Ballads of the Forgotten: Chapter 1:

Her hands were soiled. She heard his dying breaths and looked up to look at him.

The steady intelligent gaze she sent his way, broke his skin in goosebumps. He had never been looked at, directly like that. She was sowing paddy and her clothes were muddy. Sweat had made them cling to her body. The half-translucency made it possible for him to see a strong, well-shaped body. The slight muscles bore every inch of her determination and hard work. If there was an earth goddess, he thought she would come close to how she would look like.

Born of the earth, working in the earth.

But what was enticing him to look squarely at her were her eyes. She was looking at him, her eyes full of a deep understanding and calm indifference. He was a person and she, as another person acknowledged that.

But he was dying. He had spent the last two years plotting to take down his own kingdom, which went to his younger brother. Unable to take the humiliation, he had, along with a few conniving yes-men, plotted to kill his younger brother and his family.

What a foolish man he was. He was now lying in a ditch, backstabbed by those same nobles who had put ideas of treason in his head. His brother's love was lost to him.

And moments before his death, he was falling in love with the loveliest woman he had ever seen in his life.

For finding a half-dead man in a ditch, the

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woman was not the least bit startled. In fact, her eyes were focused and determined. He wondered if she were really a simple farmer. Wiping her hands on a dirty piece of cloth, she pulled herself out of the field and walked toward him. He noticed that she had a limp.

She began to say something as she reached him, but he could hardly hear her. She might have understood that, so she put her arms under his shoulders and pulled him out of the ditch.

He marveled at her strength, her nonchalance, and the way she wasn't disgusted by him. If it were someone else, perhaps... She placed a hand over his forehead. It was cooled by the earth, but her heat returned to the skin, and it almost felt like his skin was burning.

And at last, he could hear her voice, "Do you want to live?"

The sky was white and blue. The branches of trees shivered in the golden light. Even with his dimming eyes, he could see the birds fluttering and the squirrels scampering about. His throat felt dry. All he wanted to do, could do at that moment was to look at her. It didn't matter to him if he lived or died. He was fine as long he could look at her. It'd be nice to look at her in his final moments if he died. And if he lived, he would spend his life making sure that she had a good life, be it beside him or not. And so, he poured his life and soul into the brown of her almond-shaped eyes.