#royal fantasy

[rs-hawk]

(Yandere??) Enchanted suit of armor obsessed with his Princess, even centuries later. Every time you're reincarnated he finds you. It's been awhile, but he has a sixth sense about it. After all, he was created with the sole purpose of keeping you safe. Who cares that now he has to battle a "boss" and something called a "boyfriend" to keep you safe?? When you're finally reborn again, he breaks out of the museum he's been in to come find you. Sure it might take awhile, but he will find you, and ensure his Princess is safe.

And this time, he knows you'll finally let him keep you. All for himself. Yes, it's been centuries, but the sight of yourself being impaled on his steel fingers has never once left his mind.

[lyrinami]

Amber Chamber Teleport

[candlemouse]

Heir to Light

96k words, completed, Garreth/Kendra, Ao3 & Wattpad

Medieval fantasy / Teen And Up Audiences

Relationships: Garreth/Kendra Sorenson • Eve & Seth Sorenson • Kendra Sorenson & Seth Sorenson • Garreth & Kendra Sorenson • Ronodin & Seth Sorenson • Patton Burgess & Seth Sorenson • Vanessa Santoro & Kendra Sorenson

Characters: Kendra Sorenson • Seth Sorenson • Garreth Dalgorel • Eve Dalgorel • Warren Burgess • Vanessa Santoro • Patton Burgess • Lord Dalgorel • Ronodin • Muriel Taggert

Additional Tags: Princess Kendra • Prince Seth • Happy Ending • Magic Revealed • Kendra POV • Seth POV• Alternate Universe - Fantasy • Alternate Universe - Royalty • Alternate Universe - Medieval • Patton Burgess Lives • Slow Burn • Angst • Minor Character Death • Magic • Romance • Political Intrigue • But like. Fantasy kingdom politics • BAMF Kendra Sorenson

Princess Kendra and Prince Seth were the heirs to a lovely kingdom—well, up until three days ago. With no available refuge after their kingdom gets sacked, the royal sorcerers and their companions try Terrabelle, their neighboring kingdom.

The target doesn’t fade from their backs, however—it only becomes hidden. With the curious Dalgorel children, who knows how long that façade will last?

If Kendra and Seth can’t brave their stay at Terrabelle, they may never regain their kingdom—or their grandparents.

Prologue

There was value in staying in the shadows. Seth knew this. Gleaning information and untangling motives was much easier when your subject didn’t notice you.

Rain slipped off his itchy coat as the city’s walls slowly solidified in the distance.

People always asked why he didn’t challenge his sister for the heir title. What a dumb question. First off, he loved his sister. Second of all, why would he ever want to relinquish his freedom and spend his life languishing in castle walls?

As it turns out, his languishing in a castle was about to happen anyway.

Meters away from the gates, the horses ground to a stop.

Moonlight glinted off his sister’s golden diadem as she removed her hood, letting raindrops seep into her hair. Seth surveyed the castle walls barring their entry. A lone sentry peeked through the gate tower.

The sentry had to shout over the thunder of the storm. “Who goes there?”

“Princess Kendra Sorenson, heir apparent of Fablehaven. Four of my associates join me.” Unlike the shouty sentry, her voice commanded the heavens without straining. “I request an audience with your king.”

Silence mingled with thunder as the sentry ducked out of view. Raindrops slipped off Seth’s hood as his horse shuffled in its step. “Steady, Noble.”

The sentry reappeared. “Where is King Stanley, Princess?”

“My grandfather’s whereabouts are not the concern of a sentry. Send for your king. It is urgent.”

“One moment, your grace.” With a flash of lighting, the sentry disappeared behind the tower.

Despite the disappearance of the guard, eyes were still watching. Seth could spot two peasants behind the gate, in the shadows of the lower town, spying on the royal court. He pulled his hood lower.

“Are you alright, Seth?” His valet shouted from behind him.

“Yes, thank you, Patton.”

The gates scraped against the muddy floor and revealed three men on horses. One lowered his hood, revealing a young man around Kendra’s age with a crown on his head. “Greetings, Princess Kendra. My name is Prince Garreth. I will escort you to the stables to leave your horses.”

“And then to your father, I presume?” Kendra pulled her hood back up, shielding the golden diadem from sight.

Lightning lit up the night—almost as bright as Prince Garreth’s smile. “Of course, my lady.”

The journey to the stables was fraught with security risks. He trusted Patton to always protect him of course, but the narrow road had forced the eight horses into a line. Rain and a weak crescent moon obscured the path. Thunder and the gossiping commotion of the common people peeking out their houses muffled any warning signal. Terrabelle was the most fortified destination, but it most certainly wasn’t the safest on the inside. Especially for certain people in their party.

As soon as the lanterns of the stable were in view, servants rushed forward to untack the horses. Seth leaned down to Noble’s ear. “Be a good horse.”

Mud sprayed from his boots’ impact to the ground. Patton joined him.

Sloshing, they made their way over to Kendra. Warren and Vanessa were already at her side.

Though their official titles don’t say it, the Head Chancellor and Kendra’s Lady-in-waiting all had trained as knights. Although Patton hadn’t, his time as an adventurer more than made up for it.

Garreth was already speaking by the time Seth took his spot next to Kendra. “—he’ll meet with you, Kendra, and our servants can lead your court to a common room for the night.”

“Actually, we’d all like to meet with King Dalgorel,” thunder paused Kendra. “We’re all seeking safe refuge.”

Garreth’s smile froze. “Of course. Anything for a lady as beautiful as you.” Seth almost snorted. “This way.”

The prince led them through the stables to a door that entered into the main castle. The walls were polished up to the high ceiling and decorated with flags and animal heads. There was no doubt in Seth’s mind that there was a shorter path to the throne room, but Garreth just wanted to lead them through the most impressive halls.

Water dripped from their wool coats onto the stone. Everyone’s hood was off now, revealing a silver crown upon Seth’s unruly hair.

“I admire your kingdom’s many conquests,” Kendra spoke to Garreth.

“Our kingdom is very powerful,” Garreth agreed. “You’ll be very lucky if the King grants you amnesty.”

The group stopped at an ornate door a mile high. Flickering firelight cast an ever-changing shadow over the door’s jewels and carved adornments.

Venom coated Kendra’s smile. “If?”

Garreth didn’t spare her a glance and pushed the door, splitting it in two. “Oh, look, we’re here.”

They had finally made it into the throne room.

Now, it was only a test of if they’d be allowed to stay.

Continue on Ao3 or Wattpad

[moonrosalie]

꧁✬◦°⋆⋆°◦𝒜𝓈𝓇𝒶𝒾 ℳℴℴ𝒹𝒷ℴ𝒶𝓇𝒹◦°⋆⋆°◦✬꧂

Nimfa wody.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/376042522-maskarada-%C5%BCywio%C5%82%C3%B3w-carole-przesilenia

[reincarnated-villain-princess]

Flirting with the Villain's Dad

Source: Tapas

Creators: via, dalseul

Synopsis: Ack! I'm trapped in this webnovel, "Brigitte Wants to be Happy!" No prob, I KNOW what's gonna happen so I'll just—wait. I'm not Brigitte? I'm her aunt, Princess Yerenika?! Uh-oh. I'm stuck 20 years before the main plot... and everyone in my generation ends up tragically dead! Her parents, dead. Me, dead. Villain's dad, King Euredian, dead. A-ha! That's the key. I just need to prevent the villain from being born... time to break out some seduction schemes and flirt like my life depends on it!

Status: On going (march '24)

My rating: 4 - 🍓🍓🍓🍓

Images: Soleia (villain), Laurus (???) and Terry (priest)

Our FL, Yerenika, is reborn in a world she got to know about in a story she read in her past life; only she gets there twenty years before the story she read about begins. Her sister is currently pregnant with Brigitte, the future protagonist of that webnovel she liked and the girl who will be the one sided love of the future villain, the son of the King of Bellacourt and the dark mage Soleia. To save her new family, one of her favorite characters –Euredian King of Bellacourt– and herself from a tragic ending, she decides to take her sister's place in a nearby event that sets the horrible future into motion. Like that, Yerenika prepares to be kidnapped instead of her sister by the Euredian and be taken to Bellacourt as a hostage due to both Yerenika's father and Euredian having an unsolved political issue. Her plan? Use her time as a hostage to make Euredian, the future father of the original villain, fall in love with her and prevent the villain from being born.

I love this story for two reasons. Number one, Yerenika's character is very strong, and doesn't allow anyone to intimidate her. She's a woman on a mission to save the world, and she doesn't care how dense or annoying she has to be because there are more important matters at hand right now, people will die if she doesn't succeed. She's very determined and a little bit strategic, it's fun to see her try and try and try again without falling despirited to Euredian's cold heart, she's not after his love because she's enamored with him after all.

I will admit that later in the story there are things about the way she refers to others that I don't like as much, there are points where she becomes a little bit mean maybe. It doesn't happen as often so I just ignored those particular parts and kept going, but I thought maybe it would be necessary to point that out since I don't seem to be the only one who perceives it that way. I think it's part of her strong character, I just think it could have being approach differently.

The second thing that I really liked about this story is the two main character's dynamic. There is a third party in play, Soleia –who I really liked too–, Euredian's fiancee and the mother of the future villain. Soleia needs to marry Euredian as part of a plan of revenge against the empire, so of course when Yerenika comes around trying to steal his attention she has to be wary of her, but I personally never saw her as the main obstacle for Yerenika's and Euredian's relationship.

