#knight!ghost

[finemadeline]

Knight!ghost x maid!reader

Warnings: Light gore, heavy smut, 18+

@readgoods wonderful artwork of Ghost in armor with a codpiece changed my brain chemistry

The kingdom should have Ghosts head for this.

Let his head loll to the ground after the blade sliced through flesh and bone, and stab it on a stake to parade around the kingdom — a message to those who think of disobeying the crown. To those who wish to commit high treason among the monarchy.

But greed is hungry. It consumes, and it takes. It makes his senses dull and his eyes linger when you walk by, tracing your features out of the corner of his eye. Makes a deep ravenous ache deep in his gut, that coils around his ribs and tightens around his heart.

It makes him weak, and soft. Forces his hand, and makes him seek you out in the dead of night to the servant quarters to hear you chatter on about your day, or sneak decadent treats from the ballroom to the room you’ve been assigned to see you smile.

The kingdom should strip him of his titles for this.

Take away his power, his roles, his possessions. Leave him bare and banish him to the wastelands, leaving him to fend for himself in the woods. Let the wolves finish him off and turn his bones into peat.

Ghost should be outside the princess's door. Waiting for her to call his name sickeningly sweet — her eyes filled with mirth and her makeup garish. He should be there, at her beck and call, protecting the Princess. Serving the crown, rotten or not.

That is his duty. That is his honor.

But his hands followed his eyes when they wandered. His brain strayed along, lagging behind his heart. He let temptation consume him and leave his duty behind. Let his fingers graze yours in passing — let himself follow you when you slinked into the servant quarters to busy yourself with duties.

He could no longer think of the consequences. Not when his hands pulled you into the nearest closet, pushing up your dress as his mouth clamped onto your neck, your soft whimpers making his ears fill with cotton as the curve of your thighs made his body pulse with need.

“You are a temptress.” He hisses, grabbing your hips and pulling you to grind against his codpiece. Ghosts hips rush to meet yours, pushing against you to catch your cunt against the cold metal. When he reaches to pull the hood of your clit as he grinds the codpiece closer, your thighs shake with need.

He relishes in your moans, nibbling onto your ear as two fingers tap your lips. “Open,” he rasps, pulling his fingers from your thigh to instead rest on your cheek, squeezing them together. When you open your mouth, his tongue hurries to meet yours.

It’s filthy in the way its teeth and tongue, his tongue pushing deeper into your mouth to hear you keen for him, only pulling away when you squirm — your glassy eyes and bated breath almost making his eyes roll into his head.

His lips move to your neck, tonguing at the salty sweat made. He threatens to bite, to crack your bones open and sink into your marrow to make a home there — and you do nothing but tilt your head away to give him more access.

He’d much rather kneel to you. Lower his head to kiss your hand — ignoring the chipped nails and gnarled skin, or the ratty clothes and dirt stains— and watch you night and day, waiting for you to call for him. No longer serving the rotten, but something much sweeter. Much softer.

Your whines of his name break him out of his fervor, hips canting faster as you approach your peak. He should punish you, he thinks. Pull his hips away and watch your release slip from your grasp for bringing him to his knees so easily. For weakening his heart so greatly.

But he relishes in the way your body squirms as you come, hips twitching as you bite your bottom lip to silence your moans. When you lean back onto him, reaching up for a kiss, he then knows he can deny you nothing.

He will give you everything.

He deserves to serve something more sweeter. More softer.

Link to photo reference! : https://www.tumblr.com/readgoods/778351895707287552/knight-ghost

[cinnamongrl2006]

♱ Knight!Simon Riley x Princess!reader ♱ part one | part 2

a/n: I love knight x princess stories, maybe because I want a strong capable man to take care of me, oh well, who knows. Also, I can't write accents phonetically for the life of me, so take what I give you plspls!!

warnings: fem reader, pure fluff, sfw

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♱ Knight!Simon Riley who fell in love with you the second he stepped foot in the castle. He was assigned to watch and take care of you, the princess, before a worthy suitor whisked you away to another land, where you were to rule as queen.

That was the plan your family, your kingdom had set out for you, that was the future that awaited you. That was the future you wanted, or so you thought until you met him, your knight. The townspeople and the people of the court called him Ghost, they worshipped him almost as if he was a legend, they feared him.

He was tall, big all over. He'd expected you to be somewhat reluctant at his sudden proximity, scared of him, repulsed at his appearance— at his grotesque appearance, he thought, big gloved hands gripping the sword in his belt, face covered by his dark helmet. He expected you to treat him like all royals treated the service, like a lap dog, like an appendage, a simple accessory.

But you didn't. You looked at him like he hung the moon and stars, spoke to him as an equal, regarded him with wide eyes. You sat by the training yard when he'd practice swordfighting, a hand over your eyes to shield yourself from the sun, and you'd clap and cheer him on.

A week later he told you his real name, Simon. "But you can call me Si, love." He said it softly, walking you to the drawing room with a hand on the small of your back. His fingers tightened against the fabric of your dress when you repeated his name softly, to remember it better you'd said.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who started to get closer to you, to trust you, quicker than he usually did. He thought maybe it was because of the way you smiled at him when you caught him staring, or the way you laughed at his totally unfunny jokes like they were comedy gold.

At night, after he walked you to your quarters he'd go and stand under your window, because you always wanted to keep talking to him past your bedtime. You thought it was a shame it was dark outside when he had his helmet off, his voice was so deep, and his hands so big, his touch so warm— he had to be handsome.

He'd read to you, perched against a tree trunk, looking up at the balcony where he could make out the outline of your frame. He'd stay there with you until you started to yawn, and the sky turned orange, right before the birds sang. And then he'd walk back to his quarters and get as much sleep as he could before he had to be at your door again, picking you up after you got dressed, steering you to the dining room with a hand on the small of your back.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who, after weeks of dismissing your pleas, takes off his helmet in front of you. He doesn't like taking it off when he's at work, doesn't like being Simon when he's in the suit and armor, but for you he's already made an exception. He's surprised when you pull him down for a kiss behind a tree. You're taking a walk on the far side of the gardens, where the trees are tall and the foliage thick, and the sun doesn't get in your eyes.

After that day it became a common occurrence; you'd pull on his arm and steer him outside of the throne room. Tell your mother you were going for a walk, you'd be back before dinner, and you'd spend the entire afternoon tangled together under a weeping willow.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who told you he loved you one of those afternoons. Your head rested on his chest— armor discarded a while ago, his undershirt billowed in the wind— listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart and the rumbling anytime he spoke.

You had been telling him about a painting class you'd taken that day, his hums and caresses lulling you to sleep. It was the perfect occasion for him to say it, he couldn't hold it in any longer but he feared scaring you away if he said it out loud, the reality of your situation weighed heavy in his heart.

So he leaned his head down and kissed the top of your head, and with his lips pressed against your hair he said it.

"Love you s' much, sweetheart."

For a second he thought you really were asleep, and his words, his adoration for you, would stay a secret that only the trees that grew among you would know. But he felt you stir in his embrace, felt your hands snake around his neck, your lips find his jaw.

"Love you too, Simon."

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@cupidsworstcrime convinced me to write this 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Requests are open!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[gloomwitchwrites]

Thinking about…Knight!141 AU

Knight!Price is an accomplished knight. He is admired for his chivalry and prowess in battle. He is often the winner at jousting tournaments, and his charm makes many women swoon. But Price is a married man—happily that is. He has everything he could ever want, but there are those that seek what is solely Price's. His liege lord, the man Price has given his oath to, lusts after Price's wife. More and more, Price is called up and sent away for longer periods of time. Price knows why it is happening. His liege lord is attempting to steal her away. After a particularly long campaign, Price returns to his allocated lands only to find his wife gone and his lands in disarray. There is only one person who could have done this, and Price won't stop until he reclaims the woman he loves.

