#nulla | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

msriri030 · 2 months ago

Text

The Black Knight ( Nulla x reader)

Medieval au. I tried lol. I hope you like it. Masterlist

Golden chandeliers cast a warm, ethereal glow from above, their crystal facets refracting light like stardust across the grand ballroom. The high, vaulted ceiling was a masterpiece in itself, painted with celestial portraits of the night—galaxies, constellations, and glowing moons in delicate hues of indigo and silver. The air shimmered with the soft hum of string instruments and the laughter of nobles who danced and schemed beneath the candlelight.

The floor teemed with a kaleidoscope of silks, velvets, and jewels. Nobles paraded their wealth in hopes of catching the eye of Bishop Septem, who would soon name the four chosen to stand beside Emperor Unum as royal consorts. Others traded veiled words and wine-soaked promises, hoping to forge power in the form of strategic alliances.

To Sir Nulla, the decorated knight of the empire, it was all meaningless noise.

He slipped away from the celebration, retreating to a balcony that overlooked the palace gardens. The cool air of the night caressed his face, far more genuine than the false warmth offered by the sycophants inside. The stars above seemed infinitely more honest than any noble he had spoken to that evening.

He rested his hands on the marble railing, gaze lost among the constellations.

Emptiness. Nonsense. Nothingness.

The feelings coiled tight inside his chest, familiar and bitter.

“I am nothing,” he whispered to the night. “Nothing but a walking corpse in polished armor.”

He had seen too much, done too much. The blood on his hands would never be fully washed away by victory parades or medals.

Just then, a voice—soft and almost melodic—broke through his thoughts.

“Oh? I thought I spotted someone who felt the same way I did.”

He turned quickly, his eyes narrowing out of reflex, ready to scold whoever had dared disturb him.

But then he saw you.

You stood at the threshold of the balcony, bathed in moonlight like a vision from a dream. Your attrite, a radiant shade of yellow, shimmered as though woven from sunrise itself. Delicate floral embroidery bloomed along its hem, catching the breeze as if alive. Your eyes held a curious warmth, something unafraid, something real.

His irritation evaporated in an instant. His jaw slackened, and a faint blush touched his tan cheeks. For a moment, all words failed him.

“May I join you, sir?” you asked, stepping onto the balcony with a small smile.

“N-Nulla!” he blurted, flustered. He coughed to recover his dignity, then straightened his posture and extended his hand. “Pardon me… My name is Nulla. And yours, if I may be so bold?”

“(Y/n), Sir Nulla,” you replied, placing your hand delicately in his.

He took it as though it were made of glass, brushing his lips to your knuckles in a gesture so tender it startled even him. Your eyes widened, surprised by the gesture, but you didn’t pull away.

A small, rare smile played across his lips. “Just Nulla is fine, mi flor.”

His voice was low and reverent, as if he were addressing something sacred. And perhaps, to him, you were. For the first time in years, the darkness within him stirred—not in anger, but in longing.

And somewhere between the candlelit chaos behind him and the stars above, the man who had thought himself a corpse felt his heart beat again.

Your fingers lingered lightly in his, neither of you in any rush to pull away. The distant music from the ballroom filtered out onto the balcony, but here in the cool night air, it felt like another world entirely—one you both didn’t quite belong to.

“See, Nulla… you speak with such melancholy,” you said, your voice soft, like a lullaby carried on the breeze. You stepped to his side, gazing down at the palace gardens, their hedges and roses glowing faintly under the moonlight. “I can’t help but wonder what pain you carry. If I can aid one of the emperor’s most loyal knights, even a little…”

His smile wavered, that ever-present sorrow flickering in his eyes like a dying candle. He didn’t respond right away, instead letting silence bloom between you as he looked up toward the stars.

“Mi vida,” he finally said, his voice quiet but rich with emotion, “I carry a great weight. Regret, sacrifice… things that can never be returned. It is the price I pay.”

You frowned, your expression softening with concern. Your eyes searched his face—he was handsome, yes, but the true beauty came from something buried beneath that stoic surface, a haunted nobility shaped by wounds you couldn’t yet name.

He seemed to notice your sadness and reached forward, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered there, gentle. “But I would pay that price a thousand times over… if it means protecting people like you from ever knowing that same pain.”

