Keeper of the Night

I'm the Keeper of the Night
She said with no emotion in her voice.
It's a job filled with the struggle
To keep away the light.

I'm the Keeper of the Night
She said with a note of pride
To be entrusted is an honor
I protect darkness with my might.

I'm the Keeper of the Night
She said, her words tinged with sorrow
I carry the heavy burden
Of forever fighting blight.

I'm the Keeper of the Night
She said in a weary tone
It's been a long assignment
To be the night's white knight.

I'm the Keeper of the Night
She said in a bare whisper
I don't know how long I'll stand
For this battle against white.

Here's the set up. There's a war filled nation. The country is weak and in constant turmoil with itself. It's an old political war in which no family, no matter how royal, is safe. In fact the only way to have any chance of survival is to be completely ordinary--or at least act like it.

The eternal civil war refuses to accept any outside help, and strangely enough they are still resilient enough to repel any external attempts to annex their country. They are a proud bunch and refuse to be taken over or receive help from any outsider.

Of course, one will agree that this is hardly the right setting to raise a baby--a daughter that has the blood of a princess. Yes, she could be raised to be ordinary, but she could never look it. This one was too different. It was her features and those bright green eyes. Green eyes simply weren't common unless one was royal. She looked too much like her grandmother that had been taken in a raid. Sometimes there was use trying to hide what one was. Her grandmother could wear peasant clothes and be covered in dust, but she would never lose that regal air and just stand normally. She was royal no matter what she wore.

The mother of the green eyed daughter feared that her baby would be just like her grandmother. There was no hiding her.

And so she did the unthinkable. She took her outside the border ad gave her away...

The Best?

How to determine wrong or right
Is a matter of perspective

When is it mere appreciation
Of something's simple attributes

What is it that parametrizes
The perfect combination

You and I don't see eye to eye
So what is the better flavor
Decided by you or I?

She was infuriated. Her fingers clicked against the keyboard with intent and she glared into the screen intensely. Every so often, her fingers would stop clacking and she would give a great sigh. She'd close her eyes for a few seconds then open them and begin typing again with a renewed fervor.

Jonathan honestly had no idea why she was upset. Vikki was usually never upset. Vikki was always happy. In fact, the entire office was baffled by this occurrence, but no one dared to go near to ask what was wrong. Those great sighs were simply too ominous to risk such a venture.

Jonathan felt guilty. He didn't know why. As far as he knew, he hadn't done anything to upset her. However, of everyone there, he was the one who knew her best, although that wasn't saying much. Nevertheless, it was on his shoulders to try to find out what was wrong. The casual acquaintances of Vikki hummed intently in the background, speculating on what would happen when he finally approached. It wasn't their duty to be the canon fodder. They were the spectators. Lucky, lucky acquaintances. Jonathan decided he would never be friendly again.