She knew who he was, though she had never met him. She dreamed of him often. He was the sun to her moon, the end to her story, the kiss to wake her from sleep. His name had been Jack, or John; and he had blue eyes. This much she remembered. She could not say how long she had been sleeping, and so did not know how long it would be until forever ended and he would arrive at last, radiant like a god, his armor discarded. He would not need it with her, once the witch was vanquished. The thorns would fall from her roses at his touch. What was his name?

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