Euredian could be seen as the typical ML with a heart to defrost, but the reason he can't let his heart waver is because he takes his role as the king very seriously. Even when he comes to like this silly princess that is also very suspicious as to why she insists so much on marrying him, he can't just drop his responsibilities to his empire and its people, all the things he was taught since childhood, because of her. Not to mention that he's aware of the danger it would represent for her if he ever showed he cared for Yerenika. Euredian needs to marry Soleia as part of his responsibilities, and he's aware Soleia might harm the princess if he tried otherwise. So what makes the main obstacle for these two people to be together is how their stubborness and goals collide: Euredian wants to be a responsible and dedicated king, Yerenika needs him to to give that up to save the future. It's fun because the conflict that keeps their wills fighting it's presented in a way that feels genuine, and also because it eventually evolves in this dynamic where both are conscious that they like each other, but Euredian can't give everything up for the sake of love and they both begin to feel powerless about the situation.

I like Soleia as a villain. She has a story behind her that led her to a bad path, she made bad choices but she doesn't regret it, she's too filled with anger to regret anything. Laurus, a deity of this universe that comes into play later on, is someone I find very entertaining as this all powerful being that just wants to be left alone but suddenly cares too much about this random princess from another universe.

I would like to add that in this story in particular the fact that the FL comes from another world is important to the plot. Not only does her soul not completely align with her body, causing her to be sick most of the time, but it also comes to be a problem later on when her body starts to reject her, which was also very interesting to read about.

I like the story, the illustrations and the side characters. I didn't feel it was boring at any point. I will give it four strawberries. The story is still on going but I can feel it being close to the end (I'm about on chapter 140). I fully recommend it!

[istherofangood]

Title: Sigrid

Isekai Type: Time Travel

Is it good?: No.

Notes:

I dropped it at chapter 28. It's basically Actually I Was The Real One but worse. The Male Lead looks cool but he lacks charm (I preferred either of the two friends. They had way more charm).

The MC is extremely boring. She's meant to come off as naive (despite the atrocities she's committed, the woman is a war criminal.) but she just comes off as stupid and she doesn't do a single interesting thing in 28 chapters.

[itzmasq]

How about a sneak peak into one of my novels? 👀

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The sun is setting over the horizon as two people stand at the top of a cliff overlooking a sprawling city below, the lights of which stretch into the valley as far as the eye can See. The setting sun casts a golden glow over the landscape, illuminating the city and its towering buildings and castles. The two people are the king and queen of the land, and they stare out at the view in silence for a moment before the king finally speaks, “How beautiful and expansive my kingdom truly is. Even after all this time I am still awe-struck by its splendor.”

“But with its beauty also comes great responsibility,” the king says, as his expression grows more somber. He turns to look at the queen, who is also observing the landscape before them. She smiles sadly at his words and nods her head in agreement. “Yes, the responsibilities of ruling are never-ending,” she says. “We have to be ready and willing to do whatever is necessary to protect and defend our kingdom, even if it means making difficult decisions that may be unpopular or hard to bear. I know that we are strong enough for the task though, and we will meet every challenge head-on.”

The queen looks over at the king with a look of warmth and endearment that only a lover can understand and shares. The king smiles back at her with a look of respect and admiration. “You are right, my love,” he says. “I am so proud of you and your strength and bravery. Together we will tackle any task, and face any challenge that comes our way.” They stand together in silence and simply enjoy the peaceful moment and beautiful sunset before them, the sun sinking slowly and gracefully below the horizon and the night's sky beginning to appear above.

“As the sun sets, a new day begins,” the king says. “And with a new day comes new challenges and responsibilities. We are faced with many tough decisions that will require us to be strong and wise. But I know, that together, we are up for the task.” The king and queen share a tender look with one another before turning back to look over the realm once more, together as one unit as they look out at all that they have accomplished together and all that lies ahead.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

Young Hero Sent On A Quest meets other young heroes also sent on various quests—only to discover they're all being used as free child labor by the same flaky wizard as a scam to collect magical artifacts.

the Young Heroes' collective new "Quest" is now to Unionize.....

[twinkietwistz]

› Yargaza ‹

CHAPTER TWO; RIDICULED

· Warning(s) - N/A

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Mesara questioned Yvette with a strong tone of disbelief and anger.

Mesara Yargaza, better known as the sister with the pure heart, stood before her sister with her sword in hand. She'd just gotten back from training. Yvette stood countering her with Astrophel by her side as he'd always been. Although standing a bit of a distance behind her, he was still set being her loyal companion, with her at every move.

"Killing father, letting the commoners burn his belongings and relish in his riches?" Mesara spoke while pointing an accusing finger at the barren room their father once slept in, "He may have been cruel, but this is far crueler than his actions have ever—"

Before she could say anything further, she stopped herself and let out a long sigh. Mesara looked at her sister with an almost disgusted expression to her face, "My sister," she began more softly, "I understand that—"

"Do not patronize me!" Yvette snapped loudly, cutting her off with a brutal interjection.

Her voice echoed through the palace with that simple sentence. It made the servants flinch. Not because it was unexpected, but rather because of the verbal abuse they endured while her father ruled over Eveena.

"You have no right, or authority to tell me what is cruel and what isn't involving that!"

"Authority?" Mesara scoffed, "Just because you are now empress, a forced one at that, doesn't mean we are any less sisters."

A glare was shot Mesara's way by Yvette, "Don't attempt to direct this elsewhere. We are sisters. And that means we support one another no matter what!"

"You murdered father!"

"And how many has he murdered?" Yvette retorted sharply. She barely let Mesara finish her quip.

Silence.

Mesara could only sigh in disbelief as she stared at her sister. She tucked her sword back in its designated holder, not saying a word to retort back.

"Now you obtain the silence you should've had from the start? Now your mouth is shut?" Yvette stared Mesara down with a scowl painted on her face, "I am sick of you defending father with your entire being. I am sick of you reprimanding me for giving father the treatment he deserves! You said it yourself, you yearned for his death. You prayed and cried to the gods he'd die so we'd suffer less!" Her voice rose the more she spoke.

Mesara just stared at her as her voice rose with every sentence, "You're an evil... Vile daughter. If mother were here, she would be ashamed." Her voice shook as she looked at her sister.

"And what was he? A saint?" Yvette shook her head as she scoffed, "Mother isn't here to shame me because she is dead, and he murdered her!—"

"He did not kill her!" Mesara groveled loudly.

"He did!" Yvette's voice overpowered her in an instant, "He did it and you know it!"

Her words didn't stop like they would've did in their past arguments before she executed their father and took his crown, "Is it all you're good for? Kissing his feet, even when his headless corpse is being eaten by bugs in the forest!" Yvette's protests did not waver. Mesara couldn't drop her protection over their cruel, vindictive father. No matter how bad he would get—Mesara's first instinct is to defend him.

"You are absolutely unbelievable... You claim we are no less sisters than I am empress, yet here you are trying to ridicule me for what I've done!"

"No, sister. You are unbelievable." Mesara said quietly. The look of anger faded from her face, now just filled with disbelief and hurt at Yvette. Mesara was hurt especially by her sisters actions.

"I cannot stand by and witness you do this... He was our father. Our flesh and blood, and you're just throwing him away like this!" Mesara gestured back towards the barren room—messy with the aftermath of Yvette destroying it. Maids were in the process of taking out the rest of it as their empress' orders permitted them to do.

Yvette let out a sarcastic laugh, "Is that supposed to make me feel some sort of way?" She asked while putting a mocking hand to her heart, "Are your words of him being our blood supposed to disregard how he treated us like nothing?... My apologies... Stefani and I like nothing. Because he treated you like his daughter... Like his little princess..." Her voice grew quieter as her words of their mistreatment.

Yvette shook her head—her eyes glazing to the floor momentarily before she looked back at her sister. A flash of hatred in her eyes, "If you cannot stand to witness this... My new era of Eveene... Then you are free to go."

Another tense silence crossed the palace. Mesara just looked at her sister with a look of hurt.

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat before she spoke again, "If that's what you want," the quiet words were forced from her throat, "then it shall be given, empress." She added bitterly.

Mesara proceeded to storm off silently. The tension in the air was still palpable, even when they'd stopped arguing. The maids didn't stop cleaning, but it got rather silent. Not a sound. Not one.

Astrophel silently approached the empress from behind. He seemed to hesitate faintly to speak, but otherwise he did, "My empress." That deep voice vibrated in his throat like an awakening from hell.

"What?" Yvette responded with a sharp, yet dull whisper.

"It has been a long day." he began cautiously. He knew how she could get when she was like that. But that didn't stop him from feeling some type of way about her, "Perhaps a bath while the maids clean will set you at ease?"

It took a moment for Yvette to respond--calming herself down before she spoke to him again. She turned around to face the tall beast. Her eyes glazed up to look him in the eye. Astrophel was quite tall, especially given how he towered over everyone like a monster. Even then, Yvette didn't fear him. Especially not after a decade of him being brought into the imperial palace.

"Yes. That sounds... Needed." She sighed.

Astrophel could feel his heart struggle whenever he laid those honey eyes on her. He bit his tongue as he watched her walk away. His eyes traveled down her form subtly from behind before he caught himself and darted his eyes back elsewhere. He went back, or at least tried, to being the stoic monster everyone considered him as.

A shadow watched him from the corner, seething as he caught sight of the beastly man trying to keep himself composed. Even if no one noticed it, the soldier Xaro did. An angry grimace wrinkled his features. He looked away before he'd let himself get mad, however.

The knight trudged through the imperial halls of the palace. His thick armor clanking on the floor made the other guards tense up harder into their positions. The air grew thick as he marched towards the War Room. The room they used for planning attacks, or planning expansion.

"A beast... Before me..." He grumbled to himself, anger rising by the minute, "That foul monster ruined what we had... My Yvette...."

He pushed open the door with a violent shove, making the others in the room flinch when he entered.

"Listen before me!" Xaro said firmly. The soldiers and one of the imperial doctors were there. They all stared at him, awaiting whatever words were going to be spoken.