Knight!Soap is the second son of a noble lord, but he wishes he were the third. At least with being third, there are little to no expectations. By being second son, he’s the spare in case his older brother should perish, but is expected to live the life of a knight. To swear fealty and lead his father’s (and then brother’s) army in service of the King. Knighthood is chosen for him. It’s not the bloodshed and warfare that bothers him. It’s the purity of chivalry. His older and younger brother drink in excess and happily bed women that aren’t their wives while he has to uphold all the virtues of the Church. The rules and politeness in battle also bothers him. Running someone through isn’t honorable no matter how you paint it. At the moment, Soap has no way out, but he’s actively looking. Adventure is on the horizon, and he plans to seek it.

Knight!Gaz might be knighted but he’s not the most favored. He is pledged to a noble that appears wealthy but has little money. Gaz has had to earn his own living in whatever ways he can while also staying true to his sworn oath. Gaz came from the peasant class. He was not born into the role. It was through ambition that he moved up to a decent place of standing. While he receives respect, at times it feels more like reluctance from his peers. Yet his liege lord's daughter admires him. She is often the first to speak with him and to inquire about his well-being. It was simple and innocent at first. Now, it isn't. Now, she melts under his touch, and secretly pledges herself to him while tangled in the dark. Gaz is breaking his vow just by being with her, but he can't resist what his heart wants.

Knight!Ghost is respected but feared. While he holds to most of the code of chivalry, he doesn't when it comes to battle and bloodshed. In that, he is terrifying, and many fear facing him at all. Because of this, he is often called upon to take up tasks that many find distasteful. Ghost is happy to do them as it only increases his wealth and standing. When his liege lord calls him up for service, it is to help another noble. Their daughter has been taken while on the road. Held hostage by persons unknown. Ghost's task is to track her down, deliver her to her father, and bring the men responsible to justice. But when he finds her, Ghost is enamored with her. He knows he cannot break his vow to his liege lord, but this woman is alluring to him, and she is just as interested in him.

[secretlovezz]

Kisses of the Crown | Part One

Knight!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Princess!Reader

Summary: The introduction to the relationship between a Princess and her knight.

Warnings: none really

Wordcount: 1,206

Not proofread | Series Masterlist

"Teach me to wield a sword."

The tip of your index finger poked at the sword's pommel attached to his hip, fingering the meticulously engraved metal and darkened blood red Ruby gem that adorns it. Simon looked down at you, eyebrow raised in question, with amusement decorating his covered face. Your curiosity led you to inspect his hilt and scabbard further. His body unconsciously leans into your touch; though you do not touch him directly, he secretly yearns for you to do so, body overcoming his mind.

He only moves to stop your overzealous inspection when you advance to remove his blade from its covering. The knight's hand is placed gently over your own, calloused fingers working to pry your wandering hand from his side, thumb smoothing over your delicately soft skin.

Your eyes meet his dark ones, a hunting glare staring into his punctilious glower, “And why, Your Royal Highness,” the title sounds almost belittling and mockingly cheap coming from him, “Would I do that?”

Your jaw drops a little at his blatant defiance, It's not often you’re told no, especially from someone as seemingly arrogant as he. “I- Well, you-” An annoyed scoff leaves your lips, and your glare hardens in frustration. “I am your princess- you must do as I say.”

The guttural chuckle that manages to escape between the lips of the dark knight in front of you makes your face heat up with what feels a little like shame at your outburst; with a pout, you snatch your once brazen eyes from his and rip your hand from his queerly soothing touch to cross your arms in an almost childish way that only seems to fuel his entertainment in the matter. His large hand reaches for yours, wanting again to hold a part of you close in a moment of fleeting joy. However, your stubbornness makes you step back, blowing an exaggerated huff at him while still keeping your gaze in the opposite direction, falsely staring intently at the rows of flowers leading up to the garden.

Simon sucks his teeth at your display and instead reaches for your wrist this time, lean fingers gripping tight but not painfully so he can pull you closer to him. Your chest hits his a little roughly, and the velvety satin of your bodice hits metal. He leans in close, the cold metal of his well-worn helmet brushes against the shell of your ear -you imagine it's the scratch of his lips instead- and when you hear him take in a breath, it makes yours hitch. 

He doesn't move for a moment, enjoying your closeness and cherishing the scent of you.

“Ghost…?” Your call to him is almost silent, but you know he heard it because his hand squeezes lovingly at your wrist.

When he finally pulls back a bit to stare again into your eyes, his lips quirked up only for a second, and you can only tell because of the crinkle in the corners of his stupidly radiant eyes. “I think you forget, Princess, I take orders only from Her Majesty- and last I checked, you weren’t queen yet.”

What. An. Ass.

You scoff for what feels like the nth time that day and swipe your hand away from his grip once again. He watches with smug self-satisfaction as you begin to walk away from him, your royal colored dress flowing elegantly behind you, making your way back to the castle. His legs allow him to catch up promptly and soon he is silently back at your side as he always is.

----------♡

The following day, you woke up much earlier than usual because of a hard knock on your bedroom door. You don’t get up at the sound, though, deciding to ignore it adversely, not wanting to get up just yet after a dream filled restless night. It seems as though whoever stands on the other side of the door won’t have that; they knock again- more demanding than before- finally willing you to get up and unhurriedly make your way to the double doors.

Your hand rubs lazily at your eye while the other pulls at the handle of the heavy door. When your head peeks out the small crack in the door that you created you see no one, your already squinted eyes from having just woken up narrow more in confusion. A deep smoky voice breaks the shuddering morning silence addressing you, “Your Royal Highness.” You jump when Ghost emerges from the darkness of the hall, stepping closer to you.

“Goodness, Ghost!” Your hand is pressed to your chest in an attempt to calm your now racing heart and your other is braced against the door, “What is wrong with you? Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

He raises a hand to point to the door, “I knocked,” His eyes seemingly empty but eyebrows raised in amusement -as they usually are around you-  as he speaks. You glare at him trying to keep an anger filled facade but you know that your body physically lightens when your knight is near and so does he. You clear your throat and straighten your back, “What could you possibly need from me so early this morning, sir Ghost.” Your brow is raised expectantly and do your best to smile despite wanting to be in bed ignoring his sarcastic comments.

“Did you want your lessons on wielding a blade or not?” Simon's heart tightens with feelings he is unwilling to admit he has when your eyes gloss over with pure excitement and your faux smile is replaced with a real lively one. He watches as your fingers anxiously fidget with the light fabric of your chemise, looking away when he realises he can see the soft curves of your breast through the cotton.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t teach me? What made you change your mind overnight?” The knight can tell you’re hesitant at his hasty change of heart and he does not blame you and now he is hesitant to tell you the true reason- he isn’t willing to admit that he simply doesn’t know how to say no to you- he’s willing to break a rule or two if it means bringing you even the most menial amount of happiness.

Simon decides to deflect the question even though he knows that would annoy you further, “If I am to teach you to wield a weapon I will train you as I would train anyone else, understood, Princess.”

There's that name again.

“Fine, when do we start?”

“Now.”

Your brows fly up, “Wha- Now?”

The Dark Knight glances your way again, “Yes, now,” he looks you up and down languidly no longer resisting the urge to keep his gaze appropriate, “And I suggest you get changed into something more… proper, before meeting me at the training grounds.”

You take a moment to take in your attire and your cheeks redden at the realization that you are in nothing but your nightgown. When you go to shoot back an impudent response in embarrassment, Ghost is no longer there. The darkness of the hall no longer encompassed his large form and you sigh dramatically at his usual mysteriousness.

“What an ass.”

[milkteahood]

a ghost for a knight

medieval au, chapter 1

Simon Riley x fem!reader

Summary: your father, the king, makes his strongest knight keep watch over you due to you constantly disobeying the rules.

slow burn romance, eventual smut, age gap (reader is in her 20s while ghost is in his late 30s/ early 40s)

You thought he was merely a myth. Or at least, sort of. You heard the whispers, the other knights talking, but you never actually saw him.

