#Queentober | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

izzy-b-hands · 4 years

Text

Rock/Queentober 2020, Oct. 18th: Light

Assigned band member: Roger

Synopsis: Roger/Trans M Reader. Set about 1978 because I wanted it to be lol. You’ve hit a rough patch in life as of the last few days, but at least you have your health, your things, and a cigarette or two that you can smoke to deal with the stress. That you should meet Roger is pure chance, but lucky chance indeed.

TW: Cigarettes and smoking, mentions of fears over period typical homophobia and transphobia. Mention of potential homelessness.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“Got a light?”

You shake your head and raise your own unlit cigarette. “No matches, lighter is empty. Been hoping someone else would happen along with a light.”

“Aren’t we a pair then?” he smiles, and you can’t help but feel a bit dazzled. Even with sunglasses hiding part of his face, you can tell he is perhaps one of the prettiest men you’ve ever met. With blonde hair artfully ruffled (though he almost certainly didn’t do it on purpose, if you had to guess), a smile like that, and the way the tight t-shirt he’s wearing under his coat had shifted up just a bit to show some of the skin at his hip...

Well. Your friends did tease you for having a type.

“Pissing like this all day, no wonder no one else is out,” he sighs and gestures to the rain, that had started pouring that morning lightly and showed no signs of stopping.

“A little dreary,” you admit. “But I don’t mind it.”

“Might have guessed,” he smiles again and god he really should warn a guy before he does that, because your heart just flutters, and the rain may be cold but you’re suddenly very warm.

You shrug. “Nowhere else to go right now anyway. May as well enjoy the day for what it is.”

He nods, and you hope he hasn’t noticed your shivering. You’ve got your warmest jacket on, but the wind and rain are really doing a number on you.

“You know, the shop down the way has matches. Why don’t we go together and pick some up? Can at least be smoking, if we’re going to be out in this,” he says.

“Oh, that’s okay, I-” you pause. ‘Have no money to my name and so can’t pay you back for the matches and the last thing I want to do is take advantage of your kindness, you gorgeous man’ is not the way you want to end your sentence, but it’s the most truthful way.

Somehow, he knows, or maybe your situation is more evident than you think. “Let me get them, don’t worry about money or whatever. Only matches anyway, and I don’t mind doing a favor for someone as handsome as you.”

You blush. So forward! But you’d be lying if you didn’t admit to yourself that you loved it. There was always the worry, the what-if that the guy you’re talking to isn’t gay (and worse yet might chase you off down the road if they gleaned that you were, and even worse if they sussed out that you were trans too.) It was a weight off your shoulders to have that what-if erased, especially after the day you’d been having.

“Long as I’m not keeping you from anything,” you manage as you stumble over your tongue.

“Nah. My band is in that building there,” he points to the nearby studio, a nondescript dark brick building. “Recording, but we were on overdub number 9000 and I was dying, so I snuck out.”

“They’ll have noticed you’re gone by now!”

“Yeah, but they aren’t out looking for me yet, so I’m safe,” he grins. “Come on. It’ll get us out of the rain for a bit, and we can finally light up.”

You nod, and follow him down the street, both of you huddled over as the rain pours slightly harder.

“Roger,” he offers his name with another smile, and are your knees weak or are you just that cold?

“Y/N,” you offer back.

“Y/N,” he repeats softly. “So, what are you doing out here anyway?”

You bite your lip anxiously. “It’s awkward. Lost my flat today; contract was up and the landlord waited until today to drop on me that he had a new tenant all lined up already, willing to pay triple what I was paying.”

“Fucker,” Roger spits. “Where are your things?”

“You know those bushes and shrubs we were standing by?” you ask.

He nods.

“I’ve got my two suitcases hidden in there for now, so it might be a little less obvious why I’m wandering the streets with no apparent purpose,” you continue.

He gives you a look, and before you can stop him, jogs back to the bushes.

He returns more slowly, weighed down by the suitcase in each hand, his still unlit cigarette carefully crooked in between his fingers on his left hand.

“You didn’t have to-”

“We are not leaving your shit to be stolen,” he interrupts with a shocked laugh. “Honestly. No, I’ll help you carry and look after it.”

He won’t hand over the heavier of the suitcases as you reach the shop, no matter how much you try and insist.

“Look,” you gently grab his shoulder before you go into the shop. “I’m not...trying to take advantage of anyone’s charity. With this. I mean, I wasn’t raised that way.”