"The beast. The one that sits by the empress' throne, Astrophel, that one!" He said in a stern, half-yell. The name ‘Astrophel’ spat out of his mouth like he was saying an ungodly slur. At least Xaro considered his name a slur to his tongue.

They all remained silent as the general soldier spoke with hate, and envy.

"He is a sinful, ugly, beast and I want him gone!" Xaro nearly shouted once more out of pure rage, and anguish. He slammed his hand down on the stone table holding the empires map. Their highness reigned over miles and miles of land--nearly taking over the entire north. There were only 4 more empires aside from Eveene. Ulessa, Targa, Ve'tmora and Llaoesy.

"He is nothing but a danger to the empire!... And the empress." He said in a snarl, "I want nothing more than to watch him die. Therefore, I am assigning an expedition to cause his demise..."

"...out of the empress' regards."

The other soldiers and the doctor listened intently to the generals planning. The murder of Astrophel. The beast, son of nothing, abandoned by the monsters that dared birth him.

A young boy, no more than seventeen, watched amongst the little group. His eyes were of a doe, a blonde haired boy with rosy tints, unfit for a soldier. His eyes were near black in color, yet his hair looked like the gold around the empress' neck. Theodore, was just a boy serving in the military.

He felt uneasy listening to the general ramble and talk away. He thought Xaro to be evil himself--but he wouldn't dare utter the thought out loud. Especially not to his face. Theodore seen general Xaro as a fierce lion. Scarred, strong, brooding. While he seen himself as the oryx calf he'd easily maul. Theodore was still a boy, and a bit scrawny at that.

The decrepit doctor seemed a bit hesitant to speak up after Xaro got done on his mini rampage, "General..." His old, weary voice just intensified the tension, "... I don't think we should—"

Then it came.

"You do not think!" Xaro snapped at the weary man, "You cannot even remember how many fingers you have on your hand! I'm shocked you're still an imperial doctor, you old, scornful..." There was a harsh scowl on his lips. Yet he let his words trail off with a grumble.

"Out!" Xaro snapped his fingers. They all went rushing out of the War Room. Except for the old man who tried his best.

Theodore seen this and gently guided the older man out of the room with his help. He held the old man's hand with a grasp as light as a dove's feather. It was as if he was afraid to hurt the old man.

"Thank you, young boy." The old man wobbled out. With the guidance of the kind boy, he made it out nicely. Except for the hard slam that rang behind them.

Theodore felt horrifically sick to his stomach. He felt the ill intention radiating off of his general. He felt this strong urge to run to the empress, but he knew Xaro would make it seem like he was lying. The punishments afterwards would be unbearable. So he bit his tongue and tried to go on like he didn't feel physically ill from the anxiousness.

[chaotic-orphan]

A Benignant Mischief (5)

Part one here

Continued from here

Back to my favourite Kingdom~

*~*~*~*~*

Cosimo managed to walk at a respectable pace with Henrik’s arm around him, supporting him as they followed the King’s trail through the palace. It felt nice to have freedom of movement in his arms, the iron cuffs were a welcome weight off his wrists.

This part of the palace looked less… formal. Less imposingly grand as the trial court had been. There were also less people, less humans, so maybe that had something to do with Cosimo’s sudden easement.

They turned a corner which opened up into a large room. Not as tall or grand as the court, but clean. Clinical. The walls were the same bone white, but three beds made up the back wall with cabinets full of bottles scattered around everywhere else, filling the space.

Nikolas was there, smiling and charming off the other grumpy human that could only be Artzet. He was taller than Nikolas, and where Nikolas was fair Artzet was dark. He had long dark, raven hair pushed back off his face, that stopped just above his shoulders. He had a wide face and a strong jaw, lined with dark stubble. His eyes were blue, when he turned his head to Cosimo and Henrik, like ice.

“Ah, there he is now,” said Nikolas with a smile, walking over to Cosimo and Henrik to stand beside them. “The man of the hour. He had a rather unfortunate arrival and I was hoping you could bandage his wrists from the cuffs.”

Artzet cocked an eyebrow at Cosimo, silent as the grave. He had a strange aura about him, unapproachable and stormy. His eyes flicked to Cosimo’s ears and Cosimo felt the shame rise in his face as he looked down.

“The boy’s an elf,” Artzet said, his voice like gravel, with a strange accent. Not unlike Henrik and Nikolas but certainly different. Foreign, like Cosimo.

“Yes,” said Nikolas brightly. “He’s a boy. His name is Cosimo, and he was mistreated in my name, Artzet.”

Artzet’s eyes were hard when they cut to Nikolas. “Don’t you usually execute elves?”

There wasn’t a malice in his words, nor anything else really. It was more… matter of fact, as if trying to glean understanding. Cosimo was dizzy with the range that humans came in. Evil, kind, happy, grumpy— and then Artzet who just… confused Cosimo.

Maybe he was going mad.

“Yes,” Nikolas replied in the same matter-of-fact tone. “Adult elves with intentions to kill me first. This boy is a child, Artzet. He doesn’t even know of our tumultuous history with elves.”

Artzet looked at Cosimo again with those icy eyes, calculating, searching Cosimo’s face for what Cosimo didn’t know. Then his face broke into a smile and it made him look a couple years younger.

“An innocent elf,” Artzet said with a bark of laughter and a shrug. “Well. It’s not everyday I get to treat an elf, please put him on the bed.”

Nikolas grinned in return, flashing his smile down at Cosimo and then patting Henrik on the back. “Marvellous!”

Henrik helped Cosimo over to the bed while Artzet milled around the room, humming a tune to himself. “You okay, kid?” Henrik whispered as he lifted Cosimo onto the bed.

“Yeah,” Cosimo replied, the room swirling slightly. “Yeah I’m fine.” Henrik smiled and grabbed Cosimo’s legs, helping him to stretch out on the comfortable bed and it felt so good. So nice and soft and warm. So unlike the cell’s cot.

Nikolas smiled at Cosimo from the entrance of the room. “I have to go and see to some arrangements about fixing you a room, Cosimo.”

Cosimo frowned. “A room?”

“Yes,” Nikolas said, smiling kindly.

“You’re not letting me go?”

The humans stilled in the room. Cosimo looked between Nikolas and Henrik, Artzet’s humming stopped. His heart was beating hard in his chest.

They weren’t going to let him go? What about? He had to save the boy and the fox he had to return to them, he had to—

Darkness encroached on the edges of his vision, Cosimo’s breath getting away from him and thrumming his chest in a staccato rhythm.

“I have to— I have to— my brother, I have to—” Cosimo wheezed, clutching his chest but it was no use. His thoughts were against him, his mind turning in on him and shattering. He couldn’t breathe. He had to—

Henrik was beside him, hand on his and squeezing. “Hey. Cosimo! Hey! Look at me, it’s okay! We’re not keeping you here. Cosimo!”

Cosimo’s eyes darted around the room searching for escape, everyone, everything was too close to him, the mattress too soft so he would struggle to run and could he even run?! In his state?

Icy eyes appeared in front of him and then smaller golden eyes. Cosimo stared, stunned at the furry creature that Artzet held in front of his face. Tears flowed in steady streams down his face but even then he couldn’t understand what was happening.

A cat?

It was a cat… Artzet… was holding a cat up to Cosimo? To take it?

“There we go. See? Everyone loves Myshka. Eh? Pet her if you like,” said Artzet with an encouraging nod. Cosimo lifted his hand and stroked the cat’s head. The cat purred under him, grey fur so soft and fluffy. “She is my nurse, helps me with all my patients. Isn’t that right Myshka?”

Myshka purred in reply. Cosimo let out a small happy laugh at her, as the grey cat curled up on his lap, content. Cosimo raised his head to see Henrik and Nikolas sharing a look of bewilderment. Cosimo swallowed, embarrassed at all the fuss he had caused.

“Mmm,” Artzet hummed in response to Myshka. “I agree. He is a lovely boy. Too tall for his age, but that means he will grow strong.”

“Cosimo.”

Cosimo looked up to Nikolas, who was frowning his brows forming a furrow at the top of his nose. His green eyes met Cosimo’s, with something heavy in them.

“You said…” Nikolas began then stopped, worrying his lip between his teeth. “You said you had a brother?”

Cosimo’s chest swelled again. He looked to Henrik who stared at him with the same tentative look that was on Nikolas’s face. So he must have said it. Cosimo didn’t remember saying it…

“You didn’t run away on your own,” said Henrik softly. Cosimo glanced down at the cat, fearing if he looked at anyone else he would start crying again. “Did you?”

Cosimo swallowed the lump in his throat.

Artzet spoke first. “Cosimo, if you wouldn’t mind stretching your arm here so I can clean it.”

Cosimo was happy for the distraction. His tongue had turned to sand in his mouth, too dry and thick and much. What would they do to the boy? To the fox? Would they kill them? Sure, Henrik liked Cosimo but that didn’t mean they liked elves. Would they put him in irons too? Force him to be in a cell? To stand trial, and then bandage him up again with an apology and an offer to stay and live with them.

“Cosimo,” it was Henrik this time. His eyes soft and trusting. “You can tell us, okay? We just want what’s best for you. And for your brother.”

Cosimo felt tears building behind his eyes. He couldn’t tell them, could he? He remembered during the trial, how Henrik had just stood back as he was tied down to an iron pole and it flared something angry in his chest. He couldn’t just tell them.

“If I tell you,” Cosimo said, tone guarded, shielding himself from the answer. He raised his head and stared straight at Nikolas. He had to hear it from the King. “Will you subject him to the same thing you did to me?”