Your father, the king, wasn’t allowing you to leave the premises of the castle, as you were the only heir. To you, he was just a story, a ghost. And to him, you were the same thing, for you had no idea your father was keeping you a secret. Only the most loyal to the family knew about you. So Simon had no idea why the king summoned him.

***

“That is a very good idea Your Highness” the advisor spoke.

“I just want her to be safe is all. She… she really inherited my temper” the king closed his eyes and rubbed one of his temples.

The crack from the secret passage was just enough for you to listen to the conversation. Someone was coming. Someone that was supposed to keep you safe. Safe from what? you thought to yourself. It’s not like I’m allowed to go anywhere.

As quiet as a mouse, you tiptoed away from the passageway and back into the labyrinth hidden into the castle. You knew every door, every crack. In case of a war, you could easily escape. Spending your free time hidden within the walls, listening to everyone’s conversations was something you found incredibly amusing. You knew which of the servants liked you and which couldn’t stand you. The only thing you found bothersome is not getting there in time to listen to your father’s whole conversation. You wanted to know who was coming. Is he planning to marry you off?

***

Exactly two weeks after the initial hearing of your father’s conversation is when the whispers started getting louder. “He is here” “The Ghost” “The Night” “The King’s most trusted” “The Myth” “The Legend”. And it was during one of your latin classes that the servant interrupted to announce that you were supposed by the king.

“Your Highness. The King is summoning you to the throne room” the servant spoke with a bow.

“What is it about?” you asked raising an eyebrow.

“I do not know princess”

“Very well”.

And with that, you stood up, a million thoughts running through your head.

Making your way down to the throne room, beautiful dress dragging behind, you felt a little anxious. After taking a few breaths, you let it known to the guards was alright to open the doors for you.

There stood your father, his advisor and a man. He was dressed like a knight and wore the kingdom’s crest, but you have never seem him before.

Your father’s voice broke your chain of thoughts.

“Y/N. Please step closer. There is something I need to tell you”

“Yes father?” you approached, giving him a small bow. He might’ve been your father, but he was also the king.

“I am aware of your little getaways” his tone was cold, but not angry.

You didn’t dare say more. You knew it was just a matter of time until he found out about your sneaking away from the castle into the forest.

You could feel the man’s eyes on you. He was taking you in.

“I have considered locking you away too” your father continued after a pause “but I know what I raised. You’d eventually escape a cellar too. So, there he is” he gestured towards the man “Sir Simon Riley. The most trustworthy knight and soldier I have. He is from now on in charge of looking after you and keeping you safe”.

***

“I cannot believe this” you finally spoke once you were far enough the hallway “I have been given a nanny”

“Seems like it, princess” Simon said.

“Don’t get smart with me”

He didn’t respond.

***

And so there he always was. When you studied, he was in the room. When you slept he was just outside. He only spoke if spoken to and always walked a couple steps behind you. Only when you’d request him to walk by your side did he ever do that.

There was no more sneaking away into the secret passages. That was something your father didn’t know you did, and you didn’t know just how much Simon reported back to him.

Life began to feel increasingly boring. You felt almost trapped, even more than you previously did. So you started to hatch a plan. How could you get away from Simon, even if it was just for a couple hours. The best solutions are always hidden in plain sight. Simon only ever left your side when you wanted to rest. Of course, he was just outside your door, but you had all the room to yourself. All the room and all the ways outside of it.

So that same evening, you told the knight who was worse than a shadow at this point, that you felt incredibly tired and would return to your chambers earlier.

“As you wish, princess” was all he said as he took his place in front of your door.

You changed out of your gown and into something more suited for what you were about to do.

A wave of adrenaline washed over you as you slipped your shoes off, as to not have your footsteps be heard, and very quietly opened your window. The sunset was magnificent, the breeze cool against your skin. Your room wasn’t very high up, making it very easy to decent off its balcony.

The grass was a little wet under your feet, and you took your sweet time to enjoy this little freedom. But, just as you were about to make a run for it through the palace’s garden, a strong hand wrapped itself around arm.

“Did you really think I was that stupid?” he almost hissed at you.

Your whole mood completely deflated in that moment.

“Well… I sure hoped you’d be” you replied.

His grip on you only tightened, enough to tell you he wasn’t in the mood for your games, but not hard enough to actually hurt.

“I just, really wanted to see the sunset”

“You can see it from your balcony” he replied coldly.

“But”

“No”

“I’m the princess!” you protested.

“And I answer to your father, not you, brat”.

He almost dragged you back inside, marking the first night Simon moved into your room. The king was right, Simon thought. You really were a flight risk. And when his head was on the line, he really wasn’t going to take any shit from a brat half his age.

do not repost my work anywhere. Reblogs are welcomed and appreciated.

pictures were taken from Pinterest. I take no credit for them

[ghostsgrl666]

knight!ghost x handmaiden!reader who can't keep their hands off of each other in corridors and secret staircases, who have to pass each other ten times a day as they both fulfill their castle duties but by the middle of the day ghost can't stand it anymore. He sees you hanging laundry just outside the servant's quarters and he sneaks up behind you, big hands engulfing your hips as his mouth swallows your gasp of surprise. knight!ghost who stares a hole through your tight, full bodice all night during the banquet as you pour drinks and pretend not to notice. knight!ghost who sneaks every night by candlelight through the dark underground corridors of the castle to get to your room, to climb into your tiny bed and press his face into the back of your neck. knight!ghost who has to ride into town the next day to help the king investigate the suspicious dissapearance of one of his lords, the same lord who had gotten a little too drunk and a little too handsy with you at the banquet.

[victoria-grimesss]

Knight!Ghost Drabble

masterlist

->Pairing: Knight!Ghost x Princess!Reader

->A/N: A little something to combat my endless writers block

Since the night of her attempted assassination, she requested a knight be present by her side at all times. A wise decision many agreed. She had the pick of the litter, many knights vying at the chance to prove their worth by protecting her. She chose him out of all of them, the Ghost. She demanded he be in every room she was in, still scared from the attempt on her life. Even within the dim lights of the bathing room, there he stood, right on the cusp of the room.

He would lavish in the way the candlelight danced on her skin. The steam of the water coming off her skin like she crawled right out of hell just to torment him, to fill his mind with carnal sin. But he stood still just on the other side of a sheer curtain, leaving little to the imagination. The steam warming his armor and in turn himself. Sweat dripping on his skin within the metal, chainmail growing uncomfortable, but he could bear it.

The multitude of candles strewn around the room illuminated her in a godly way, he was tempted to get down on his knees and worship her as she was. But he was sworn to protect, lest the King calls for his head. His eyes are veiled by the helmet, making him appear more as a statue than a man.

She yearns to tempt him, see how much he can endure before that knightly training is cracked and thrown out her tower window. To pull the armor piece by piece until he’s revealed to him as she is to him now would rival any romance poetry or gossip she's ever heard. A fantasy is what it is. 

His touch was original sin, tongue gracing the side of your neck like hellfire. That’s where you were going right? For indulging in awful terrible fantasies of a man who could never be betrothed to you. One so near yet far. He was unlike others. Standing guard day and night, still as a shadow unless he was walking behind you, eyes forever scanning for danger, for an opportunity to pay the ultimate price and lay down his life for yours, the most noble sacrifice.

Unlike the princes you were presented in front of at banquets, he always stood there unmoving, as you were shown possible future husbands. None of them you wanted, but it would be foolish to run to your father and mother and proclaim your infatuation for a knight. You would be mocked and ignored. Your fate was sealed, a marriage already brokered long before your birth as a way to form an alliance with another kingdom. You pray each night to be rid of these fevers of a man who you know nothing about. A man who you could never touch, but his dark eyes, you get drunk on them. They are more intoxicating than any ale that could ever be crafted. Yet no gold could buy you such a gift.