“Foolish knight,” you muttered, looking away with a small pout as heat crept into your cheeks. You hadn’t meant to be swept up in this—your father had practically dragged you to the gala, hoping you'd charm some noble into a political marriage. And yet here you were… captured by a knight with tired eyes and a warrior’s heart.

Nulla chuckled, low and deep, and leaned closer to steal a glance at your expression. “I think you’re the foolish one.”

You arched a brow. “Oh? How so?”

He turned his attention back to the ballroom, his gaze settling on the emperor, who sat high in his gilded chair, his three wives gathered around him like stars orbiting a sun. Servants and nobles danced to win favor. “You aren’t like the others. You’re not trying to catch the emperor’s eye. Don’t you find all this… exhausting? The politics, the performance?”

You tilted your head, considering his words. “Hmm… I don’t find him annoying, but he doesn’t catch my attention either.”

Nulla blinked, then looked at you sidelong. “Then what does?”

You smiled, just enough to tease. “Someone like you, I guess.”

His breath caught, and he looked away quickly, color rising to his cheeks. “Idiot…” he murmured, but the word held no real bite—only flustered warmth.

He stiffened subtly as he caught sight of movement near the ballroom doors. Bishop Septem stood there, watching them. For a moment, their gazes locked. The bishop's expression was unreadable, but there was something calculating in his eyes before he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Nulla’s jaw tensed, and he dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Something wrong?” you asked, voice quiet.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he offered you a strained smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The stars shine brightest before they burn out… Sometimes, I wonder if I’m already fading.”

You reached for his hand again. “Then I will make sure you don’t.”

And for the first time in many years, the knight who believed he had no heart… felt it stir again. As if it fears something precise that needs to be let go.

Nulla looked at your hand in his, his grip loose at first before he tightly his grip. He wants nothing more for you to stay by his side.

Forever.

He didn’t speak as you led him, hand in hand, back toward the gilded doors of the ballroom. But something inside him shifted—something ancient and aching, now ignited with dangerous warmth. The weight of his armor felt suddenly lighter with your touch, though his mind grew heavier with thoughts he couldn’t quite silence.

As you stepped onto the marble floor, music curling through the air like golden thread, you turned to face him, your smile soft and trusting. Too trusting.

Nulla held your hand with a quiet reverence, bowing low before pulling you into a graceful waltz. But behind his composed expression, something darker flickered beneath the surface.

Mine.

The word echoed like a vow inside his chest, a silent oath wrapping around his soul like chains forged of longing. He watched the way your eyes sparkled in the candlelight, how your laugh rang clear and untouched by the rot of court life.

He would protect that light. At any cost.

“You fit here,” he murmured as he spun you, your dress twirling like sunlight across the polished floor. “Too brightly. It makes me wonder if this place even deserves you.”

“And yet,” you whispered back, meeting his gaze, “here you are, dancing with me anyway.”

A muscle in his jaw tensed, but his voice remained low and tender. “Only because I can’t bear the thought of anyone else doing it.”

The orchestra swelled, but the world around him faded. There was only you. Only the fragile warmth you offered his cold, guarded soul. He knew then—whatever hollow had lived inside him was gone. In its place, something dangerous had bloomed.

Devotion. Possession. Love.

And as you smiled up at him, unaware of the storm quietly blooming behind his eyes, Nulla thought only one thing:

Even if I must burn with you in the end… so be it.

It wasn’t long before the grand hall began to quiet, anticipation hanging in the air like perfume. The main event was about to begin—the long-awaited announcement of Emperor Unum’s fourth and final spouse.

The orchestra fell silent. A hush rippled through the crowd as Bishop Septem stepped onto the dais, his crimson robes billowing like blood in water. Nobles and hopefuls gathered at the center of the ballroom, their jeweled eyes glinting with ambition, desperation, and dreams spun of gold.

You remained off to the side, tucked under the arching shadows of a marble pillar. Nulla stood beside you, arms crossed as he leaned against the cold stone, his dark armor gleaming faintly in the candlelight. Yet his attention wasn’t on the ceremony—it was on you.