The question seemed to suck all air out of the room. Henrik straightened, turning his body a little away from Cosimo, to look at Nikolas. Nikolas’s green eyes didn’t leave Cosimo’s. He walked closer to Cosimo’s bed and stopped at the end of it. Nikolas lifted his right hand, tucking his left behind his back and formed a fist over his chest.

His eyes solemn as he stared at Cosimo.

“I promise you, Cosimo. That your brother will not come to any harm in my care. I will treat you both as if you were my subjects. If you wish you can pass through my territory if you would prefer to keep running from where you’re from. I will provide the King’s escort so you can pass safely through.” Nikolas’s gaze softened then. A small flush fell over his cheeks, and Cosimo realised with a start that the King was… embarrassed.

“Or, if you prefer, you can have a room here in the palace. In my court. You would be treated with the utmost respect and kindness, as well as I would treat any other human. More so, because I know what pain you have been caused under my care. This, I give you, my vow as King. No harm will come to you.”

Cosimo stared without words. It felt as if his breath was taken from his chest. The only thought running through his head was that: Nikolas really did look like a King. The kind of Kings from stories Cosimo grew up with; good Kings, kind Kings, brave as knights and chosen by Gods. His golden brown hair like a crown, standing like a soldier in front of Cosimo, offering him a salute.

A King saluting Cosimo.

A human saluting an elf.

His enemy.

Maybe he was like everything Henrik had said. Maybe he was too good to be a King.

Cosimo broke down into another round of sobs. Nikolas blanked, like he had done something wrong immediately looking to Henrik who shared his look of confusion.

Artzet was bandaging Cosimo’s wrist, movement unbroken as if there was no life changing exchanges happening behind him. Myshka purred on Cosimo’s lap happily.

“Cosimo, I—” Nikolas began but Cosimo cut him off.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for causing all this trouble, I’m sorry for forcing you to be kind. I’m sorry—” Cosimo blubbered, looking up at Nikolas with watery eyes, as wide as saucers. “I’m sorry… that I’m not strong enough to say no. I— I ran with my brother, we— I didn’t have a plan, we have nowhere else to—”

Henrik engulfed Cosimo in a hug, stopping him mid sentence. He was so strong he could take the weight of them both as sobs wracked through Cosimo like a storm. Blubbering up and broiling over in waves.

“We’ll find your brother,” Nikolas said, and he was so certain. “As soon as you’re rested and—”

Cosimo’s eyes flew open, panicked. “No. Please, we have to find him now.”

Nikolas softened. “Of course. As soon as Artzet has looked you over we will set out to find him, Cosimo.”

“How wonderful,” Artzet said happily, returning Cosimo’s bandaged wrist to his lap. “I am already halfway through! Henrik, please. Let us swap sides.”

Cosimo flushed at Artzet’s manner of speaking. He spoke from the back of his throat, pausing as if for effect after every couple of words. His voice happy and upbeat, his face still the same imposing sternness that had initially scared Cosimo.

Henrik pulled back from Cosimo, and Cosimo offered him a smile. It was all he could do. Henrik returned one and walked around the bed to where Artzet was before, sitting on the edge of the blanket.

“How far away was your brother from where we were camped?” Henrik asked.

“Not too far,” Cosimo replied. “I’ll know when we get there. I left him in an elfbow. It should protect him from humans.”

“And from elves?”

Cosimo looked at Nikolas who had an unreadable expression on his face. Cosimo frowned, he didn’t even think of that.

“No,” said Cosimo softly. “No it wouldn’t.”

“No trouble,” said Artzet with a smile. “I will just work faster.”

Nikolas nodded at Artzet. “Thank you, Doctor. Henrik will stay with you Cosimo, while I send word to the stables to prepare the horses so we can leave as soon as you’re finished here.”

“Okay,” said Cosimo. “Thank you.”

Nikolas nodded and then he was gone.

“Oh no,” said Artzet not a second later. Turning Cosimo’s and Henrik’s head to him.

“What?” Henrik asked, his eyes flickering to Cosimo’s wrist.

Artzet grinned. “I think the King likes you, Cosimo.”

Henrik rolled his eyes and let out a soft laugh. Cosimo didn’t know how to react to that statement, but it did make something warm around his heart. It was good if the King liked him, that meant he would survive. The boy would survive. They would be okay, that Cosimo didn’t actually doom them. That he saved them both.

That all this had meant something.

Artzet smiled when he was finished and straightened. “Now, Cosimo. You are good as new! Well, not new, but better.”

Artzet spoke at Henrik next: “make sure he doesn’t ride his own horse in case the pulling of the reins aggravates his wrists.”

“It’s okay,” said Henrik, getting to his feet. “Cosimo will be riding with me anyway.”

“Marvellous. Now, Myshka,” said Artzet with a sigh. He leaned down and hooked his hands under the cats belly to her mewl of protest. “I know, I know. Terrible. Cosimo has a brother to rescue, Myshka, don’t be selfish.”

Cosimo got to his feet, his head only slightly dizzying now. The stress seeming to have left his body with Artzet and Myshka.

“Thank you,” Cosimo said to Artzet who was cuddling Myshka to his chest.

“Anytime, Cosimo. Now go, save your brother. I will see you again.”

Cosimo walked beside Henrik out of Artzet’s room and turned a different corner than the one that led back to the court room with the throne and the iron pole.

“Cosimo, are you sure you’re okay to ride?” Henrik asked, the skepticism evident in his voice. Cosimo for his part was doing his best to stay focused and upright.

“Yes,” said Cosimo. He did feel better, much better than before. He was a little woozy but he just attributed that to the blood loss. His hands looked a little funny with the white bandages wrapped firmly around them. Soft, yet strong. “We need to find him.”

He could feel Henrik’s eyes on him as they walked down the steps they had come up from the stables. They were so close to being safe, Cosimo could rest when he saw the boy, didn’t Henrik understand that? He could relax and let Henrik fuss over him then, but not until he saw the boy.

If the elves had got to him…

No, Cosimo couldn’t think like that. He wouldn’t. They would find the boy and everything would be fine.

They emerged from the side door of the palace to find Nikolas and some soldiers preparing horses outside the stables. Ebony was already geared up, tied off beside a white horse that Cosimo could only presume belonged to Nikolas.

He seemed like the type of man to have a white horse. It made him look more like a Hero. Henrik walked them around to where the gathering of the soldiers were to see Nikolas in the middle, sitting on a bale of hay and laughing at something with the stable boys.

He perked up when he saw Cosimo and Henrik, smiling and standing. He clapped one of the stable boys on the shoulder and then he was in front of Cosimo and Henrik.

“You’re all patched up,” said Nikolas.

“Yes, Artzet worked quickly.”

“Good. Then let’s not waste anymore time, hmm?”

They didn’t. Henrik helped Cosimo onto Ebony again and then climbed up behind him, while Nikolas mounted the white horse beside them. Henrik offered something to Cosimo and he took it, realising it was the hood and cloak Henrik had given him before to hide his ears from the other humans.

Cosimo frowned at the green material. Did he still have to hide? Was he not free by the king’s decree?

“People won’t know that you’re pardoned yet, Cosimo,” said Henrik behind him as he walked Ebony towards the palace gates. “They will still have reason to fear you if they see your ears. People have the tendency to think the worst. It will just cause panic.”

Cosimo swallowed his pride. He didn’t really have any grounds to fight Henrik who had only been kind with him. Henrik was doing this for Cosimo too, so he wouldn’t have to see the fear and hatred in the people’s eyes.

With a few orders from Nikolas they were out the palace gates and walking through the city to the border. Cosimo was awed with the reception Nikolas got from his people.

“Your majesty!”

“Your highness!”

“Three cheers for King Nikolas!”

A street band from the upper city followed the precession with lively music as they walked through the streets. Nikolas, Cosimo observed, smiled and waved and nodded when he needed to. He had no crown and yet everyone knew he was the King. He was adored by his city.

When they got into the outer parts, the poorer parts Cosimo expected some of the love to dwindle but if anything it just got louder.

“Nikolas!”

“King Niko! Where’re’ya off ta?”

“Your highness! We named our son after you,” a woman cried, holding a baby up to him. Nikolas laughed and stopped his horse beside the woman to gaze down at the sleeping child in her arms.

“Mmm, he’s going to be a handsome one, Sierra. Look at that, he’s got his father’s strong nose.” Nikolas looked up at her and smiled, what Cosimo could only assume was his charming kingly smile. “I wish you three all the happiness in the world.”

Then they continued on.

More music.

Flowers thrown at his horses feet. It’s like a festival.

Cosimo can’t help but feel a stab on envy. He can only watch as the humans fawn and fuss over their King, and with good reason, because he’s wearing a cloak right now to cover his features. His ears, his skin, his eyes. All too strange to humans, all hateful. That’s why they were greeted with flowers instead of curses and words of praise rather than hatred.

He shrunk a little into himself, pulling the cloak tighter around himself. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Not until they rescued the boy, that’s why they were leaving Oskana at all. If the humans knew why… well, they wouldn’t be cheering as much.

Or maybe, some tiny voice said at the back of Cosimo’s mind, maybe they would cheer even louder.

It was just a thought, fleeting, and yet somehow heavier than anything Cosimo had thought in the past day. He ignored it. The voice could be right, but Cosimo couldn’t be sure until he saw the boy again.

Until he saved him.

Cosimo raised his head as they reached the city gates, staring out into the Kingswood, as one of the soldiers in his trial had called it.