[ceilidho]

I am salivating at the mouth for a CRUMB of knight ghost carrying off his chosen bride who is just being the BIGGEST pain in the ass and doing literally everything she can to not let this hulking knight take her away from her home, it’s all I’ve been thinking about since that little snippet you shared earlier

Knight!Ghost and his temperamental, sour wife who kicks and screams and puts up a huge fuss when he picks her out from a lineup and refuses to go home with him. She's been trained not to make a fuss in front of company because she's supposed to be a gentle lady, but everyone can see the way she stomps around and hisses whispers at her parents and begs them not to let her leave - all in clear sight of her to-be husband, who stands there silently as if it's not happening.

Then at one point, Ghost's impatience just overtakes him and he stomps over to where she's currently complaining to her mother and tosses her over his shoulder. Just grunts "we're leaving" and turns around with her hanging off his shoulder, looking completely dumbfounded because no one's ever treated her this way in her life.

Maybe he makes her sit in front of him on his horse for the long trek home instead of in a pretty carriage because he knows she's not accustomed to riding for long periods of time :(( So she's whimpering and whining that her thighs hurt and it's not fair, and Ghost has to murmur into her ear in a low voice that she needs practice for how much she'll be riding him in the coming months.

[danibee33]

No one:

Me: ok, but hear me out- knight!ghost and his queen

[amazeingartist]

the kings guard having a lil helmet kiss for morale

(I drew this so late last that I was literally forgetting how to art and I gotta stop doing that)

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok but what if

What if Ghost was a knight (again) and then there's a spoiled, presumptuous lady who's bored (again)

She's the kind of princess who was dearly loved because she was a girl. No one knows why, because everyone knows girls are a liability. But she has been treasured and sheltered all her life, she always got everything she wanted, and now she's stupid enough to fall for Simon who has lived a life full of war and torment and who is not the kind of stray dog you would want to feed.

Our poor lady doesn't know she's playing with fire when she's toying with her father's (Price?) most loyal soldier: a brooding, tall, broad man who got his knighthood after this campaign or that. This outlander, Simon, catches her attention because he rarely speaks and never smiles, but makes her smallclothes wet because he has an ill look about him: a broken nose and a thin lipped, downturned mouth. This sir is looking everyone from under his brow like they're mere children in his eyes. The only time she's heard him speak is when he's barking orders in the courtyard.

She teases and teases and teases him: flirting every chance she can get, giving him soft brushes that barely remain within the bounds of propriety. She bestows heated stares that linger a little too long, she licks and parts her lips when they walk past each other in the cold, dimly lit corridors of the castle. He never returns any of her flirts.

Except the stares.

She can feel his eyes on her even when she's not looking. That coal-like stare is fixed on her wherever she goes: it's hot and cold at the same time, like embers that are kindling under long-forgotten ashes.

He's interested… But only in a way that a hungry, beaten, suspicious dog is interested when it's staring at a meaty bone, trying to decode if it's a treat or a trap.

He finally has enough one day when she dares to smile at him: softly, knowingly, like a whore in a tavern.

The gauntlet closes around her neck like an iron collar. She can smell the horses and the sweat and the dirty leather as the man she has dreamed of seizes her and pushes her back against a wall.

"Is this what you want? Hm?"

She finally hears him speak: dark, gravelly, and borderline exhausted from all the games she plays. Were he to hold her a little more tightly, she would call it a choke, a soft and slow strangling. The intensity is enough to make her heart flutter and her stare escape somewhere to the grey stone wall. There's no way she can meet that heated stare, now filled with flames and lust.

The knight she used to fantasize about is about to snap. The stoic, cold man is about to lose control at any given moment, and she's about to lose her maidenhood along with that shattered self-control.

He presses his whole body against her: leather and steel and hardened muscle, all that rough, well fed, thick flesh forged in countless battles is pressed against her frame like she is nothing but a flower. Her woolen dress is a poor shield against all the hard ridges of his armour, the pommel of his sword digs into her side painfully, but she pays it no mind. There's something equally as hard and demanding pressed against the apex between her legs. She's forced to rise to her toes from the way he drives his swollen cock up her cunt, and even if there's layers and layers of clothing between them, she can feel the heat of him.

"'S not a good idea to tease a starved dog," he snarls while watching her lose her confidence. All of it, because it was only ever a charade. A silly daydream of a silly young woman, just an attempt to distract herself, a pastime game that happened to turn into a dangerous obsession.

And he growls. He actually growls like a hound when she's suddenly so weak she can't even provide him with an answer. It's a dark rumble that meets her chest, a hot, slow breath that passes across her frightened skin. She feels like floating: his cock raises her from the ground as he tries to fuck into her through their clothes. The ironclad hand has never even seen mercy as it turns her head to the side for him to have a good sniff of her neck and hair.

"Sir," her lips tremble; her whole jaw is making it clear that she's about to cry soon. There's not enough stones on the wall for her to count if he decides to take her here. "Simon…? Please, sir. I'm a virgin…"

[egg-but-with-style]

Okay..what if..ghost was a knight. hm?????????

He'd been told he was going to become a knight since birth, serving the country as a whole, then if he was good enough, the nobility. When his training begun, he hated the idea of being the knight of any old noble that thought people poorer then them were the dirt beneath their boot.

He eventually became hardened by years of training and fighting, not to mention the occasional shipping out to a random village where he had killed more then a few men.

Then one day it was decided that the princess needed a personal knight, for a young lady needed to be well protected. At first he scoffed at the idea. A princess? One that stayed in castle walls like a caged bird? Why did she need protection?

When the day he was supposed to meet you came around, he quickly learned it wasn't for your safety per say, more so to curb your stubbornness. He couldn't deny the portraits of you in the hall with your family made his checks slightly flush. A beautiful round face and plump body. The redness wore off once he found out that, you had refused to come to the meeting to be assigned your guard, which he chocked up to the pretty princess not wanting to talk with a common like himself.

Until as he was getting a tour of the ground for security purposes, he saw a woman gardening. The woman was wearing a much nicer dress then he expected for a gardener. The woman was also quite a bit taller, chubbier, stronger. That's one thing he did like about noble women, their plump forms, but it was unusual for a worker. Maybe she was just a very good gardener. The woman quickly took notice of him and with a hop in her step, went up to greet him. She looked strangely...familiar?

"You're the new knight, yes?" He looked a little surprised, not expecting this person to be so talkative, but he was polite. "Yes..I am. Would you have any idea where the princess might be?" You giggled, taking off your sunhat and wiping your forehead with your sleeve. "You're looking at her."

He was stunned, he hadn't been paying too much attention to you before, but now that he was, the portraits on the walls of the castle matched you perfectly, yet they couldn't capture your beautiful round cheeks and a gorgeous smile as well as the real thing. He then snapped out of his thoughts and kneeled before you. Hearing you scoff at his actions. "You know you don't need to do that, right? Your little tour guide isn't even here anymore, not that he would've shown you around better then I can."

Ghost looked up and around. It's true, he was alone, with you he supposed. He then looked to your face, it being the only shade on his eyes from the blinding sun, making you look like you had a halo around your head. An angel. That's what you looked like.

"Cmon, get up." You said, as you stretched out your hand to help him up. He looked surprised, but grateful, his job was hard on his knees. Taking your hand once he was sure no one else was around, he wasn't sure if you'd be strong enough to help all that much, but you pulled him up with ease. "Now what's your name, oh noble knight?" The words falling from your lips, with a slight sarcasm imbedded. But not filled with ill will. "Ghost, my lady" your smirk fell slightly, and you sighed. You knew it couldn't be helped, honorifics were basically beat into every guard and maid.

"That's an odd name. I don't believe you're a spector."

You giggled, and he became surprised the longer you talked, so sasy, so informal. Felt more like talking to a fellow guard then the to be leader of the country. He stammered again, being put off guard (hahaha, get it?) "It's.. it's a given name by the knights guild."

You hummed in acknowledgement. You had heard of some guards only ever using their given names, but you had never seen it with your own eyes.