He cocks his head. “American.”

“What?”

“Thought the accent seemed off. You’ve been here awhile, but not long enough to sound like you didn’t move here from elsewhere. And only an American would say something silly like that.”

“You caught me,” you smile. “But really-”

“Please,” he interrupts as he leads the way into the shop. “Let me help. I want to, or I wouldn’t be here, I promise. I’d be on overdub 3 million with no voice left at all in the studio instead.”

“And dying for a smoke?”

“That too,” he replies as he speeds through the transaction for the matches, not that the clerk seems to care.

“I don’t mean to pry,” he says as you both step back outside, the rain still pouring away heavily. “But where are you planning on going?”

“Isn’t that the question,” you sigh, watching as he motions you over off the sidewalk so he can set your suitcase down and light his cigarette. “I don’t know? I think the park nearby could be safe...but I don’t think I can just choose a bench and sleep, the police will come shoo me away I’m sure. But if I rest, and go from bench to bench, maybe...”

He takes off his sunglasses, and you’re met with big blue eyes, full of concern. “What about your job?”

You nod. “It’s been a week, for me. I got let go a few days ago. They could afford to keep me, or one of my friends at the shop...and I lost that battle.”

He frowns, and takes your cigarette from you, lighting it with his. “Well, I don’t know if I have a job for you, I have to check on that. But I’ve got a room, or I will have in a day.”

You’re in awe over the most casually romantic thing anyone’s done for you before, his thing with the cigarettes, but you manage a weak gasp. “You don’t know me.”

“Not yet I don’t,” he agrees as he hands back your cigarette. “But I tell you what. You come back to the studio with me. Get out of the rain, have dinner with us. Then we’ll all know you well.”

“But-”

“I won’t press it if you aren’t comfortable with it,” he interrupts gently. “But I do need a new roommate. My old one, our singer, has been dating the guitarist for a bit, and they’re finally moving in together. So I need someone in the room regardless. And we may not know each other too well yet, but I know you’re handsome, kind, and I don’t want to see you out on the streets. Personally, I think something aligned so that we’d meet up today.”

“It isn’t that I’m uncomfortable with it,” you admit. “I just...if my family knew I was taking someone’s kindness like this, the things they’d say...”

“Where are they, back in America?” Roger asks as he picks up your suitcase, and starts down the road towards the studio, with you on his heels.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“Well then, sounds like what they think doesn’t matter for this situation, because they aren’t here for it,” he continues. “You’re here, it’s your situation, and you get to decide what you want to do about it.”

“That...is a very good point,” you say.

“Every now and again I manage them,” he grins, even as the tree you’re passing dumps a decent puddle of water on him, nearly putting out his cigarette. “So. What do you, Y/N, want to do?”

Your mother would scream at you to be wary of strangers, to trust your gut.

But your gut feels fine. In fact, this is the safest and happiest you’ve felt in weeks. It could be a mistake, yes, but it doesn’t feel like one, to trust Roger.

“I want to try and find a new job, right away,” you start. “So I can start paying my portion of the rent at your flat, if you mean it, and you’ll really have me in as a roommate.”

He stops in front of the door to the studio, and somehow that smile is even brighter than before, and your heart flutters yet again.

“And...” you take a deep breath. “I may be misreading a signal, and if I am, please tell me and I’ll back off. But...I’m getting the feeling maybe I could end up being more. Than a roommate. And I would like that too, a lot, and there’s one other thing I should just ask rather than stumbling around it but-”

He giggles as he stamps out his cigarette, too damp for him to finish.

You toss yours aside and do the same. “Do I have to wait to kiss you until we get to your flat? Or can I do that now, before we go in?”

The kiss he gives you, sweet and tinged with tobacco, is the answer you’d been hoping for.

The door swings open, and a tall, curly-haired man scoffs. “There you fucking are!”

“Here I fucking am,” Roger smirks.

“Where did you go?”

“Out for a smoke,” Roger replies taking your free hand as he pulls you along with him into the studio, past the man. “Made a friend too. Well, more than a friend, but it’s early.”

“I...what...” the poor thing ruffles the curls that are long enough to hit his shoulders. “Fine, whatever. Pleased to meet you, ah...”

“Y/N,” you say. “I’m taking over the spare room Roger said he’ll have in a day or so?”

The man nods, and gestures to himself. “Brian. Freddie’s moving in with me tonight, actually. Thought it would take longer, but we realized he’s slowly dragged over most of his things already when he’s come over to mine, so there’s not much left to move.”