I’m coming back with help, Cosimo promised. Please, be safe.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be tagged or removed): @annablogsposts

[katerdaddy]

Dapple Doodle Page

Also Apple with glasses- because of that one playset lmao

[cinnlytamon]

[moonrosalie]

꧁✬◦°⋆⋆°◦𝒴𝒶𝓉𝒽𝒶 ℳℴℴ𝒹𝒷ℴ𝒶𝓇𝒹◦°⋆⋆°◦✬꧂

Niedoszła Księżniczka.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/376042522-maskarada-%C5%BCywio%C5%82%C3%B3w-carole-przesilenia

[asapeveryday]

: ̗̀➛ No Light, No Armor

knight!paige.bueckers x princess!reader fantasy au

warnings: use of pet names, power imbalance(?) kinda goes both ways tbh, oral sex (r.receiving),reader is inexperienced , semi-risky sex, more plot than porn lol sorry

synopsis: you’re sheltered royalty, hidden behind vine-veiled cobblestone and powder pink gossip. being treated like a child has only made your less-than-innocent cravings more intense. it doesn't help that your new personal knight gives you more attention than you're used to. in fact, it only infatuates you more. (aka, we're kinda deprived and paige is...there.)

sierra says: i had so much fun writing this! kinda struggled w dialogue bc i wanted to go slighhhtly formal but also paige speaks pretty informally irl so i had no idea how to write her lines while making it sound like her. but its an au so its okayyyyy its not that srs.

THE CLICK OF your embroidered flats against the cool, polished castle floor are only hidden by faint giggles and the swish of fabric against bare ankles.

The two of you must be more careful. You bite your tongues and cover your upturned lips with beautiful hands to muffle the noise. A woman’s chortle holds power your father would rather die than allow you to take advantage of. No, you’re barely even allowed to grace a male with your presence, let alone slip any noises within proximity.

Still, you and your friend can’t help but squeal as you duck and scurry through the castle halls, hiding behind crevices and thick pillars to avoid being caught.

Your friend, daughter of your fathers advisor, had overheard her father and yours talking in hushed tones. Something about recruiting fresh blood, young and eager soldiers who ache to serve under the king. The best of the lot, a grand total of five extraordinary knights, were to be assessed today in the hall just north-west of your living quarters.

Naturally, both you and her decided it was only right to asses these knights yourselves. From afar. Quietly.

It’s exciting, the notion of the word fresh, meaning new. Young. Emphasis on young, most knights were—they had to be in peak condition of course—but your fathers preferred personal knights had grown older. He began to worry their temptations may precede them, that your youth may stray them from their duty.

You were wholly uninterested in the knights. They were silent creatures, just empty eyes behind sheets of armour, only opening their mouths to forbade you from freedom under daddy’s orders. If they had lingering stares that followed a gown hemmed too short, or a neckline too low, you hadn’t noticed. You tried not to notice them at all.

But still the rush of sneaking away to gawk at these new, alien beings is adrenaline racing on its own. If your father knew of your intentions, you’d be locked away till your wedding day.

“They’re tall.” Nika, your friend, smirks, head poking out from behind the wide pillar you’re both hiding behind. “Come look.”

Carefully, you shuffle over and peep your eyes just over the old marble slab that shields you. You can seem them a little ways down the curved palace hall, the five of them adorned in their shiny silver walls and guarded helmets, swords in their hilts, eyes hidden beneath metal. Alien, inhuman, a separate type of being from yours.

“How old do you think these ones are?” You whisper, and she shrugs,

“Papa said one of them was yours, so that one must be the youngest.” She mutters back, and you nod. Your father was far too paranoid to have a seasoned, older man stand guard by your room at night.

“The others may be slightly older.” Nika adds. “They’re all within marrying age, that’s for sure.”

“You want one?” You smirk, glancing at her. Her face grows pink but she shakes her head. “My wedding’s arranged already. No point in ruining it with an affair.”

“You’re not wed.” You scoff. “No such thing as an affair without a husband.”

“Not everyone can be so adventurous, princess.” Nika nudges you. “Trust me, I’d like to. But Papa would have my head on a platter served for luncheon before allowing even a rumour to float past him of my…activities.”

“Too bad.” You sigh, staring further at the knights, their perfect posture, their ridged obedience. “I believe every girl deserves to have a moment for loose behaviour.”

“Will that be your first rule as Queen?” Nika grins.

You shrug. “Pray that I find someone with enough heart to allow it.”

“A man of royalty would have you hung.” Nika snorts. “But a knight…perhaps.”

You almost gasp at the comment, eyes widening in her direction. “A knight?” You huff trying to stay quiet. “For me?”

“Why not?” She hums. “They have more heart than any royal man. One tough as nails, I’m sure. It’ll take more than…what’d you say? Loose behaviour? It’ll take more than that to shake them.”

“They’re poor.” You frown. “It’d be impossible.”

“Well I’m not saying you have to wed one.” Nika’s brows furrow. “But you could certainly bed one. And I doubt it’d be as much of a problem as any other man.”

“I guess so.” You hum, considering the sentiment. “But they’re so…distant. They never speak out of fear of my father. They rarely lift their helmets for the same reason. And when they do I’m often dissatisfied.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.” You frown. “Too rugged, most of them. Stubbly, the kind that hurts when it grazes your cheek.”

“Princess.” Nika raises a brow. “If you want a man then the stubble is your sign of one. No man with a face bare as a baby is old enough to defend you at night, let alone take care of you.”

“Is that so?”

“Definitely.”

“Shame.” You sigh, gazing back at the knights as Nika’s dad drawls on about some Palace rules. “I figured I’d enjoy the smooth kind more.”

“No skin is smoother than a woman’s.” Nika nods solemnly. “Real men are rough as rock. Especially knights.”

The two of you watch in silence as the knights heed every word lectured to them, stances unchanging, still as statues. You wonder how a knight could possibly be your key to sin, when they’re so obedient, so loyal to the institution that imprisons you.

It’s only when your father’s advisor leaves that they become humans in the slightest, posture still straight but less stiff, heads tilting towards each other for quiet conversation.

“What do knights talk about, Nika?”

“The ones who fight in the wars are like barbarians.” She says. “All talk of their battles, their wins, their injuries. And food. And beer.”

“And those in the palace?”

“I haven’t heard them talk.” She shrugs. “Well, I have. But not enough to know of what.”

“Would you spy for me?”

“I’m not the one who has a knight posted outside their quarters from dusk to dawn.” She scoffs.

“I’ve tried.” You huff. “The last one didn’t utter one word in the years I knew him. Sometimes I wonder if father sews their mouths shut.”

“If they’re like the ones who brave the battlefield, it may be for the better.” Nika grins wickedly, and you just click your tongue.

“See those ones? They speak so softly. Look at how they cock their heads to exchange their thoughts.” You continue, eyes still on the five silver giants.

One of them turns their back to you, and you notice something slight. It shines in the sun, differently from the metal that they wear. Golden against silver, like silk. The slightest strand of blonde hair, peeking between the slices of armour left for mobility, the parting between the helmet and the backplate.

It’s not too unusual for them to have longer hair. Many men do, perhaps not that long, but long nonetheless. Even so, the pin-straight strand of hair throws you off, brings a femininity to figures you’ve only ever associated with rough edges.

You don’t mention it to Nika. You just watch the blonde knight whisper to another.

“Perhaps we have some chatterboxes in the palace for once.” Nika muses as she watches them. “Young blood breeds new tradition. Mouths can’t be sewn shut forever.”

“Indeed.” You mumble, eyes still latched onto the knight with golden hair. “They can’t.”

YOU’RE INTRODUCED TO your new guard that evening, summoned out of your quarters by a soft knock at the door. Outside waits your father and the silver-showered knight.

He’s taller up close, significantly more lanky than your last few knights. His posture is straight, confidently so. You can’t tell if he’s staring at you, or if his head is simply in your direction. His eyes are obscured by the metal grates on his helmet.

“This one is the best yet.” Your father assures you, nodding in the knights’ direction. “I know we’ve had too many changes darling, but I believe it’s best to have a consistent guard, rather than swapping them out.”

You cross your arms, uncaring of the company in front of you. “That’s only what I’ve been telling you for the past ten years. How am I supposed to form a relationship with the one who’s meant to keep me safe, when that person is constantly changing?”

“Ah, see that’s where you’re misled.” Your dad tuts. “You must trust your guard, not have a relationship with them.”

“Those things aren’t mutually exclusive.” You frown.

“Nevertheless,” He smiles, bulldozing through any opportunity for argument, “this knight is here to stay. Age will not be a problem. If all is well, you’ll be protected by this one till the end of their days.”

You glance at the knight, who doesn’t even stir.

“You may attempt to have a relationship.” Your father chuckles. “But it will be futile. I’ve given a full rundown of my instructions already. You understood well, did you not?”

Your father half-glances at the knight, who you notice is even taller than him. The knight finally shifts, nodding surely. “To the bone, your highness.” The knight says.

Your eyes narrow.

The voice. Muffled beneath the metal, it’s hard to make out. But it’s higher than you’d thought it’d be.

“Just how young is this one?” You ask.

“None of your concern.” Your father grins. “You may go back inside now. Goodnight.”

Without any room for question, the order is given. The knight turns back to the walls that surround the outside of your quarters and stands ready with one hand on the hilt of his sword. Your father gleams happily, nodding at you to go back to your room.

With a huff, you do, stepping back into your prison. You stand against the door in wait, listening for the sound of your father’s footsteps until they can’t be heard.

And then you open the door again, just slightly. The knight’s armour creaks as his head turns to glance at you from beside the door.

“You’ll be protecting me till you’re too old to move in that suit.” You smile, trying hard to spy a pair of eyes between the metal grates of the helmet with no luck. “I see no harm in knowing your name.”

The knight turns his head away, staring back ahead at the empty hall.

“Typical.” you scoff, burnt by the rejection but not surprised. “Can’t even give me something as simple as a name. What am I meant to call out when some bandit attacks me?”

There’s a little noise inside the suit of armour. An exhale, maybe even a huff.

