in the room filled only with long exhales and gasps of pleasure whenever her lips left another wet kiss on the exposed neck. Carla felt so, so raw before Scara’s adoring gaze, her soul on the display like gems in the shop, transparent, glistening on black velvet. She pushed Scara to the bed, smiling into the kiss. The touches stuck to the skin like tattoos, drowning in white sheets.
“You’ll have to be very, very quiet, yes, cariño?” Carla whispered against Scara’s chest, tracing lines with her tongues as the princess writhed in pleasure beneath her, small moans spilling free.
“Yes, yes, just… Please, take it off.” She pleaded, nodding to the gown.
Carla shook her head, instead taking the lace-covered sleeves off, exposing the delicate shoulders and giving more access to the sweet canvas of Scara’s skin. The princess was beautiful, no doubt, but the picture laid out before her was deserving to be depicted in a Renaissance painting. She was the only goddess Carla would get on her knees and pray, worship selflessly, even though she was never religious.
Scara dug her fingers into the waves of gorgeous brown hair, biting on her lip so hard a streak of blood trailed down her white her skin not to let out any moans whenever Carla’s wet tongue rolled over her hardened nipple, sucking and teasing. The knightess looked up with a smirk, admiring Scara’s flushed face and ruined hairstyle.
“You look straight from a wet dream, that’s intoxicating.” Scara said, dragging Carla nearer to kiss her on the lips.
Heat pooled at the bottom of her stomach, making her skin ignite and nerves tingle with every touch, threatening to elicit lustful moans, and Carla must have felt it too – the way she was so sensitive. She trailed her hands along the soft curves of Scara’s body, taking the linen off completely. Scara covered her face in shame, noticing how Carla’s gaze licked all of her, devouring, passion spilling over the edge. Carla cupped her breasts, giving a light squeeze. Scara whimpered, desperately trying to be quiet even though this task seemed impossible when a woman this seductive basically worships you.
Carla teasingly touched her folds, pressing kisses to the belly and enjoying the sounds Scara was making – so pathetic, but so hot. She pressed on her swelled clitoris harder, pinning the hips down to restrict any movement. Carla carefully inserted one finger, sucking on the right nipple, their shared heat circulating in her veins, a catalyst to the desire. Scara removed the pillow, breathing in heavily, face all red. Her legs trembled with the intensity Carla was moving her slender finger inside of her, she was barely able to keep her hips in place.
“I shall serve you… Day and night… pleasing you however your majesty wishes… All yours to take.”
Carla purred in her ear, biting on her earlobe and listening to the gasps and pleas from Scara.
The princess couldn’t hold back anymore, exhausted from the suffocating pillow and lips all blood and bruises; her unrestrained moan was a hymn to Carla’s ears, high-pitched, breathy and sensual. She trembled, the orgasm advancing closer and closer. The thoughts left her head, only Carla’s face permanently engraved, her wet lips, the roughness of her skin, the elegance and worship in her movements.
“Carla… I’m begging you, please, I’m so close.” she sobbed.
“I know, darling, I feel you. Let go, come for me, so beautiful.” Carla murmured, voice ragged and hoarse.
Scara hid her moans in a pillow when the wave hit her, unyielding and delightful, shaking her violently. She breathed in and out, in and out, trying to compose what was left of her, unsuccessful. Carla laid beside her, a smile on her face. Her fingertips graced the redness of her cheek, gentle, like a flower’s petal. Scara rolled onto her, kissing and biting her lower lip, fierce and reverent at the same time. The mischief sparked in her pupils, and the princess descended lower, parting the knightess’ thighs and placing a hickey on the underside, marks of saliva in the wake of her lips trailing up.
Carla shuddered, grasping the sheets so desperately her knuckles turned white. Scara reached her cunt, leaking and needy, and licked a long stripe, savouring. She was unrelenting in the matter of pleasuring knightess, no matter how hard Carla tried to break free from this sweet torture. She pressed a hard kiss on her clitoris before sinking her tongue, grabbing Carla’s thighs once more.
Carla let out a moan luckily muffled by a pillow, speaking in a hoarse voice:
“What are you- Dear God, what are you doing-”
Scara didn’t let her finish by sucking on her clitoris, drawing out delicious moans, feeling her squirm on the bed. Her fingers left burning marks on the underside of thighs, and Scara would lie if this didn’t make her horny a little bit.
You could never own a person, but have a person so devoted to you, so obedient, loyal is basically the same. She was drunk on the pleasure that wasn’t even hers, eating Carla out like her life depended on it. The knightess tried to move once more, stopping mid-action. Scara’s moves were getting more rough, uncaring and desperate, her hands moving up to pinch the nipples between the fingers, dragging out rewarding moans.
Carla came with a whimper silenced, hands scrambling for purchase, to steady herself. Scara lifted her head, lips glistening. The knightess grabbed her by the neck, trailing her tongue on.
Both breathed heavily with foreheads pressed.
*****
The birds in the forest chirped quietly, the wind rusting the leaves of petunias planted on the balcony. Both lay in bed, cleaned up, holding hands awkwardly like teenagers in the dark of an alley. Scara removed a stray lock of hair from Carla’s eyes, kissing her temple. The knightess was already falling asleep, blinking slowly.
“Sleep. I will be here when you wake up.”