#IT'S A FULL ASS CHAPTER FJCFO;SAIHEFOIJ

[waltwhitmansbeard]

my fair lady: drabble #9

i blame you for this, anon. every time you think you're out of the drabble game, an ask pulls you right back in. this takes place before mfl, at the very beginning of things. (not, like, the beginning of time. you know what i mean.) read all this first and then also read @romeoandjulietyouwish's medieval au, which inspired it all!

Keyleth has been avoiding the cherry tree on the edge of the castle grounds for months now. She normally doesn't go so long between visits, but since war was declared with the Kingdom of Draconia, she had been assigned a guard, a specter to haunt her wherever she goes in case of enemy attack on the castle. Having grown up with free reign over the palace and its grounds, she is chafing under the strain of her guards' eyes—at least, she has been.

But a few weeks ago, the strangest thing happened. She had had a nightmare, which is not strange at all, not these days, and when she startled herself awake from it, gasping and terrified, someone was there: her night guard, Vax'ildan, with his dagger drawn and eyes searching for danger. She'd felt so foolish, accidentally convincing this guard that she'd been in actual peril, but he could not have been kinder about the situation. He took her in his arms and held her, let her breathing return to normal as the nightmare slunk away like a fox in the night. It was the safest she could remember feeling, well, ever, really, and since then, she has seen this guard, this once-spy-turned-protector, in a different light, one she cannot quite define for herself.

Vax'ildan has recently been promoted to her day guard, which she knows makes his sister, the Captain of the Royal Guard, happy, and now he follows her around in the daylight, and somehow the shadow feels lighter, less burdensome. She attends meetings about the war and roots around in her garden and studies in the library, and he is there, and the eyes don't chafe quite so much.

And yet she has not returned to the tree. That place is hers, a place for her to talk to her mother, to say aloud the things she cannot say within the walls of the castle. Her mother hears her frustrations, her fears, her hopes, her desires, and she does not pass judgement. Keyleth is the most herself when under the sprawling branches of the cherry tree, and she knows she cannot go much longer without visiting, lest she explode in the middle of the throne room.

Vax'ildan must sense this, because one late autumn day, when Keyleth is bent over some texts in the library, staring out across the south lawn toward the distant cherry tree, she sighs, and he says quietly, "Your Highness?"

Keyleth turns to him in surprise. She's somehow grown so accustomed to his presence that she sometimes forgets that he's there, just a few dozen feet away, with his back against a wall. "Yes, Vax'ildan?"

"I..." He looks around, as if checking for listening ears, and then proceeds. "I notice you often look toward that tree rather wistfully these days. My sister tells me that your late mother is buried there, is that correct?"

Keyleth's brow furrows. He noticed her staring at the tree? She supposes she hasn't been attempting subtlety in her longing, but still, she had not expected the man tasked with saving her life to pick up on such a thing. "That is correct, yes."

"Forgive my impudence, but...if you should like to visit her, I can stay back. Not in the castle, of course, but...I will give you as much space to be with her as I can."

Keyleth searches his face, and she sees many things there she's seen in other faces before: respect, sympathy, an eagerness to please. But there's something else, something rarer: recognition. Vax'ildan sees this desire in her, this need to be with her mother, and Keyleth knows that he understands it implicitly.

"I...thank you, Vax'ildan." She can feel her face warming, which is embarrassing in and of itself. "I have always gone to visit her alone, and...well. I've never felt comfortable bringing others along."

"Of course, Your Highness, and I did not mean to assume."

"No, I—" Oh, why is she blushing so? She is being ridiculous. "I am grateful for the offer." She looks back out the window, suddenly shy. "Perhaps tomorrow? If the weather holds."

"As you wish, Your Highness."

Keyleth turns her eyes back to her text, but she does not read another word until it is time to dress for dinner.

.

The next day, the princess asks Vax if he would be willing to accompany her across the grounds to the cherry tree beneath which her mother rests. It is, of course, a silly question, because it is his job to follow her wherever she wishes to go, but he ducks his head in an acquiescent bow and says, "It would be an honor, Your Highness."

Something about those words makes the tips of her ears flush pink, but he does not allow himself to read into it. She bundles herself in a fur-lined cloak and the two strike out onto the south lawn. As they walk, him always a few feet behind, he notices her posture change. The closer they get to the tree, the more her shoulders relax, the more her spine loses its standard upright position. When the tree is about fifty yards away, she stops, turns to him, and says, "Would it be alright if you waited here?"

Vax quickly scans their surroundings and, not seeing anywhere in particular from where an enemy could spring an attack, says, "Yes, Your Highness, I will stay here until you are ready."

Relief colors her face. "Thank you. I...I won't take long."

"Take as long as you need, Your Highness. I'm not going anywhere."

She gives him a curious look, one that he does not understand, and then turns and continues the rest of the way toward the tree. Once at its base, she sits, resting her back against the bark. The ground must be cold and hard; winter is just around the corner, and the cherry tree's branches are bare. One could not tell from her demeanor, as she sits back against the tree as one might a plush chaise lounge, more comfortable than Vax thinks he's ever seen her. Though he cannot hear her, he can tell by the slight movement of her hands and head that she is talking, saying something aloud that he knows is not meant for any to hear but the wind.