“You thought that was funny.” You grin, and the knight goes rigid. “You’re a fool to follow every rule my father gives you. He thinks I’m meant to trust you without knowing you at all. I’m never going to call out for you if that’s the case.”

The knight says nothing. You stare at him a little longer, aching for a response of any kind like the chuckle from before. He doesn’t give you that satisfaction.

You’re about to close your bedroom door when he shuffles.

“It’s not as simple as you think it is, princess.” He says, the last word sending a shiver down your spine.

That voice again, not high like the women you know, but certainly not a man’s. It drips with confidence and oozes amusement yet also something raw beneath. Nothing like something you can place.

You look him over again, once, twice. Something glints in your vision.

A dark gold, straight as embroidery thread. It shimmers just slightly under the armour against the light of the lantern mounted on the wall. Long, blonde hair.

An idea runs through your head, a stupid, impossible reason for that shocking voice and promise of lifelong service.

You wait. The knight says nothing more. You ponder, deciding whether or not to voice your question. Then you decide against it.

You close the door.

The knight is good.

Good at being present, at standing guard and staying awake, unlike the last one who grew too old to stay up till dawn, allowing you to slip out at night. Good at hovering a safe distance behind of you, far enough to give you privacy, some semblance of freedom, while close enough to be able to intervene should context permit it.

Good at being silent. At listening, not through walls like the one you had at sixteen, but rather at the comments you drop under curtesy’s and diplomatic quips.

When a joke falls flat, or a rude comment goes unnoticed, you never fail to hear a noise from behind you. An exhale, a scoff. If you’re lucky, that low yet girlish voice will let a chuckle slip.

But the knight is also an anomaly. Sometimes the chuckles are ones that catch you off guard, that make your breath hitch at their tone.

The flecks of blonde you see between cracks of armour make your brain buzz. The way he moves is nothing like the brash, abrasive men of steel you recognize.

You try every day, to see through those metal bars in his helmet. To catch a glimpse of eyes, lips, nose, anything.

You have no luck with that matter, but you do manage to crack a code to hear that entrancing voice more often.

Though, the first time isn't an accident.

It was a dark day, the kind that often made you feel isolated and alone. The type of night that either brought insomnia or nightmares.

That night brought haunted dreams that woke you up shivering, dreams of falling forever, of being locked away till your curls grow white and wirey.

The knight is in your room before you realize you're shrieking, metal lit by the lantern he holds, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Princess." He says softly, voice muffled beneath his helmet. In an instant he's analyzed your state, pulling the hand from his weapon to the side of your bed. Distant, but ready to offer up his services.

"I don't wanna stay here." You breathe, chest heaving. Your face is wet with tears, chest glittering with the sheen of sweat. It doesn't even occur to you to feel exposed in your night gown, the frilly white one that sits too low past your collarbone. "I can't—I can't be here till I wither away."

"You're young." The knight reassures you, setting the lantern down and kneeling by your bedside, iron clanking. "You're still young. Your life is just beginning, and it won't be wasted away here."

You scoff breathlessly, shooting the tin-warrior a nasty look. "Don't be a fool." You bite. "Look at me, look at everything you watch me do. Every single day I live like a child, I'm treated like a child, I'm followed like a child." Your eyes flare. Despite the fury, you still feel your bottom lip tremble, visions of your old, withered body never making it past the palace still fresh.

The knight just shifts, and you can't help but wonder if it's a shift of guilt.

"I mean honestly," you sniffle, "I'd thought when I had my first bleed I'd be womanly enough to have some freedom, but it only got worse." You chuckle sadly. "Turns out the prospect of marriage is only more reason to keep me hidden away."

"...yes." The knight mumbles carefully. "You really shouldn't discuss those matters with me."

"You're not disgusted." You say. "Are you?"

"More terrified of what the court may do to me if someone hears you." The knight says, and you can hear a slight smile.

"Why aren't you?" You ask suddenly, eyes narrowing. "Why aren't you disgusted?"

The knight shifts again, and you see another fleck of gold hair under his chest plate. "I'm more familiar with those matters than most."

That statement alone is enough to confirm any suspicions you may have had before.

Before you can poke around much further, he rises from the side of your bed, takes the lantern and nods to you stiffly. A farewell.

"Wait!" You sit up. "I'm not finished with you!"

"You're too smart for your own good, princess." The knight says. His broad back turns away, and your room grows dark as he walks out, door clicking behind him.

Something burns in your stomach at that retort. You even dream again that night, but it's not nightmarish at all.

And so, you take advantage of the next terror. A few nights later. One where you step foot off of a palace balcony and never hit the ground, cursed to eternal falling.

It's not enough to wake you in cries for help, but you do come to consciousness damply, nightgown sticking to your legs from sheer cold sweat.

You wonder if he would come if you called. Though you didn't have a name to taste for him. Perhaps that would be your goal for the night.

Instead, you opt for a few whimpers, eyes screwed shut, body scrunched tight against your pillow. It's awkward, but it works. You feel the light of the lantern against your closed lids, and you hear the clank of metal as he enters.

"Princess."

There it is again. The voice. The tightness it causes inside of you.

Slowly, you allow your eyes to open.

"Another nightmare?" The knight asks kindly.

"You'll discover I have many of those." You sigh, making your voice small, pathetic. "I'm imprisoned, even in my sleep."

"A dramatic prisoner." The knight chuckles, kneeling once again by your bed. "In another life you're a playwright."

"Don't make me mourn the idea." You scoff.

"So tonight, what is it that scares you?" The knight asks,

"A common one." You hum. "Out of questionable circumstances, I lose my footing on the balcony and fall."

"Gruesome, princess."

"Not quite." You sigh. "I never hit the ground. I just tumble down through the air. It's sickening, really. Endless torture."

"I can imagine." The knight hums. "Should we make that a new punishment for those who commit treason?"

"Perhaps." You say, smiling just a tad. Slowly, you peel your covers off of you and trail your hand gingerly from your chest to your stomach. "I wish there was something to cure this. It was only a dream, but I really am sick to my stomach."

"Careful." The knight mutters, shifting to pull the covers back up. The feeling of cold chainlink metal grazing your arm makes you shiver with delight you've never experienced before.

"I can't stay long." The knight says. "But I really am sorry that you can't get a good night's rest."

"It's not so bad anymore." You shrug. "At least I can rely on you to be there. It's nice to hear a voice other than the few I know by heart now."

"I'm going to get in trouble for talking to you so much, princess."

"I know." You frown, pouting slightly, hoping that somewhere behind that metal helmet lay eyes that catch on the plumpness of your lips. "But it's more help than anyone's ever offered. I--I don't dream so harshly after we've spoken."

The knight pauses.

"I'm glad." He settles.

"One day I'll want to call out to you." You add, trying your best to look sweet and persuasive. "I'll need a name to do that."

The knight gets up slowly. "If I could give you that, I would." He says. "But trust me when I say I'll be there before calling out even becomes an option."

You scoff, shooing the knight away playfully. Though you think about those words until sleep claims you again.

"I dreamt of you." You sigh a few weeks later. The knight is perched by your bedside again, you're turned on your side, hoping the way your breasts cling to the fabric of your nightgown catches the right eyes. The lantern light is routine now, but intimately so.

"Oh really?"

"Indeed." You sigh, breathless. "I dreamt that I had a nightmare, and a knight came running in."

The knight cocks his head.

Days with the knight were different now. You had your suspicions about the sex of whoever may lay beneath the helmet, but it didn't deter you in the slightest.

If anything, it made a sense of passion burn inside of you. You can just feel it, those possibly-feline eyes glazing over your every move. It doesn't seem as imprisoning, but rather empowering.

It certainly helps when the knight drops little comments between the hours.

"Careful, princess."

"I'll always be there."

"That look just might find you a suitor."

"If I could have my post be inside of your bedroom, without a doubt I would."

Every word set you ablaze. More than you think that metal-tease could be aware of.

"So," the voice drawls, smooth against the night. "I came to your rescue?"

"It wasn't you. I could tell, even with the armour." You continue. "Well, I thought I could. That was the problem. I had this feeling that it was someone else, but there was no concrete proof."

"No?"

"No." You frown. "You all look the same, after all. Even voices blend together after a while."

"So this scared you?"

"Of course." You say. "I trust you to comfort me, nobody else has had that pleasure."

"Aren't I lucky." The knight scoffs.

"Don't tease." You huff. "It's true. Your presence is magic. And that knight made me fear the magic was gone."

"What if it was me?"

"Well, how would I know?" You shoot back. "With no name to call for and no face to recognize, you could be a bandit in armour for all I know."

"I'm sorry for that." The knight says genuinely.

"If you are then fix it." You smile. "Give me something to recognize you by, even in my dreams.

"Not much I can give, princess." The knight says, and you can feel the smile in every word.

"I can think of plenty." You sigh, holding out a hand to touch the cool metal helmet in front of you. "But I don't want to get you into trouble."

Slowly, you run your fingers over every ridge and bump, trailing through the metal that casts shadows over the eyes. "But these could do with some uncovering." You hum. "Eyes are the window to the soul."

"You care for a mere knight's soul?"

"More than you may know." You smile.

The knight stiffens ever so slightly.

"Go ahead, then." The voice says, dangerously quiet.

You lift the hinged iron, resting it higher on the helmet, and a rectangle of skin is bared to you. Eyes, round and inquisitive, stare back at you.

Bright. And blue, like royalty from far away.

You swallow. "Beautiful."

The eyes blink. You wonder what features may lie below them. Just from seeing these eyes, you have an idea of the nature of those features. Full, soft and feminine.

"You're a woman." You breathe, finally saying it out loud.

The knight flinches, pulls back from your hand, and hastily shifts the metal slate over her eyes again. Your heart sinks as she gets up and begins to retreat from your room.