"Interesting. Well, I suppose you need a new tour guide, don't you?" He thought about it for a moment, perhaps, from a tactical standpoint, a person who lives in the castle, especially someone as rambunctious as you, would probably know more then the average persons about the castle. So for safety reasons, or maybe it was just him justifying a reason to get to know you better, he agreed.

"I suppose I do." You were still glistening with sweat from the heat of the sun, and the exertion of pulling weeds in a rather tight corset. Skin being smeared with splotches of dirt. He was feeling bold, and asked a question that any other noble would've had slapped him for. "You're quite the trouble maker, aren't you, my lady?" You only giggled

"You bet your shiny ass I am. Now cmon, there's like 20 different places that old fart hadn't show you yet." He only had moments to question your vulgar choice of words, then you were off, walking, almost jogging down the cobble path, with his heart in hand. So he could only follow.

Authors note: you know how I said I had ideas about the 141? Ghost consumed those thoughts. Eat up, babes. Again I don't know who made the knight au for ghost? If anyone knows, please tell me so I can tag them for credit. Cause this idea is so yummy. Thank you for reading, bye bye!!!!

[cinnamongrl2006]

♱ Knight!Simon Riley x Princess!Reader (part 2) ♱ part one

a/n: I'm so, so happy you guys liked part one! I tried my best to do it justice! Thank you all for the kind messages :) Also, should I do knight Jason Todd?? or, or knight John Price? I feel like I should mention I have not played modern warfare in sooo long, like since my ps3 broke (two-ish years ago!!). Ugh I'm so in love with knight Simon Riley!!

contents: a ton of fluff, lil bit of angst (I refuse to make my characters suffer too much, they deserve the world!!), allusion to sex but nothing specific or graphic.

For a couple months your illicit affairs with Simon became more frequent, your love for each other already confessed, feelings running wild like horses.

You'd gotten used to his touch, his fingertips on your cheeks, arms, thighs; his calloused hands so gentle with your soft skin, his touch almost reverent. His lips kissing every freckle and mark on your skin, slowly, as if to memorize them.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley whose heart broke the moment you broke the news to him: you'd been engaged to a prince from a foreign land, he'd come to the castle soon, live with you before the wedding eventually happened. You stood in the yard, under the weeping willow, in your place, when you told him. His mask was off, guard down, rough hands under the fabric of your dress. Your eyebrows knit with worry, tears brimming your eyes as you spoke.

You told him how you loved him and no other, his jaw tight, gaze cold with jealousy, envy of the lucky prince who would not know how to treat you right.

"I promise, Si. I'd marry you in a heartbeat, you know that!" You sobbed into his shirt, tears staining the fabric.

"I know, sweetheart, but we can't." You could hear the pain in his voice.

It had taken him so long to feel such a connection with anyone, and now that he'd found the one he couldn't keep her.

Your daily rendezvous became far more passionate and longer, you'd miss dinner, tell your mother Ghost took you riding— not entirely a lie— that was why your hair was tousled, skirt and tights askew and cheeks flushed red. Your mother just smiled and waved you away, clueless and careless.

You were aware that living in a castle, being next in line to rule, not having to lift a finger ever sounded like a good thing, but God, how you loathed the court. You'd confided in Simon once, told him that you felt out of place, like the black sheep. That you'd love to have an actual family, one that eats meals together, with people that talk to each other, love each other. He dreamt of providing that for you.

The harshness of your situation weighed heavy on Simon's shoulders, you could see it in the way his eyes barely held your gaze anymore, moving to look at the trees, a painting on a wall, the ground. You could feel it in the way he touched you, like he knew he had to let you go, but couldn't: his fingers holding onto your flesh roughly.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who was surprised (pleasantly so) when a couple weeks later you told him you'd run away with him.

"I've got it all planned out, horses food, an alibi...I swear, we can do it. We have to, before the prince gets here and I get no chance to."

"Honey—" he breathed.

"I mean it, I told the stable boy and a couple of the guards. I had to bribe them, something about sworn loyalty for my father— anyway, we can leave tonight, it's all ready."

Simon would walk through fire just to see your eyes again, he'd jump off a cliff if it meant he'd see you smile; so that night he meets you by the stables, a cloth bag with some of his belongings in it—clothes, weapons, a wad of cash— slung over his shoulder.

You stand by your horse, your dress tied up above your knees for easy mobility, hair down. There's a fire in your eyes he doesn't think he's ever seen before, and it makes the blood in his body rush south, heat pool in his stomach. Your own bag is slung over your shoulder, your foot taps against the floor with urgency.

"Ready?" You mutter, keeping your volume low.

He walked over to you, nodded curtly before he wrapped his arms around you.

"If we do this, there's no turning back." You warned him.

"I've got nothing here, no family, no past. You should be the one thinking about what they're loosing, my love."

"I can't do that. We have to go."

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who feels a sense of pride at how much you trust him, at how you left it all behind— the crown, the court, the comfort, your family, although you'd said time and time again you'd leave them if you could.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who gets you to a cabin in the woods that belonged to a friend of his, a lumberjack, who no longer used it. He laid you down on the bed, pushed the covers over your body and kissed your forehead before he unpacked your bags and lit a fire on the fireplace. Once he saw fit, he laid down beside you, his arms around your body, his lips pressed to your skin.

He knew the worries would come in the morning, the fear of getting caught, the shame, the tears; and then the relief, that of finally being able to be together and love loudly.

────୨ৎ────

@foxintheferns this is for u my dear!!! and for the anons that asked me to please write a part two lol

Requests are open!!

[ghostsforghosts]

Take My Hand

I will not lie, this came to me because of the song "To Be a Princess" from Barbie as The Princess and Pauper. I know the song is very gendered, but Reader is gender neutral and the song really has no bearing on this oneshot except to bring the vibes. Anyways, I'll stop rambling now. Summary: You're a new ruler of the kingdom and you have little to no skills in dancing. Still, you have a ball to host soon, which involves knowing how to waltz. Luckily, Knight!Ghost knows how to waltz. Word Count: 1, 156

"Will I really be expected to dance with a noble and especially dance a waltz?" you ask, frowning as you stand in the ballroom.

You didn't understand it, especially since that would mean a noble had the chance to suck up to you and try to have more power than they had when the old ruler was ruling the kingdom. You didn't enjoy the thought of so many nobles trying to gain favor by telling you pretty nothings. You didn't enjoy being around people period, but such was your life when you got crowned ruler.

Sir Riley, or Ghost as you've come to know of his moniker, took off his armor so he could move fluidly enough to teach you the dance. He was left in only his undershirt and the pants he had worn under the armor, his muscles bulging out from the clothes that hid them. Without his helmet on, you could see his scarred face that looked kinder than you thought it would.

"Yes, Your Majesty, you will be expected to dance." His words were clipped, but considering he was kind enough to teach you how to waltz in the first place, you were starting to think that was just the way he was. He walked towards the middle of the ballroom, gesturing for you to follow him. "Don't worry, I might be a knight, but I have danced waltzes before."

You raised an eyebrow at the implication that he had danced multiple waltzes and you followed him to the middle of the ballroom. "Popular among the people, are you?" Your tone was teasing, trying to hide the nerves you felt at dancing in front of Sir Riley.

Sir Riley surprised you by chuckling in reply. "The people like knights, we're like entertainment to them. They're intrigued by us, nothing more, nothing less. All of my dances are just that: dances," he said.

Your conversation was dropped when he held out his hands, waiting for you to give your own. You reached out hesitantly, letting your gloved hands rest in his bare, scarred ones. The warmth of his hands seeped into your skin, warming you in turn.

Touching him was nice, to say the least. Your heart was beating way too fast for your liking and you loudly gulped when your hands touched.

No, nope. You couldn't let yourself go down this path, he was your knight for heaven's sake. It wouldn't be proper to... to think of him holding you and you holding him back.

Thankfully, your thoughts were interrupted by Sir Riley instructing you to just let the music guide you.