He watches her, and he thinks of his own mother, buried in Byroden, far from where he and his sister could ever visit. His life is metered by regrets, but that is one of his greatest. There are other ways they pay homage to her—every meal he cooks, every folk song Vex sings as she restrings her bow—but what he wouldn't give to be able to kneel before her resting place and confess each thought he has not been able to speak since coming to Zephrah, since taking up as this wild princess's guard.

Because those thoughts cannot be heard, not by any living soul. His ruminations about the princess, the way he lies awake at night thinking about her, remembering the way she looked tending to her autumn gourds in the garden, wondering if she's just as sleepless as he is, wishing he could be there when those terrible dreams haunt her in the night—none of that can be known. His...fascination with her is his burden to bear, his obstacle to overcome, and he cannot put his or his sister's careers in jeopardy just because he finds himself daydreaming about the way she smells when he should be on alert for the dangers that may come for her.

After a short while, the princess has stopped talking, and Vax thinks that perhaps she will be getting up to leave soon. But then her head bows low, and her shoulders begin to shake, and Vax realizes that she is weeping. Her hands come up to cover her face, and his stomach sinks like a stone. He knows this grief, the acute ache in the bones of missing someone who will never return, and he wishes with all of his heart to be able to take it from her, free her of this pain. To watch her cry alone beneath the bare branches of this tree is torture, but he must stay back, must give her this space to grieve.

And yet. He takes a step forward, though his mind screams for him to stay put. He takes another, and another, and his body, unbidden, uncontrollable, closes the distance to the princess, until he is feet away, where he very much ought not to be. He kneels beside her, and then slowly reaches a hand out to rest on her shoulder. She does not flinch, but rather turns and throws herself into him, burying her face into his chest as her sobs intensify. Against every better judgement, he wraps his arms around her, keeping himself tall while she falls apart against him. He rubs a hand up and down her back, which shakes with the force of her tears, and he prays to the gods that they cannot be seen from the castle right now.

It takes several minutes for the princess to cry herself out, and when she does, she sits up, wiping at her eyes with an embarrassed flush to her cheeks. "I am sorry, Vax'ildan. I should never have imposed on you like this."

"Your Highness, please." How to make her understand, make her see that there is nowhere else he'd rather be right now than on this hard, cold ground with her? "I...merely did not want you to be alone in your grief, which, now that I say it out loud, was exactly what you had asked for, so it is I who must apologize."

"Please don't." She smiles softly. "I...I have not been sleeping well, these past nights, not since..." She trails off, but he does not need her to complete the thought: since he stopped standing guard outside her door at night. "I find great comfort in your presence, Vax'ildan."

Oh, this traitorous heart. He ignores its leaping into his throat. "I am glad to hear it, Your Highness. It is certainly better than the alternative."

"Would you..." Her skin reddens even further, and she casts her eyes downward. "Never mind. I have burdened you enough already."

In a move that ought to cost him his hand, he reaches a knuckle out to guide her chin back up. "Do not ever hesitate to ask me for anything, Your Highness. Ever."

She blinks in surprise, and then she whispers, "Would you be willing to come to me tonight? Just so that I may sleep? I know you give so much to my family already, and I am loath to ask for more—"

"Of course I will." He agrees without thinking, without sparing a thought for the questions his sister will inevitably ask. He was shown the secret access to her chambers when he was hired on, in case he needs to assist her flight from the castle in an attack. He drops his hand. "I will come once my shift ends. Listen for a knock on the false wall."

Her body sags even further in relief. "This is a great kindness, Vax'ildan, truly. You do not know how much I appreciate it."

"I am always happy to be of service, Your Highness." And gods, he is. "You...if you wish, you may call me Vax. Everyone does."

"Vax." She turns the name over in her mouth, as if savoring a favorite sweet. "Thank you, Vax. In return, though I know it is improper, I would love it if you were to call me Keyleth. At least when we are just us two. I do not love being called Your Highness so much. I am not so high up, I should think. My feet are on the ground as everyone else's are."

The urge to kiss her is so overwhelming it nearly knocks the breath from his lungs. To recover, he stands and reaches a hand down toward her. "Then Keyleth—" Her name tastes like warm wine on a winter's night. "—should we head back to the castle?"

She looks toward the palace and sighs. "I suppose we must." She places her hand in his and lets him help her to her feet, and if their hands linger in each other's for a moment longer than they should, neither of them acknowledge it. "Thank you again, for coming with me here. I...should not go so long between visits again. I've needed to speak with her greatly."

"We can return whenever you wish, Your—Keyleth." He catches himself with a laugh. "That shall take some getting used to."

"Well, let us hope you are here for long enough for it to become habit," she replies, and as they make their way back toward the castle, he no longer trails behind her, instead keeping apace with her in the warm autumn sunshine.