"Goodnight, princess." She says. Her voice is almost too low to hear, before you're engulfed in silence.

The knight does not speak more than a word to you from that point onward.

Days pass slowly. Routine becomes bland and boring again, there's no rush in your heart or tightness in your core at the sound of her voice anymore. Just stiff nods in your direction. Blank metal that holds no warmth, no ounce of frosted colour like it did that night.

What's worse is that your nightmares have halted, instead being replaced by a much more sinful species of dream that leaves you waking up exhilarated. Dreams that feature cold iron on your skin, blonde hair tickling your abdomen, blue eyes that stare up at you, preening, begging, giving.

Nika doesn't help.

"I can't even fathom it!" She squeals, half whispering, half yelling. You turn around to see if the knight is watching. If she is, you can't really tell. But she lingers far enough for conversation to be safe.

"No?" You respond mindlessly.

"No!" Nika huffs. "I mean, the boy has to be lying, he's only a valet after all, but servants know all kinds of things so then again—"

"Nika, calm yourself." You shush.

"I can't!" She groans. "A female knight? In what world? How is this possible? Why wasn't this made aware to me?"

"Why would it be?"

"If i'd known that was an option, I'd be on a battle field slaying enemies right now."

"You're joking."

"Dead serious." She frowns. "I'm more jealous than anything. Who is this girl and what does one have to do to trade places with her."

"You never know." You shrug. "It might not be as fun as it seems. Who says she's fighting?"

"Well, she's here, so obviously she's not." Nika rolls her eyes. "But she's got the title nonetheless, lucky bastard."

"What else did this valet say?" You whisper.

"Oh, just some foolish boy-things." Nika waves. "He claims she's gorgeous, but I don't think that's possible for a knight. All of the men are rough and rugged. I doubt a woman would be different. I can see it now, a handsome woman. Though gorgeous fits his description more."

"Gorgeous?" You quip, interested. "How so?"

"Oh, he's an idiot." Nika laughs. "Described her like she was an angel. Long blonde hair, full lips, pale skin." She hums. "Big, blue eyes."

You try not to grin to yourself at the details. "And she really is pretty?"

"Yes, princess." Nika smirks. "You gonna ask daddy what he can do to send her over? For your sake and mine?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." You shrug, straight-faced. Nika just snorts, and the rest of the stroll is silence.

Nightfall bleeds through the windows of your room as you stare at yourself in the mirror. It's well after midnight, but you feel as awake as ever.

Your heart is beating fast beneath your beautifully embroidered dress. It's one you'd had made for when the time came to start accepting suitors, in your favourite colour. Form-fitting around the bosom, enough to make your breasts pop, but flowy just below that. It glitters in the night. You've done your hair up too, not extravagantly, but just enough to look effortlessly good.

This is all moving too slow for you. You want to see how much it'll take before your knight breaks.

Slowly, you approach the door to your room and open it. Just a tad.

You see her, leaning against a pillar just in front of your room. You can't tell if she's stark and awake, or nodding off. All the better.

Careful and practiced, you slip out without a sound.

She doesn't turn.

You can't help but internally celebrate at that. All you have to do is walk behind your pillar, and hope she doesn't turn your way. If she hasn't recognized you yet, perhaps she wasn't very good after all.

You manage past the pillar with much difficulty, finally succeeding in making it to an empty corridor. Finally, you can let a breath escape your lips at the relief. She'll be in a shock if she checks on you throughout the night.

You're too busy internally celebrating in the empty hall before a firm hand wraps around your wrist, and pulls you back.

"Oomph!" You squeak, almost bumping into a full wall of metal. Looking from the hand on your wrist to the face towering above you, your heart sinks to see a knights helmet staring back.

"Going somewhere?" She says, that stupidly amused voice sending shivers down your spine.

She still holds your wrist.

"Let go of me." You grind your teeth.

She does. You wish nothing more to see what expression that angelic face holds right now, at the sight of you all prettied up and caught red handed.

"Back to your room, princess." She snorts.

You stand brave.

"I'm not going anywhere."

The knight steps forward. "Clearly you were planning on it."

"Says who?" You shuffle back.

"Nobody wears a dress like that for nothing." The knight says, sauntering forward. "How is it that you have a secret beau that I haven't known about in the months I've been your knight?"

You can hear the stint of jealousy in her voice. You hope her eyes are burning with it, the thought makes your thighs clench as you step back again.

Of course, she steps forward.

"Are you cold, princess?" She bites. "Your arms have turned into gooseflesh."

"Quite a chatterbox now." You scoff. "Did you grow tired of pretending you have no voice?"

You back up, slightly jumping when your bare back hits the cold, marble walls of the palace. The knight has you herded like prey, the height of her truly evident now.

"Does he know how often his dear princess has her knight in her quarters?" She asks innocently. "Does he know how late the hours turn?"

"Why should he be concerned?" You shoot back. "This knight has no name and no face I'm familiar with. What is there to worry about?"

"Funny, since you lack that information yet still beg for my comfort each night without fail."

Your face burns. It's worse that you can't even see hers.

"Who's the boy?" She bites.

"You won't ever know." You pout.

A gloved hand comes to tilt your chin up. Her fingers are gentle, but cold.

"Tell me." She whispers, and you almost melt. "Unless there isn't a boy after all."

Your lip trembles, and your legs even shake under your weight. You've never felt like this, only dreamt of it, fantasized about it it's a page out of your sinful, awful, dishonourable story book. So beautiful you could almost smile.

"Take the helmet off." You whisper. "And I'll tell you."

Her hand leaves your chin like a ghost, and her arms raise to meet the hard material of her helmet. In a swift motion, she pulls the helmet off.

Long, hay-coloured hair spills out from the helmet like a cascading waterfall, settling around the silver of her shoulders.

Angel is an understatement.

Her eyes, the one part of her that's stayed consistent in your dreams, they bore holes into your soul unlike anything you've encountered. Iced blue irises stare at you so knowingly, like they've perceived all that there is to notice.

Lips—pink, plush and full. Slightly parted, an exhale leaving through them. High cheekbones, long lashes. Mousey brown brows. Pale skin, a decent contrast to yours.

"So?" She mumbles, blinking slow. "Talk."

"Not much to say now." You mutter, genuinely awestruck. "I've gotten what I wanted."

Her expression furrows. You almost fold over.

"That's too bad princess, because I'm not satisfied." She cocks her head. "What a desperate plea for attention."

"You don't mind." You hum, glancing at the tinge of pink in her cheeks, the rush of blood to her ears. "You like this just as much as I do."

"Shouldn't royalty be more chaste than this?" She mumbles, eyes still unbreaking from yours. She begins to pull away.

"Wait!" You squeak, your hands flying out to grip her forearms, pulling her forward. She's left pinning you between each hand against the wall, your grip steady on her wrists.

Her eyes widen in suprise, the tiniest noise escaping her mouth. It's like music to your ears.

"Princess," She mutters, "what is it, exactly, that you want?"

You chew your lip, nervous in thought. Though, it does feel good to finally see her eyes follow your expressions, to catch her looking at your mouth.

"I'm naive." You whisper. "And sheltered, and unknowing of the world."

Her brows scrunch, but she listens.

"And you're a woman. And a knight." You continue. "You've probably experienced more now than I will in a lifetime."

"You're so wrapped up in your isolation." She huffs, shaking her head. "If you're so desperate to be free, make an effort to be."

"Listen." You pout, and without hesitation, she does.

"One day, my father will realize I can't be here forever." You mutter. "And then I'll be wed, and led into isolation once more. And then I'll be left confused, and unknowling, floundering around and relying on another man to teach me what there is to know."

She raises a brow.

"I know of sex." You finally say, and you swear her heartbeat quickens.

"I refuse to give my maidenhood unwillingly, to an imbecile I wouldn't have chosen, nonetheless."

Her fingers flex beside your head. "And how can I help with that?" She frowns.

"Knights are experienced." You mumble. "I want you to show me what there is to know."

She just stares at you, face unchanging, eyes piercing holes through you, undressing you between every blink.

"You want me to fuck you." She states quietly.

With batting eyelashes, you nod.

"It won't be what you think." She mumbles. You don't miss the glances at your lips, the way one hand leaves the wall to cup your face. The cool tingle of metal against your skin makes you shiver. "I don't know what fantasies you dream up in your head, but you have no idea what you want."

"It doesn't matter." You hush, almost shaking with excitement. "You're already alone with me, cornering me in the corridor this late at night. If someone were to hear of this..." You trail off, eyes glinting with the slightest bit of malice, "it'd be quite bad for you."

"Is that supposed to be encouraging?" She grunts.

"No." You hum. "But if it gets to that, you might as well make this time with me worth it. Take advantage of the situation."

"And if I don't?" She cocks a brow.

"I don't do well with rejection." You say, gazing up at her innocently.

She understands the implication. The stakes. She knows this is a huge risk, taking the princess she’d sworn to protect like an animal in heat, right here in the empty corridor. With that invigorating, false-innocent look you’re giving her, she knows there’s no winning.

Her lashes flutter, and she leans into you slowly. You feel as if you might just float on air, with the way her thumb grazes back and forth on your cheek so softly, the way her lips just barely ghost yours. You can’t help but stare at her as her nose tickles yours, as your faces slot against each other like the stones that line the wall as of the palace.

Her lashes graze your cheek, her lips part ever so slightly, and finally plant themselves on yours. Gently, with utmost care. She kisses you like a butterfly drinks nectar from a flower, fleeting and instinctual, light as a feather.

You can’t help but stand up on your tip-toes and chase after her every time she pulls away. Your first kisses with her are dreamlike, they’re a fantasy against the dim light of the hallway.