"I'll lead first, then once you get the hang of following someone's lead, we'll teach you how to lead the dance. Is that alright with you, Your Majesty?" he asked, his brown eyes boring into yours with such intensity that you'd think he could see into your soul. He was giving you such devoted attention and it stirred butterflies in your stomach.

"Yes, yes. That's alright," you answered, trying not to seem so distracted. Your mouth was dry and you were cursing your body and heart for acting like this.

With your consent to start, Sir Riley nodded to the musicians to start playing, reminding you that you two weren't the only ones there. As the music started, he took a step forward, forcing you to take a harsh step backwards.

Even with him counting the steps and going as slow as he could while dancing, you still were stumbling over your feet and his. It was embarrassing, but he was being patient with you.

"One, two, thr—" He paused when you stumbled yet again and he quickly steadied you before you could fall. "It's alright, Your Majesty. This will take time. Let us take it from the top when you've caught your breath."

The music started over again when you were ready and you were slowly starting to get better. Your mood was starting to get lighter as your stumbles were becoming less.

You were doing it, you were dancing!

Until you stepped back too harshly and your ankle gave you beneath you, causing you to stumble. Since it was so sudden, you just went backwards with Sir Riley unable to steady you before you went backwards.

With a lunge forward, he barely managed to grab onto your waist and stop you from hitting the floor completely. Now with his arms wrapped around you, he pulled you up but misjudged the close proximity between you two.

You were upright, but your lips were close to touching, your chests against each other's and your legs tangled together in a way where it was a miracle you two were still standing. Your breath hit his lips and you swore you saw his pupils dilating, but that was probably from the surprise.

The embarrassment from the situation didn't make you any less frustrated about your mishap. The frustration seeped into your psyche, your eyebrows furrowing in disapproval of yourself.

It was going so well, until you messed it up.

Sir Riley somehow knew you were scolding yourself and he masterfully pulled away without making either of you stumble when he untangled his legs from yours. He dropped his arms from around your waist to lift one hand and gently gripped your chin, forcing you to stare into your eyes.

"Your Majesty, it's alright," he said, his voice firm but not angry at you. It was like he was talking to your thoughts and scolding them for scolding yourself. "I told you this would take time and it's alright to make mistakes. No one gets it on their first try. Not even dashing rulers."

His words made you feel better, enough for you to give him a small smile. "You think I'm dashing?" you asked, your mood becoming lighter again.

Sir Riley took your lighter mood as an opportunity to take your hands in his again and to get you both back in the starting stance for the dance. "Since you seem better, we shall start again," he answered, sounding no-nonsense-like, but you could see the twinkle in his eyes.

With that, you two started dancing again. It took a while, a long while, but you eventually got better than before. Your moves were more or less smooth, with no tripping over your feet. You even managed to complete the entire dance without fail.

Sir Riley looked very pleased with you, giving you a round of applause when the music ended, allowing you to playfully bow. You couldn't see it, but his look was a soft one, like he would be treasuring this memory forever. And he would be treasuring this forever and many more memories of you.

You were slowly becoming more precious to him than a ruler should be to a knight. But he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Good, Your Majesty. Now, shall we teach you how to lead?"

Flower banner made by @/dollywons and reblog & mdni dividers made by @/cafekitsune

Requests are open!

[xo-codbby]

https://www.tumblr.com/xo-codbby/764078586962624512/not-sure-if-you-write-this-sort-of-thing-but-how?source=share

noo knight!ghost who doesn’t end up getting his happy ever after is so sad because he watched his lady marry to another 🥲 the pain of being so close but so far :(

continued

it would be so sad, so painfully bittersweet :")

knight ghost watching from afar, a black mask donned over his face disguised in the shadows. his heart clenching tightly in his chest, hands tightened over the hilt of the sword attached to his hip watching you take the hand of another. his heart twisting painfully in his chest because it should've been him, it should've been always been him

all those letters he had written when he wasn't brave enough to admit his feelings out loud, all of those whispered promises in vain when he watched you take another man that wasn't him

knight ghost battling his emotions because you're happy or at least you look it. watching a smile light up your face, your sweet lips whispering something to the side as the ceremony concludes and the cheer from the others. this was a true vision of beauty, this was the sight he ached to see every day while he away fighting battles in your name. killing those who dared to hurt you, torturing those who wanted to get their scarred hands on you. and yet now, the sight of you finally smiling and laughing brought him the most pain he could never be able to describe

it was a sinking feeling to know he had been cast aside, bruised deep under memories you wanted to suppress. while could blame you, he was a knight. his responsibilities were complete, his debt was paid

and he had a long line of potentials, he was quite the name and the face around town. the men envied him, the women adored him but none of them could hold a candle to the fire you burned in his heart, the embers of your love warming him up even on the most hardest days.

how could he look at another woman the way he did you? you gave him the one thing he never dared to have, never dared himself to revel in, hope

he heard the faint chatter of the celebration, your ring glimmering under the lights as you looked to your new beau. the way your eyes sparkle, under the lights or from the love, he's not sure. but it takes a piece of his heart, shattering it completely regardless

and still despite it all, knight ghost looking at you, the faintest of smiles on his lips at your joy. because even though you're breaking his heart, a flicker of tenderness and love still flicker through his veins for you. the pain flooding his heart knowing he would never be able to overcome this loss. he always bounced back from the physical pain, the battles were easier to deal with. he took a step back, a soft breath leaving his lips as the winds blow gently across the trees and leaves, caressing the gentle silks of your dress

because this, watching his lover marry another, the vision would simply haunt him for all his days

[ryololart]

Kingdom Come

Simon x OC | Medieval!AU | Content Warning: Violence, Religious Imagery, Arranged Marriages| playlist|

Philosophers claim that the ability to feel and decipher our complex emotions is what makes us human. Would you be something better or worse than a human if you could control those emotions? And what if not just your own?

The room itself was left to chaos; the crumbling of organization, the rumbling of walls, death of coherent thought. It was all coming apart. She had to do something, grab the ropes and pull it all together, even with bleeding, scarred, screaming hands. The shouting, the yelling, the throwing of hands up to the sky as if for an answer, it was getting them nowhere. These men and their pride, not able to let anyone offer something maybe greater than them. Not even for the betterment of their people, not for the greater good. Each of them were sworn in on a promise that they would protect this nation with their last breaths. However, they wake up with fire and go to sleep with ash. They would never be able to fulfill the duty on which they existed in this room, not with their legacy on the line. As if ink on the paper is more important than the bodies on the street. The bodies with this nation’s name imprinted on their now dull armor. None of these men knew the metallic taste of blood after getting kicked in the teeth, having already been down. Their feet had sat on stools and grapes dropped into their mouths. Yet she understood the battered knees, scarred lips, and hands always needing more, more than she could find to give. Her worst memories were her greatest strengths in a room full of war pigs. 

Evangeline sat in her designated seat at the left hand of the King. Her head resting on her fingertips, trying to decipher what to side with. It felt like holding a dustpan that she had been shaking for gold. No matter how much she dug up and shook out, she found nothing of worth. At the end of the day the blood dripping from their mouths would accumulate in her hands in the form of a shake with the King. It was her job to offer what was best for this country as her ruler only listened to her tongue. The reason for this most suspected was he was sleeping with his most trusted advisor, the only one he drifted his eyes to in the war room for true guidance. Another offer was he had slept with her mother, the advisor before her, and after her death he had a debt to settle. Despite this, Evangeline worked too hard to be bothered by the stares. The endless questions and whispers in the dark she learned to just shed like old skin. Just as her mother had. Instead her eyes of ivy stare back with a smile because no matter what the reason, she was victorious, with every wretched word. 