“That’s fine,” Roger says, taking your other suitcase from you and setting both of them aside. “We might not need the extra room anyway.”

It feels too forward to do more than nod, but in your head, you’re thrilled at the thought of going home with him tonight. And even better, the thought of coming home to him each day. It’s early days and you know better than to hang onto it all too hard, to presume it will all go perfectly.

But all the same, this is the best and most secure you’ve felt about anything in ages, and when he introduces you to the rest of the band (the mentioned Freddie and their bassist, John), holding your hand and squeezing it ever so gently, it feels like another sign.

This is going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. More than okay, even.

The way things are looking, you might even be happy.

#text post #LeeH writes #queen band fic #Lee's Rock/Queentober 2020 #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x trans reader

13 notes · View notes

fernwehbookworm · 5 years

Text

Knight of Kandor- Chapter 2

It took nearly a fortnight to make our way to Kandor. The army had been deep in disputed border lands. Luckily some of my training included map reading and navigation when I began to show promise for command. I had never been to Krypton's capital city so I had to rely on that training to get us there. When we crested the last hill, I made us halt for the night, looking down on the flatlands that surrounded the walls.

"But there is plenty of light to make it before dark." John protests, no doubt hoping for an actual bed.

"I have never been to court, but I plan on doing it without weeks of travel and dirt on myself and my horse." John dismounts, I don't and he looks up at me questioningly.

"Start setting up camp. I am going to the stream we passed at the bottom of the hill. When I return you will go and bathe also." He nods and begins unloading the cart attached to his horse.

My horse makes the easy decent quickly. The sun was still high in the sky when I reached the stream. The stream was deep and the water still cool despite the heat of summer. I find a place where trees and undergrowth live close to the water. I unsaddle comet and allow my beautiful white horse to wade into the stream to drink. I strip myself and grab the bar of soap I made sure to keep in my saddle bags. I made it a point to seek out soap makers in major towns we passed near on campaign. I wade into the water next to Comet, where it comes up to my waist. I wash my hair and body, feeling the dirt and dust wash away in the slow-moving current. It felt so damn good. Then I wash my wrapping and tunic, laying them both on a flat rock to dry in the sun. I grab my wooden travel bowl from the saddles and use it to shovel water onto Comets back. By the end, I barely have enough soap left to hold. I make a mental note to search the capitol for some when I get the chance.

I lead Comet back to the shore so he can dry himself. I dress in spare clothing that are loose and little used but will do for tonight. Using fresh straw in the saddlebags, I rub Comet down to dry him. Saddled, I walk beside him back up the hill to see how John is doing.

John has done a lot. Both of our tents are erected, a fire burns hot between them, and his own horse is groomed and tied to a tree so it can graze on the lush hillside grass. I hand John the last of the soap and he descends the hill on foot. I tie Comet with John's horse and unsaddle him. I find my bow in my tent and descend the opposite side of the hill in search of game. We had dried meat and hard loaves but I wanted something more filling.

Within an hour I manage to kill a rabbit, a clean shot through its eye. I make my way back to the fire and have the rabbit cleaned and roasting on a spit before John returns. I leave John to tend the meat and dig out the rest of our rations for an actual meal. I compose my last letter to the Prince from the isolation of my tent. Letting him know we arrived at the city and that this would be my last report to him. I had sent letters during our travel as John and I stopped in various towns. I would have him send the last when we arrived tomorrow.

When I emerge again I see that John actually fetched water and was making a thin soup with the fresh meat, a few shrunken vegetables, and the rest of the dried meat. He had the dry loaves ready to soak up the broth. However, the boy had wits enough to keep some of the fresh meat out of the thin broth. John rolled a log to either side of the fire for seats. He hands me a leg being kept warm on a flat rock near the flames.

I give John a small approving nod and sit with him. I had learned early to hide my emotions, allowing almost nothing but battle rage to break my calm exterior. John now sought out these small gestures once he learned it was the only approval he would ever receive from me. After the leg, I have a small bowl of soup and one of the three hard rolls. I let the growing boy eat the rest. Then I send him to bed and take first watch while I polish my armor. I hadn't worn the full plate mail since leaving the army an I was starting to feel nervous. I had some training on how to conduct myself around royalty and had spent time with the Prince, but proper conduct was very loose surrounded by men on a killing field.

