She appeared over the rise of green hills and yellow meadows. Against the sunlit backdrop of cloudless sky stretching to the heavens. The blonde locks of her hair become a halo, billowing against the soft breeze. An angel set upon the Earth. Even as the glint of iron armour bulks around her form, dulled sword thrust into the ground as though seeking to claim the hill, there is a softness to her. A beauty unlike any I had seen, and she stood strong as a great warrior.
In the distance, beyond the wave of hair framing her face, an army stands still. Silent. Fearless. These are her demons, each one her weaknesses manifest. Fear. Hatred. Anger. Loneliness. Sadness. Her past and present interwoven around her, threaded by the dripping scarlet-strands joined to her heart, unraveling the slowly beating organ. Leaving a void within and a protective cocoon with-out.
Before her I stand, hand outstretched to feel sword that gleams as her eyes. Armor-less and sword-less I become the strength of the blade firmly planted at her feet. With willing smile I impart myself to it, its sheen suddenly ready to crush the earth. Soft words of adoration become a single swing against these demons that threaten to overwhelm. Ears that listen to her words shoot gleams of bright light, washing over the protective shell she weaves.
Each swing against the enemy now strengthens her. Each cut dwindles the number of demons, threads of what once was winding back to reform her heart. I become her hope. Hope that banishes fear and hatred and anger and loneliness and sadness. Hope that reshapes her present and strengthens her future. Hope in the fiery passion that flows between us like the rivers of life, filling the void of her heart as we unite as one.
I as the only army she requires.
I as her hope.