Across from her the General sat at the King’s right hand. He sat straight up with his arms crossed and hands tight on his biceps. He was just as annoyed with the squabbling idiots, like seagulls fighting over a stale piece of bread. He was odd, to say the least, and that wasn’t just her opinion. Most people who had ever been in his presence found themselves to be uneasy. He was called Ghost for a reason. Was big; all height and muscle. His armor was caked in dust and ash, coated in blood he hadn’t washed off, his leader belt and straps stained with the deep crimson. Not to mention that sword of his. A two handed longsword he swung with just one. Those winter-grey eyes of his met hers and it was like a lick of familiarity ran up her back. Despite the size he was silent, rarely speaking, rarely heard, and rarely spotted. Even on the battlefield if you died by his hand you wouldn’t have any idea, and if you did, you died in terror. As if spooked by a ghost. 

The problem at hand was the war with the next door kingdom was not coming close to an end. It was just causing more death, more violence, and huge losses in the banks. It needed to end quickly. However, the terms for surrender were too damning. They wanted land, money, and women and children. That was not something the Kingdom of Manchester would give up lightly. So the war continued and in the past year it has been the worst it has ever been. The death toll in the thousands, the economy in the drain, and our exports depleted to the point they were losing important trade deals. It was the war table’s decision on how to end this war and the current solutions were abhorrent.  One duke said to just pay the price and focus on recuperating and get our goods back, everyone disliked that. Another lord offered to double the land and whatever women and children lived there and kept the money, he almost got sent out of the room for that. A major in the army said to take hostages or try a trojan horse, leaning on the history of battle to give us the upper hand. Unfortunately the suggestion came too late and they couldn’t even afford another battle or an undercover mission of the scale. Someone threw their hands up and declared they were out of ideas and the room quieted in agreement. 

“What does Liverpool actually want from us?” Evangeline stood up from her chair, her hands braced on the table. Her mind was swirling, thinking of all the history books she had read on the days of Greece and Rome. A few in particular she couldn’t get out of her mind. It would hurt the ego of the kingdom, break the King and Queen’s heart, and send a friend into harm's way. However it would protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. This was politics. Wars aren’t always finished on the battlefield, they end behind closed doors. A princess’s job is to protect her kingdom in the only way she can, with her dowry and her ring finger. “They want our resources, our military, our connections, our money. So we make them an offer they can’t refuse. We play on their pride and their weakness.” 

The entire room was focused on her now, even the Ghost’s eyes. Evangeline stood, shoulder back, head high, fingers gripping the table, and her gaze straight forward. Her mouth felt dry but not in fear, but in hesitation. The princess, Penelope, was a sweet soul. They grew up as acquaintances, the King’s daughter and his advisor's daughter, a typical match. Both of them are next to each other at parties, sneaking away to run around the castle during meetings, and getting into endless amounts of trouble tampering with the library. Penelope was not weak. She had a good wit and a curiosity about the world that rivaled Evangeline’s own. However, she was innocent in all this, the only nature of her responsibility being her birth. Her mind never wandered into blood or war, she instead focused her research on agriculture and studies of botany. She found that whoever controls the food, controls the people, so she put her skills in trying to aid the diminishing farm population. Especially when Liverpool sat right on the shore of the closest port, cutting off trade and imports of food and goods. Evangeline felt as if she was betraying a friend, a fellow intellectual, someone who had a greater purpose than this. She was like her mother, one that was so important to this kingdom and its stability. Unfortunately she was the only daughter, the only one who could bring this war to its end. In a white dress and a ring of gold, she will end in this suffering. 

“Marry the Princess, Penelope, to their oldest son, Prince Kyle.” The words left her lips with great caution, knowing the King’s face would turn to stone. King John loved his queen. Addison was a fair and beautiful woman, she brought peace and a sense of collection to their kingdom with her wisdom and gentleness. She was the foil to his character, the opposite of his torment and pain. Despite this, and his love for her, his pride and joy was his daughter. Penelope was everything to him. The day she was born his world was changed forever, it wasn’t just ruling a Kingdom, it was building something for his family to take over once he was gone. He worked so hard to set her up for success, to be a good and beloved ruler. Taking her away from him would slaughter his heart in one slice. However this was the consequences of war and what it took to end something that was ruining their stability as a kingdom. The sacrifice was one that must be paid.

The room was silent, considering and turning her statement over like throwing stones, checking if it was sound enough to skip across the river. Then the nods followed and the humming of agreement. The king’s face showed nothing on it, not a crease of movement or a flicker of anger. Just, dissociating, pretending that this wasn’t real, that he didn’t have to marry off the one thing that gave him meaning. The man across the table raised an eyebrow at her, trying to find a motive behind her eyes, perhaps something deeper and more conceited than at first examined, but dropped his shoulders accepting his defeat. The chatter in the room started to rise, agreements, proposals, offerings. The bugs spit and spat out their senseless opinions that had no weight. The advisor had spoken and this meeting was over. Everyone knew it. Meetings typically only lasted until she opened her mouth because once her word was spoken the King would find his plan and call the time to an end. She tucked her skirt beneath her and sat once more, her gloved hands lacing together in front of her, waiting to be spoken to. She swallowed a lump so great she thought it would burst in a show of gore from her throat. 

“This is your proposal Thomas?” The King’s gruff and tired voice asked not in aggression, but in exhaustion. This war had been long and hard on him. 

“Yes your Grace,” She said with confidence. Unlike him, she wasn’t allowed to be tired. Or at least not show it. Her job was to be confident, her job was to be sure, her job was to be everything he couldn’t be. “Based on your current circumstances, this is your best option.” 

“Wilson, draft the marriage document and the requirements. Davis reached out to the ambassador of Liverpool, telling him this is their last chance. Ghost goes to the frontlines and sends back a status update. Thomas,” He looked towards her. His crows feet and sagging eyelids showing her age. His voice moved from his bitterness to poison “Go tell my daughter the fate you doomed her to.” 

“As you wish,” Each member nodded except for Evangeline. She looked away, clenching her teeth, her jaw aching. She wanted to scream and yell at him that had he done something sooner this wouldn’t have been what they resorted to. It was his decision to put the end off this long. However, she bit her tongue and took a deep breath. She calmed her thoughts, imagining that familiar river in her mind, each thought like a leaf floating away from her, unable for her to dwell on. The sinking feelings of tranquil filling her limbs and chest. She reached out a hand encased in the silk she adorned and touched his thick, rough, calloused fingers. “As you wish.” 

Immediately, his face moved from that resentment to match hers, a face of content and understanding. She offered him a smile then rose from her seat. 

“Dismissed.”

Evangeline’s hands were folded in her lap. She pulled the fingers of her gloves sliding them back and forth, touching each tip. Something in her was restless, something in her wanted to run. This felt wrong. Her stomach sat hollow in her stomach pulling her weight down in her pew. Before her the sight was anything but cheerful as the event should entail. A wedding. A gathering of two people coming together for life. Something saying my love isn’t fickle it is transcendent. 

However, this was not that. No. It was chains on a wrist for something greater than thyself. What is a greater purpose than love? The poets sing and speak of the power of this force. The wonderful feeling of butterflies fluttering in the walls of your body, making you feel light and silly. Making you feel alive. Apparently the feeling of waking with sun on your skin and a hand on your waist tasted better than blood on your teeth. Love was what made us uniquely human. 

But on the contrary is there a greater purpose than self-preservation? Then further, preservation of an entire country home to thousands of people or the preservation of one girl. There will always be people with open hands, always those who need more. Who is responsible for them? 

Why does birth determine how we die? Why does our rank in the social order decide our fate? Especially when that is something we often cannot control. Isn’t the point of life to make whatever this is our own? 

Screw ‘to be or not be’, to live or die is the same thing. 

The real question is to live or survive. Survival is the utmost important thing to the human mind. We are hardwired to make it out alive, despite all the odds. We don’t choose what we are born into or the things we start off with, we can only make the most of it. Survive it. Why does that cost us everything we are? Why does this lead to us returning to that primal part of yourself. The animal brain. Do we as humans want to be just animals in clothes forever? Or something more? Does love enable life and remove the survival element? Or does it inspire it? To survive for something greater than just your own life?