I wake John for his watch and sleep restlessly for a couple hours. Then, like always, I dress myself in full armor for our arrival. John was disappointed his first few weeks as my squire. when he arrived to find me dressed without his assistance, but soon he came to accept it with every one of my other quirks. I believe that he thought it was my low birth and lack of a formal education.

We move about the camp in a comfortable silence. A rhythm that only people who had spent a year traveling together could have. We reach the moat surrounding the city before noon. The city was in a large flat valley, surrounded by grasslands and rolling hills. The river cut through the land on the west side of the city. Any attackers would be completely exposed long before reaching the outer wall and moat. The moat closes at sunset each night, which is part of the reason I stopped early the day before.

Soldiers halt us before we cross the bridge. After presenting them with the parchments from both prince and Queen, riders are sent ahead and soldiers fell in alongside us. The capital city was sectioned off in four concentrate circles of walls. Each wall rose taller than the one before, the castle on the crest of the hill in the center of the city. The guard changed at each new gate. Obviously status and money increased at each new level of the city. The sun was sitting low in the sky by the time we reached the final gate. Crowds pressed in about us, barely moving out of the way for the armored men shoving through, as they finish their shopping and business for the day.

The final gate groans open in front of us. The doors were easily taller than me five times over. Each took two large plow horses on the other side to pull open. I was beginning to realize the castle was a fortress and also how hard it would be for an assassin to breach the walls. From my short education, I knew the castle had never been taken in its history. Most sieges could barely pass the outer wall of the city.

In the large cobblestone courtyard, young stable hands took our horses and our latest vanguard led us into one of the biggest building I have ever seen. I refused to look up because I knew whatever I saw would break my calm composure. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see John's head craned back, mouth gaping. I adjust the baldric over my shoulder and lift the hilt slightly to check and see if it was clear of the scabbard, a nervous tick that I could not kick. I focus on the back of the guard in front me, refusing to be impressed or allow my low birth to show. In my peripheral vision, I see us pass through a grand entrance hall, down a large corridor, and stop in front of a large oaken door. Guards on either side pull them open so we can file through. Our steps echo loudly in the large open room. Tapestries hang the length of the room bearing the royal families crest. A black diamond-like shield on a field of emerald green. Emblazoned on the shield is an ornate letter L embossed in gold.

Two thrones sat on a platform, one clearly larger and more ornate than the other. Around the thrones stood a few men and women, richly dressed and standing tall. Each one, however, was put to shame by the women sitting in the middle of them. On the more ornate throne was the Queen. A cold power emanated from her. My knees grew weak at the gaze of her dark eyes. I felt like she could see all of me, my deepest secrete. They trapped me and I could not look anywhere else because I feared if I did she would expose me.

"Presenting Sir Kal El Ward. Sworn knight of the Prince, Protector of the Queen-in-waiting. " The page announces, his voice carrying easily and surely in the large room. I kneel, now formally introduced, and bow my head. I feel every eye in front of and behind me searing against my skin.

"Rise, Sir Ward." An emotionless voice says above me. It is sharp and clear but leaves me on edge. I do as the Queen bids, drawing back to my full height, chin held proudly upward. I meet the cold azure eyes that bore into my own. I have to force my face to remain expressionless while the queen examines me in the silence of the hall.

"You were not born to be a knight," she states, I fear my voice would betray so I simply nod.

"But you have bested all the men serving my son and proven your worth time and time again." I nod.

"All with no formal education, only the necessary skills needed for command." Another nod.

"Which is why you fear to speak." The last question catches me off guard. I clear my throat and finally open my mouth to speak.

"Yes, your majesty." I choose the safest most formal address I knew. The corner of the queen's mouth twitch, betraying her amusement.

"Good, he can speak. That will make this much easier. You are expected to learn everything you need for court while protecting my daughter, your future queen." At the mention of the Queen-in-waiting, I finally look at her.

My mouth goes dry and my heart thuds in my ears. Her eyes are so green and sharp that I feel them pierce into my soul. Behind the coldness in them is an emotion I cannot quite decipher. Was it resentment, hate, or maybe even just indifference? The sharp features of her face are framed by wavy hair, as black as raven's wings. She wore a green dress that perfectly matched her eyes and the color of the Luthor coat of arms. She sits with her back rigid and no emotion in her features. I see her make a small movement that I take for a nod and return my gaze to the queen with some trouble. Breath fills my lungs again that I did not know I had lost.

