As the years passed, the princesses continue to be visited by the trusted one. In truth, he seemed the perfect hero. As the wages of war become more fierce and bloodied than was appropriate for their tiny minds, he would show up and sweep them off their feet with promises never kept, but always believed. As soon as the batttle started to escalate, the younger princess would begin to dress for his visit. And the older to pray that he would not come this time; though she did not have words to express why dread gripped her. All she knew was that she felt ill in anticipation of his arrival and stupid as he rode away leaving a trail of lies behind him she had digested willingly. Each and every night she would draw her oversized shirt around her promising that when she was the queen there would be no more war.

In time, the preferred attire became the protective armor that the older princess sought. Strong-willed. Stubborn. Uncooperative. The character of the princess was in question. Evil gripped her throat and mind, silencing them both. Even Merlin's magic seemed too weak to combat the reputation of the trusted one.

Amidst the desperation, lived a flicker of an unseen Spirit she could not name, urging her on, providing a glimmer of hope that there was victory to be had at the end of the war. So,day after day, she would carefully prepare for battle, venturing out only to train quietly. Survival became serious business. The search for armor that would disguise her status as princess was a key strategy. A pony tail exchanged for a page boy. Jeans swapped for sweatpants. T-shirts replaced by oversized sweatshirts even in the heat of summer. A satchel of books. Bindings to hide other evidences. A ball glove and cap completed the picture. Until there was no sign of a princess to be found.