“You’re the most evil princess i’ve ever met.” She whispers against your cheek, pressing her lips against your powdered skin between each word. As she trails towards your jaw, she says, “Dressing like this in hopes of seducing me, calling me into your room each night with your nightgown too loose and your sheets thrown off.”

You shiver as she nips at your delicate skin, exhaling as her mouth trails down to your neck. “You noticed?”

She scoffs, breath warming your neck. “Of course I did. I was lucky I had that helmet, or else you would’ve had me hung for being a pervert the first day we met.”

You begin to chuckle softly, but your laughter is cut off by a soft whimper you didn’t know you were capable of. It’s not surprising, not as she presses open mouthed kisses to your collarbone and your breasts as they press against your low-cut dress. Her knee slips between yours, adding a friction you haven’t felt before in your life.

You’re ablaze, skin tight and mind buzzed as she smothers you with kisses, as her knee rocks against your groin. You can’t help but rut against her too, chasing a high you’re not even aware of.

Your hands grip her shoulders, hips jutting against her leg, before she grabs your wrists and pulls them towards the wall again.

“Stop.” She huffs.

“Wh—” you huff, the tension in your stomach drying out. “Why?”

“You’re going to finish before I’ve even done anything.” She says, smirking like she’s won a war.

You pout, face burning. “No I’m not.”

“Oh, princess.” She drawls. “You have no idea.” She says, and this time when she presses a kiss to your lips, it’s open mouthed. Her tongue ventures into your mouth before you can even register, and when she pulls away a string of saliva connecting her to you follows.

And then she pushes you flush against the wall, hands grabbing your hips, and kneels down to the ground.

The sight of her staring up at you, blue eyes wide, is a dream come true.

“You’ve been asking for a name to call out.” She licks her lips, finding the bottom of your dress and toying with the edges. “It’s Paige.” She says, and then she lifts up your dress, and ducks under.

The best you can do is slap a hand over your lips to muffle your noises as you feel her fingers graze the bare skin of your thighs, as the cold chain link metal on her arms raises every hair on your body. As her fingertips reach the hem of your undergarments and pull down.

And then you feel it, warm against your naked skin, sopping wet and needy.

“Paige.” You whine, muffled behind your palms. Her hands grip your legs, spreading them apart wider as her tongue darts out to lick at your core, sending jolts of feeling throughout your body.

You peel one hand from your face to hike up your dress, finally catching sight of her as her mouth attaches to you. You watch, intent and exhilarated, as she sucks on your clit, swirling her tongue around it circularly, dipping into your hole with every shudder of your body.

Her eyes are closed as she does it, like she’s completely devoted to your cause. You shouldn’t be surprised, she is your knight after all. How good would she be if she wasn’t devoted in all areas of her work?

And god, is she good.

She shakes her tongue back in forth, she nuzzles in closer to you like you’re seeping nectar instead of arousal. Her voice, Paige’s voice, escapes in little grunts and gasps as you preen and shake above her, as your thighs try to close before she forces them open again. She splits you open, body and soul, with her mouth alone in that empty corridor.

“Paige,” you whine, head thrown back agains the cold wall. “Fuck, I feel—I think I’m..” you trail off, swallowing another moan before someone comes to investigate the noise.

The noise is another thing, besides your voice and hers, you’ve never heard a noise so crude as the result of her fucking you with her mouth. It’s embarrassing but powerful, that in itself is enough to build you up.

Something deep in your gut is tightening like a sailors knot. She seems to notice, maintaining the perfect pace and pressure until you’re bucking and jolting against her. Her hands, her large, rugged hands, handle you like you’re just another piece of weaponry to her.

Even that thought isn’t enough to dull your high. You come hard, bursting against that wall and biting back a whine as she licks your thighs clean of anything that escapes you.

You’re left panting and fuzzy as she rises from her kneel on the ground, metal clanking, lips glistening from saliva and sweet arousal. Her eyes are open again, blue bullets that shoot with full precision. Gently, she wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

“Alright, princess?” She asks voice raspy.

You nod, eyes fluttering shut when she leans in again for a shorter, more chaste kiss that still somehow sends you reeling.

“Take me to my room, Paige.” You sigh with satisfaction.

She smiles like she’s got something up her sleeve, but you’re still surprised when she swoops you off of your feet, and carries you bridal style back to your room.

You’r even more surprised when she places you on your bed, and closes the door behind her, still inside with you.

No nightmares taunt you for the rest of the night. In fact, you barely sleep at all.

tagsˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@booposaurusrex @jujueilish @juumecca @iknowwhatyoutellyourfriends @cowboybueckers @azzisworld @tengens5thwife @ellehoops @jadasogay @idkkk343 @elleaitch22 @ilovepaige3 @gabriella-dawn @onlyhereforpazzi @stargirlbils @classicvines03 @saverdelrey @bamblebini-blog @evanpeterstoe @yailtsv @matildas123

[almostliving84]

Guys

[twinkietwistz]

› Yargaza ‹

CHAPTER ONE; PUNISHABLE BY DEATH

· Warnings - gore, execution, gruesome acts

THE clouds rained down over the entire Eveene empire. The stone grounds of the empire were slippery and slick with the storm essence. Yvette stood before the crowd of rowdy peasants surrounding the gallows. A black cloak hung over her shoulders. She posed as the executioner who was no longer. The beast sworn by her side stood right with her. Both a man and a beast came Astrophel. His long claws were digging into the man's shoulders carelessly. The man nearing his brutal death. Cheers and shouts echoed loudly throughout every wall of the empire.

"Forty-five years—" Yvette's loud voice boomed through the center of the empire. An execution held where everyone could witness. As soon as she spoke, the crowd quieted down drastically, "—we have been suffering for the mistakes of emperor Thrakin Yargaza, making his second son ruler of Eveene."

Silence.

No one dared to speak as Yvette preached over the filthy gallows, ridden with aged blood and the smell of death. An axe rested in her palm, loosely swinging by her side. She looked down at the pathetic man who was once emperor of Eveene. Her father. He just looked up at Yvette with a nasty glare. He was constricted by rope, and held in place by her beastly companion.

"His prejudice will be no longer!" She yelled towards the crowd, "And his life will be no more!"

Her powerful voice made the crowd cheer loudly. The common folk shouted obscenities towards their previous emperor. Insults and jeers towards the man rumbled throughout the empire like war.

Yvette turned her attention towards the beast, giving him a nonverbal command. He got it in an instant. The beast man pushed the cruel emperor to his knees with a rough force. The emperor grunted uncomfortably as the tight ropes caused his skin to burn from the friction.

"Desmond Caversh Yargaza, ex-emperor of Eveene, and imperial bastard of Vivianna Aya Caversh." Yvette spat her words like they were bitter on her tongue. She raised the axe to his throat without any reluctance. A disgusted look crossed her cold features as she laid eyes on the pathetic man who shared her blood.

The emperor looked up at his eldest. There was nothing but rage, and hate behind his cruel eyes.

"Your mother failed to bring me a son..." Desmond spoke, "... The least she could've done was bear a worthy daughter." He whispered to her. But those were the last words he could ever utter again.

With one great swing, Yvette lodged the axe straight into his throat. The crowd roared encouragingly, embracing the execution of their emperor happily as they all watched her swing the axe to his throat.

Now, Desmond could only choke and gargle his own blood. His Adam's apple was split in two—along with his neck. His vocal cords most likely snapped in half given the way his throat was straining amongst the gurgles of his blood. Even when she struck him with the axe, the beast held him so he wouldn't fall. He was given orders, and he'd listen to Yvette willingly with his entire body.

Yvette pried the metal from his neck with a grunt. His blood sputtered out from his exposed larynx. The crimson fluid splattering on the gallows and some of it dripping to the stone brick grounds. It was a gnarly, deep cut. Yet he still lived. Gurgling his blood—unable to say not a thing.

That wasn't enough for Yvette. She grabbed her father by the hair, the rough force making his flesh tear at the cut slightly. She forcibly tilted his head back. Yvette made sure it was slow as she made his flesh rip at the neck.

The crowd continued to cheer and jeer at the emperor who was being penaltied with death. The beast man gazed at Yvette as she did the gruesome act. His golden eyes couldn't be torn away from her.

She tore his head right from his body, watching as his body twitched from the aftermath of death. His muscles still moved even after death.

Yvette rose his head in the air as it bled from the wounds she'd inflicted. His blood poured relentlessly on the old wooden platform. He bled like a faucet.

The crowd was both horrified and ecstatic. A cruel sight it was, but a justified action that satisfied the empire greatly.

The beast finally let go of the ex-emperor's body. A simple push that made the headless corpse topple on it's stomach limply.

The beast snatched the golden crown that was reserved for the empress, one that never came to be. It held pearls, golden charms, and a woven symbol of the empire on the center. Astrophel slowly lowered the crown to her head. The crown wrapped around her head, the charm of Eveena hung from the part in her hair to the center of her forehead.

"EMBRACE THY EMPRESS!" The beast roared from the gallows. He repeated the words passed down from imperial to imperial during coronation as Yvette had told him, "OR EMBRACE DEATH AS THINE." His voice could be mistaken as the devil himself. It was deep like a beasts bellow, distorted like the sinful calling of hell.

The coronation of their new empress sent the crowd into joyous hysterics. They didn't give the emperor's head in her hand any regard, or the blood spotted across her face and splattered on her hands.

Yvette dropped the head of her father to the floor like it was nothing. The head hit the floor with a thud and a splat. It rolled off the platform slowly, hitting the stone bricks in front of the crowd as they cheered.

Centuries after centuries, finally, a new empress had risen from the many emperor's ruling Eveene.

Another stare from her secondary companion. A loyal soldier shooting a look at the beast that had one upped him with his position. Astrophel could feel that burning glare, but he didn't dare stray his attention away from his empress.