His gaze lingered on the way your eyes lit with curiosity, the way your lips parted in wonder. The crowd could have erupted in flames, and he wouldn’t have noticed.

He leaned closer, voice low. “Let them scramble over each other like peacocks on parade.”

You chuckled, patting his arm. “It’s starting. Who do you think it’ll be?”

He exhaled through his nose with a scoff. “Probably some snouty rich prince or a simpering noble who bathes in perfume and gold. The type who’s never seen a battlefield, only ballrooms.”

He paused. His jaw tightened slightly.

“…As long as it isn’t you.”

You turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Did you say something?”

Nulla blinked, his expression smoothing over like silk. “Nothing, mi vida,” he said with a soft smile, though a storm brewed quietly in his heart.

He couldn’t lose you—not to the Emperor. Not to anyone.

As Bishop Septem began to speak, his voice rang with rehearsed grace, echoing off the marble walls of the grand ballroom. He listed titles, virtues, and praises with ceremonial flourish, yet all Nulla could hear was the pounding of his own heart.

The chandeliers above glowed like stars caught in a gilded cage. The scent of sweet wine, expensive perfumes, and candle smoke drifted through the air, mingling with the tension that clung to every guest like a second skin.

Beside you, Nulla stood stiff, shoulders tense beneath the polished armor that now felt like a coffin. His hand hovered beside yours, the back of his fingers barely grazing your knuckles. A touch that meant everything and nothing.

Please… he begged in silence, eyes closed for a breath. If any god walks among us, if fate has ears—listen to me now. Let them be mine. Let me have just this one thing in my cursed life. I ask for nothing else… just them.

But silence was the answer the stars gave him.

Bishop Septem’s cold, empty smile widened as he held a pristine white scroll between gloved fingers. “It is with great honor that I present to you… the fourth and final royal consort of Emperor Unum.”

The parchment unfolded with an elegant flick.

The name was read aloud.

“(Y/n) (L/N) of the Kingdom of Sol. Please step forward.”

Nulla’s world split open.

You froze. Time halted. Every pair of eyes turned to you, and the grand ballroom grew still, as if holding its breath. Even the music had died.

“No…” Nulla whispered, but his voice was too soft to reach anyone but the void.

You could feel your chest tighten. You weren’t a fool—you knew what refusal meant. You had seen what happened to those who said “no” to the empire. Death, disgrace, or the disappearance of your entire bloodline.

Your legs moved before your heart did, numb and mechanical. The crowd parted for you like waves parting for a sacrificial offering. The golden carpet underfoot suddenly felt more like a path to the gallows than a place of honor.

Emperor Unum stood waiting, tall and regal in silver-embroidered robes that glimmered like moonlight on a blade. His expression was serene, beautiful even, but utterly devoid of true warmth.

“Shall we dance?” he asked, his hand extended in a gesture practiced thousands of times before. As if you were just another name on a scroll. Another jewel in the crown.

Behind it all, hidden in the archway between ballroom and balcony, Nulla stood frozen, his fingers curled into trembling fists at his sides. His nails bit into his palm until they drew blood.

Not my vida… not like this.

His scream stayed inside him—silent, trapped in a chest that suddenly felt too tight to breathe.

No one noticed the way he slipped into the shadows.

No one except Bishop Septem.

The bishop’s eyes followed him as he vanished through the side halls, quiet and purposeful, like a shadow returning to the night. His lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

Out beneath the moonlight, where only the wind bore witness, Nulla collapsed to his knees in the gardens. Silent tears streaked his face, each one born from the ache of a heart long thought dead.

They took you from me.

And from that hollow ache, something darker bloomed. Not sorrow—resolve.

It had been years since you married the emperor.

A vow formed beneath his breath, low and final:

“If I cannot have you, I will tear this empire apart to take you back.”

It wasn’t terrible—not in the way stories speak of tyrants and loveless beds—but it was hollow. A quiet ache nestled beneath every gilded moment, every courtly smile. You stood now on the palace balcony, eyes cast over the sprawling kingdom bathed in golden sunlight, yet your heart wandered far from its throne.

You missed him. Nulla.

That one night lived in your memory like a dream etched in gold, burning brighter with each passing year. He had vanished afterward, as if swallowed by the wind, and despite the life built around you, your heart still reached for his.