Penelope will never know. Penelope will never be able to find this answer unless she falls in love with this tyrant of a man. It is not likely. Prince Kyle was known to be a golden prince. One that puts his duty above all of us. One that would rather fall on his sword than recognize the own faults of his kingdom. What did that mean to this marriage? To this devotion of ill-fitted love. 

Penelope is a romantic at heart. Growing up Evangeline found her with those same books, the poets wrote of their own dreams of this force. The best-case scenario. The ones who were sweeped up off the feet and so deeply cared for. Not ones with an arranged marriage. For that was not the fate of a lover girl. 

When she told the girl she didn’t say very much. Gods, she wished Penelope had yelled. Wish she had done more than just nodded and said ‘thank you.’ Why thank her? Thank her for dooming her into a loveless political marriage. She wanted bared teeth, bloody nails, ripped-out hair, broken bones. She deserved so much more than that. 

For the royals, Penople was not just nice, she was kind. Often people connect the two but they are not synonymous. Nice is being polite to maintain harmony. Kind is genuine compassion, kind is consideration despite oneself, kind is an act of selflessness. Penelope was one of the kindest women she had ever met in her years as advisor. And Evangeline was the one who had chosen this fate for this beautiful girl. The beautiful girl who wore the crown with the bloody diamonds, the crown that was becoming so heavy her shoulders were starting to slouch in, the crown that put a ring covered in gore on her finger.

When Evangeline met Penelope she wanted to hate her. Hate her perfect white skin, big welcoming honey brown eyes, perfect rosy lips, and the most luscious silky brown hair. She wanted to hate the way that she walked with her posture so aligned, she wanted to hate the way her hands were soft as a baby’s cheeks and her nails were perfectly painted, she wanted to hate the way her voice was like a bird song. She wanted to hate the privilege she was born into. But who could hate a woman filled with such love for her people and such love for her life. She deemed her one of her only friends. One of the only people Evangeline trusts. Now she sits at this funeral, Penelope’s wedding. The death of a friend. A death Evan choice for her.

When she chose her dress this morning she chose one of meaning. It was a deep navy color, almost black. A sign of mourning, a sign of sorrow, a sign of grief. The color screams ‘I don’t accept this, I do not condone.’ Her head bowed to her knees as she played with her gloves. This was not a bow of defeat. A bow of respect for a girl she loved.

Next to the left hand man sits the right hand man. Ghost sat next to her in his armor, a display of power in a space full of enemies. They often ended up like this, the king’s voice and the king’s sword next to each other. Both displaying their power openly in front of the masses to show who really orchestrated all of this. Despite this they never spoke much. There was nothing to discuss. Evangeline often spoke for both of them and he never opened his mouth to complain. He didn’t open his mouth much of all, not that you could notice with his helmet covering his face. 

It sat in his lap today, the heavy chunk of metal she associated him with. For once, the lines of his face were on display in a sign of loyalty to the kingdom. His dirty blonde, nearly brown hair was cropped close to his scalp. His jaw had a slight stubble that matched the dirt that hadn’t been washed away in days. She wondered who gave him those eyes, so stormy in their appearance. Slate grey, unwavering, stonelike. Scars littered the skin, one through his eyebrow, eye, and cheek. Met with one over his crooked nose. Then two more at the corners of his mouth. How he got them he never disclosed. How could he when he never spoke? She didn’t care enough to inquire. His sunken eye sockets were decorated with firm everybows above giving this impression he was always angry, or at least displeased. His face was a rare sight but Evangeline welcomed it. It may be the one honest thing in that war room. 

He was the one who called them war pigs. The title for which she referred to since the utterance. It was not something spoken to her, instead under his breath. She hadn’t heard his voice so angry like that before. On the rare occasion he did speak his voice was monotone, quick to the point, it did not dilly dally around. No. He also never made comments or unprompted conversation. Small talk was not the corner of the Ghost. This came out like a snarl, the flick up of his lips and teeth bared. ‘War pigs.’ The disgust evident. That was the day she knew that she may not be able to trust him, but she could respect him. For he understood her, understood her resentment. 

The king stood by his daughter with a brave face watching his little girl be given away to a criminal. Both royal families of Manchester and Liverpool stood across from each other as their children held hands. The priest speaking in long verberated sentences Evangeline listened very close to. If she held the sword to this girl's death she would bear it in full witness, shoulders back, and eyes focused. With that she sat up tall and kept her eyes on that beautiful woman ahead of her. So strong and selfless. Something Evangeline knew she wasn’t. 

Vows were exchanged, rings adorned, and a silent kiss  sealing their fates. Evangline let out a breath unbeknownst to her, one full of anguish and exhaustion. Eyes from her right ghosted upon her, watching the outline of her lips and how they were bitten into. She knew she had a bad habit, the bloody cheeks, bitten lips, picked-to-flesh skin around her nails. It was self mutilation neither a worthwhile punishment. She felt torn just like her flesh. Torn between duties; to kingdom or to love. She never knew true love herself but she knew she was capable. She knew Peneople was at least. She picked duty to her kingdom, it was the right thing to do. That thought never wavered. So she had to decide to let go of this guilt, keep her chin above her shoulders, play it off like it didn’t twist the dagger stuck in her heart.

The after party was just as brutal. Drinks and dances of celebration for what end? Evangeline found herself standing in the corner, keeping a distance away. The ballroom was gorgeous despite what felt like a homicide in front of her. The walls glistened with painted gold trim and offset the pure white painted below. The marble floor shimmered in the candlelight from ahead. The curtains were pulled high to let the moonlight glaze the room in its glow. It was the kind of terrifying magic that made her shiver. 

She pushed her hair back as it had caught itself in her dangling silver earrings. Her hair was quite bothersome sometimes, the long wavy blonde mess she did her best to manage. However, it deemed itself difficult. The frizz, the knots, the wanting to poof up in humidity. The fact she could only brush it when it was wet successfully made her want to cut it all off. At the moment she pulled it back into a bow the same material and color of her dress. Adorned on what was visible around her neck was a pearl necklace with the crest of manchester upon a locket. It was a gift from her mother. It proved her allegiance to the kingdom and its wishes. A promise to always put it above her. It sat at her neck, the price she would pay if she failed her duties. 

The dress itself was terribly heavy as the fabric was velvet over a gown of white cotton. The poof of her sleeves quickly became tight around her triceps down to where it met with her gloves at the elbows, keeping her skin away from the eye. A belt kept the dress together with another broach of the crest. She was the symbol of Manchester, its voice, its speaker. You could recognize her from miles away, always adorned in blue with long blonde hair.

She let out a sigh, feeling uneasy in the environment. Watching people dance and laugh like they hadn’t just been at war for five years, barely scraping by. She hated how perfectly it played out, just like she predicted. The other kingdom accepted the offer graciously, getting all the things they wanted. They had many sons to marry off and in this they got more for they bargained for. For Manchester they may have gotten out of the war but they lost something precious. One life for thousands. There is a reason this is such a consistent strategy to end a war, it works. It works too well. 

Ghost approached with two glasses in his hand. His royal armor, much fancier and presentable than his usual one covered in grime. He looked almost handsome in this light but he still was a mangled dog. 

“Advisor,” He grumbled and handed her a glass.

“General,” She responded with a curt nod, accepting his gift. “What is this for?” “It was your plan that allowed for less bloodshed, even if we paid a high price. We drink to that darlin’.” He said. This might have been the most words he has ever put together, at least that had reached her ears. She let her eyes find the floor. She swore she could almost see her reflection in it, her eyes looked tired.

“Thank you General.” She raised her head to look at him with a soft smile. They may not be friends. They will not be two people who will sit next to a fire with a drink, or tell each other their stories nor their beliefs. But they were two allies fighting for the same cause. They are the two safeguards for the people of this kingdom. 

So the two of them stand with their champagne, drinks far too fancy for their tastes, and they watch. Watch as everything they knew will never be the same again.