"Now for your tutors. You will spend every morning before daybreak with a different one. Lady Catherine will teach you proper court behavior, manners, and whatever else she sees fit. Master Winslow will see to your reading and lettering. Sir James is our Master at Arms and will continue your training. Every fourth morning you will report to me with your tutors to review your progress."

As Queen Lillian spoke each name, the person belonging to it gave a nod. Lady Catherine was a stick of a woman, her face hard and hair pulled back in an intricate braid. She looked like a proud woman, one I should never cross. Master Winslow was a small, pale man with light brown hair. A smile barely kept from his face was enough to show me someone who loved his job. Sir James was a dark-skinned man, head shaved close to the scalp, his armor the green of the Luthor's with the crest emblazoned on the chaste plate. Suddenly I am aware of how damaged and cheap my own armor is. Sir James seemed just as happy as Master Winslow but was better able to hide it.

"Now Sir James will inform you of our safety measures and familiarize you with the castle and surrounding grounds."

Sir James descends the platform, stops next to me, and turns back to face the group he just left. He bows, I follow his lead, just a breath behind. The Queen dismisses us with a wave of her hand and I follow the master at arms out of the hall.

We walk briskly through the castle, even so, the tour takes up the rest of the day remaining. Sir James talking the whole time, bothered by the one-sided conversation. Torches are being lit when we finally reach a dead end hallway. The entrance to it is guarded by two men on either side. At the end of the hallway is another large double door, on one side is a smaller door.

"That is your room, right across from the princesses. Sorry, Queen-in-waiting. I watched that girl grow up and I am still not used to the new title. She turned twenty-five but to me, she is still five years old running around the castle barefoot." he seems to realize what he just said and clears his throat.

"Be at Lady Catherine's personal chambers tomorrow morning. After that, you will start your duties, send your squire to me if you require guidance. I will also help you in our own sessions. Dinner will be severed in an hour in the lesser hall." Without a further word he turned and left.

I open the door to my new home. My belongings are already at the foot of my bed in the small chamber. John must have been the one to bring it up because nothing is unpacked and he knows I do not like my stuff touched. I throw the bolt on the door and make a mental note to have something stronger put in place. I began loosening the straps on my armor and placing it carefully on the bed. I find a washbasin in the corner and smile at the warm water, meaning John had it heated for me. He knew how much I hated being dirty, I spent much more of my pay than I should have on those soaps I love. It was a luxury not many could afford or would try to. I had no more now but I stripped completely and used the soft cloth to wash the sweat and dirt from my body.

I dressed in my bust tunic and boots, well best of the three I owned. I descended to the hall that Sir James had shown me earlier. I sat in a corner and a serving girl placed a plate laden with food in front of me. I pick at the rich fair that is almost too much for my stomach. I grew up on plain food and lived on army rations since I was fourteen, I feared the rich food would make me ill. Instead, I pick up my tankard of ale and watch the hall while I sip it slowly. I watch interactions of the people in the room. Most the men are loud and boisterous, the women fair and flirting. I felt a stranger looking on a different world.

Suddenly my view was blocked by a grinning, bright-eyed, man. My eyes focus on Master Winslow's face and I stare unblinkingly back. Some of the eagerness leaves his face at my expressionless features but he speaks anyways.

"I cannot believe you are actually here. Rumors of your deeds of valor have reached us even this far north. I mean, I can not find any other account of a peasant boy rising so high and so quickly. I should know, I am the court scribe and bookkeeper. I have read thousands of reports and..." He trails off at the lack of reactions from me.

"You are a very serious man." I nod. Somehow he finds this funny and laughs.

"I think I am going to like teaching you." I stand and look down at him.

"Goodnight, Master Winslow."

"Winn," he says and I give him a questioning look.

"My friends call me Winn."

I nod and leave, my feet growing heavier with every step on my way back to my room. I throw the bolt and quickly strip and fall into bed. It was the softest thing I had ever felt and I fell quickly into a deep sleep.

I watched the blond man's back as he left with James. The rest of our party left shortly after the two knights. Leaving me alone with mother and my two guards.

"I do not need another guard mother. I do not even wish to have the ones already I do." I say icily.

"I do not care what you wish. An attempt was made on your life and this constant cycle of guards is dangerous, hence the personal guard. Not only that, a guard who has fought our enemy, who has learned how they think and gone above and beyond to defeat them. Sir Kal has proven his worth so you will be protected by him. Now return to your ladies. Tomorrow night will be a feast welcoming the war hero home." Queen Lillian leaves no room to protest as she purposefully strides out of the room. Leaving me in an empty hall with only the silent guards. Lillian Luthor had a way with long-winded speeches that did not let the other person respond.