You sighed, letting the sun warm your face… just as the peace shattered like glass.

Smoke billowed into the sky—thick, black, violent—blotting out the blue in cruel strokes. Your breath caught. High above the palace, the emperor’s crest—a phoenix rising from flame—was engulfed in fire. It crackled mockingly before crumbling into ash.

Screams followed.

They echoed across the marble halls like a chorus of ghosts. From your high perch, you saw guards rushing to action, swords drawn, shields raised. Noblewomen fled in panicked clusters, their gowns trailing behind them like broken wings. Flames danced through drapes and banners. The heat licked at your skin even from afar as your white-knuckled grip clenched the balcony rail.

What is happening?

But deep down… you already knew.

That familiar emptiness in your chest—where longing had quietly nested all these years—twitched like a string pulled taut. And then, above the chaos, a name reached your ears. Whispered in terrified reverence by a fleeing servant:

“The Black Knight… he’s returned.”

Your heart stopped.

Nulla?

You stumbled back from the balcony, breath shallow, chest heaving. The guards outside your chambers were gone, called away by the turmoil. Alone, you crossed the room to the mirror, where a stranger stared back: adorned in jewels and imperial silk, but still—so unmistakably hollow.

With trembling hands, you tore the shawl from your shoulders, casting it aside.

Then the doors crashed open.

The sound thundered through your bones.

And there he stood.

Nulla.

But not the man you remembered.

Gone was the noble polish of a loyal knight. Blackened steel clung to his form like a second skin, jagged and unforgiving. A crimson mantle trailed behind him, soaked in smoke and blood. A cracked mask dangled from his belt. His eyes—once warm and filled with wonder—were colder now, sharper. Deadly.

But when they met yours… they softened.

Just for a moment.

“(Y/N),” he breathed, your name a sacred prayer. His voice was lower now, roughened by time and war. “You’re alive... you’re safe.”

You stepped forward, trembling. “Nulla… you’re here…”

He crossed the room in a heartbeat, as if distance itself bent to his will. His gloved hand cupped your cheek, metal brushing your skin—cold, but his touch still sent warmth flooding through your veins.

“I’ve waited,” he whispered. “I’ve burned for you, mi vida. And now…” He turned his head, gaze sweeping the distant chaos beyond your chamber walls. “Now I will burn this empire to the ground if it means I never have to be apart from you again.”

You stared at him—your heart’s only home, standing like a storm at the threshold of your royal life. The man you were told to forget had returned not as a memory, but as reckoning.

He searched your face, desperation cracking through his calm. “Will you come with me?” he asked, voice raw. “Will you leave this gilded cage… and run away with me?”

The world stilled.

Your heart answered before your lips could.

Tears welled in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks in quiet surrender. You nodded, voice breaking with emotion. “Yes, Nulla. Please.”

A rare, aching smile broke across his face—and then his lips were on yours.

The kiss wasn’t the stuff of fairytales. It wasn’t gentle or chaste. It was fierce. It was hungry. It was real. Years of yearning, of grief, of love never extinguished—collided in that one breathless moment.

He exhaled against your mouth like he’d been holding his breath since the day fate tore you apart.

“I thought I lost you,” he murmured, his forehead pressed to yours. “I thought they stole you from me… forever.”

You shook your head, hands fisting the blood-red cloth on his chest. “I never stopped waiting. Every day, I prayed you’d come back.”

Another explosion rocked the palace—deeper, louder this time. The golden sky was gone now, replaced by fire-red and smoke-black. The end of a dynasty painted across the heavens.

Nulla pulled back, urgency blazing in his eyes. “We don’t have long. The emperor’s elite will regroup any moment. I have to get you out—now.”

He took your hand—and you didn’t hesitate.

You kicked off your jeweled slippers, the cold marble sharp beneath your feet, but it grounded you in your choice. No more crowns. No more cages.

Only him.

You ran through the palace halls beside him—his cape trailing like shadow, his sword gleaming with menace. With every step, the life you once knew crumbled behind you.

Jewels. Thrones. Duty.

Gone.

Only the arms of your lover remained.

54 notes · View notes