I sigh and head to the sitting room where I know my ladies-in-waiting were anticipating my return. Planning the feast fell to us so the room becomes a flurry of activity. Pages are sent out to invite Dukes, Earls, and anyone else with any remote royal standing or titles. Most the ladies leave to set about the necessary tasks such as decor, entertainment, and food. I am left with the one person I trust fully and the guards standing just outside the door. She is the only friend I have too. Jessica continues to work on the embroidery in her hands, a bandage still wrapped around her palm. It slows her movements and causes her to wince occasionally. I sit and stare into the fire. The stillness of the room and the soft cracking of the flames cause my thoughts to wonder.

Jess and I were walking through the royal gardens. They were closed to all but those of the royal court. She was babbling on about some knight in the army that was rumored to have fought through twenty men to each the Prince, who was surrounded with only his squire to protect him. It all sounded so embellished and ridiculous but Jessica was ecstatic so I nodded and smiled and made all the approving sounds a friend should. Around the bend in the path, a tall figure appears. I nearly run into the man but draw up just short. Jessica stops next to me as well, her feet at the same time as her mouth.

"Jackson!" I exclaim, a grin spreading across my face. His expression matches mine. He takes my hand and bows to place a soft kiss on the back of it.

"My lady, we have talked about this. Please call me Jack." Jack's hand lingers in mine just a moment too long but the feel of his skin sends heat through my entire body. From the corner of my eye, I see Jessica step back a little as Jack transfers my hand to his arm and begin to walk the way he came. Jessica stays a few steps behind us as we stroll arm and arm through my favorite place in the castle. The gardens were always so peaceful and one of the few places I could be myself without prying eyes of gossiping servants and members of the court.

We walk down the path, I point out different plants and each time Jack whispers that it isn't as beautiful as me, my smile grows with each compliment. I had known the man since we were children. His family lived in the southernmost lands of Krypton but Jack and his father were often at court. We knew it was purposeful, our parents conspiring to have us married but we were both fine with that. He was the tall dark and handsome type that every woman swooned for. A strong jaw covered by a well-groomed dark beard. Dark eyes that never strayed from mine even when surrounded by fawning women. Jack always danced with me and no other at any feast or celebration. I knew one day soon he would ask my mother's permission to marry me.

We stopped just short of the door that led back to the castle. The gardens were nestled in the courtyard surrounded by the sprawling walls of my home. The only entrance was where we stood, guards posted on the other side of the door. Jack turns toward me and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His hand rests on my cheek. I know what comes next. It had never gone further than a kiss but I always craved more. Jack refused me only to claim the defense of my honor. I close my eyes and lean into him.

My head snaps to the side as my shoulder hits the door hard. A scream rips through the air and when my vision focuses again I see Jessica standing over me. She grips the blade of a knife that Jack pulls back from her grasp, causing it to slice deeper into her flesh. Another cry escapes her lips. Jack roughly pushes the brave, stupid, girl to the side.

"I am sorry Lena. But they have my family. If I do this they will let them live and grant us lands and titles in Cadmium."

I do not even have time to think of a response before the loud thunk of metal hitting flesh and bone. Jack crumples and Sir James appears behind him, fist still extended from his own downward strike to Jack's head.

"That's Queen-in-waiting to you." James pulls me to my feet and guards outside the door follow him in.

"My lady? My lady?" a hand on my shoulder shakes me from my dark thoughts. Jessica of course.

"My lady, it is time to dress for supper." I nod and allow her to lead me to my rooms. I nod and allow her to lead me to my rooms.

A man exits the only other room in the hall. He was dressed in a blue tunic with gold trimming. It looked well worn and a little out of place in the ornate castle. His blues eyes pass over me as he turns back to lock the door he just exited. They are made all the sharper by the cloth he wears. His hair was so yellow that it was almost golden, which was also out of place this far north, especially among the nobility. It was Sir Kal. He was leaner than his armor had lead me to believe. Sir Kal turned the key in the lock and left without sparing me a second glance.

"That's him. The man who saved the Prince." Jessica whispers as we enter my chambers.

Chapter 3

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #KoK #medeival #knight #queentobe #au

5 notes · View notes