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theallbluesea · 2 months ago

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For the maybe 7 X. Drake enjoyers

How are we feeling about knight!Drake AU?

Unfortunately for all of you, I had some feelings about it, and those feelings resulted in almost 2000 words of (probably self-indulgent) thoughts including a little bit of x reader in the second half.

Woe! Knight!Drake be upon ye!

As a knight’s son, Drake grew up in the courts surrounded by valor and chivalry. A small but eager boy, he dreamed of the day when he would be old enough to protect the realm like his father (a knight of some renown).

He loved animals and could often be found helping to take care of the horses and hunting dogs. He was also fascinated by the stars and lingered around visiting astronomers, gleaning what knowledge he could from them.

During his childhood, Drake was easily captivated by bards’ tales of knights performing miraculous deeds, wielding magic swords, slaying dragons, and standing firm against the forces of evil that would destroy the realm.

His chance came during the winter of his fourteenth year. He was old enough and had proven sufficient skill with a blade to ride out as a squire in his father’s company.

News of treachery swiftly followed. The company had betrayed the crown and become brutal mercenaries, sell-swords for the highest bidder. For years, that was all the court knew until, one particularly cruel winter, Drake returned. He was the sole survivor of a battle with a rival mercenary band that had claimed the lives of his father and all the company.

It was clear that Drake had come back…changed. He was now nineteen but appeared nearly as young as he had when he’d first left. His face and body were scarred, and he walked without making a sound. There was little shine in his once bright eyes. He had no interest in the pleasures of the court and threw himself into training.

It was also clear that Drake was now cursed. When he fought, his nails and teeth grew sharper and scales erupted in the creases of his body. If he so willed, he could transform into a draconic beast, awful and fury-filled but lacking the wings of a true dragon – one final indignity. Rumors abounded. He’d stolen fruit from a wizard’s orchard. The fae had altered him for their amusement. He had dealt with devils and forsaken his immortal soul for power. Whatever the truth was, Drake would not speak of it.

Over the next decade, Drake grew in both strength and height, until he topped two meters and could wield multiple blades with ease. (“The curse,” the courtiers whispered. How else could such a soft, small boy become so powerful?). He also grew in isolation and apathy, fighting like a man who did not expect nor care to see the next dawn.

[Now for the X Reader stuff]

A minor noble, you came to court as a royal attendant. Despite the lavishness of the palace, you found no rest there. Your house had fallen on hard times, shaming the crown in the process. You had been taken in out of charity and everyone knew it.

Drake was assigned as your protector. Ostensibly, it was because, fallen house or not, you were still a noble and somebody had to make sure you conducted yourself in an appropriate manner, but to you it felt as if you had been saddled with a babysitter. With a realm at peace, was there really nothing more important for a knight to be doing? For some reason, your being paired up amused the courtiers to no end. You heard rumors about Drake. He had traitor’s blood. He was fae-touched, cursed. But none of those rumors seemed to fit the man you grew to know.

He was serious and stern, true, but he was also virtuous and kind. The only time he seemed to relax was in the presence of the small group of knights he had recently assumed command over. He also, and you smiled to think of it, doted on his horse.

“She’s the only steed that will bear me,” he confided, in a rare moment of openness. Even then, he looked away from you. “The others all spooked when I came near.” You didn’t ask why.

Drake was obviously strong, but you’d never seen him fight. Every time you tried to follow him to the training grounds, he would notice your presence, no matter how stealthy you were, and send you away.

Still, the two of you grew closer, and it wasn’t long before you felt the first traces of romantic feelings for the stoic but kind-hearted knight. You hid these feelings well, or so you thought.

For his part, Drake had begun to suspect that you now saw him as more than just a protector. He wished he could feel honored, maybe even return those feelings, but he wasn’t a fool. It must be some courtiers’ game at his expense and, even if it wasn’t, your feelings couldn’t possibly be true. You weren’t aware yet of the nature of his curse, after all.

Unfortunately for you both, peace in your realm could not last. War broke out with a neighboring kingdom, and Drake was removed from your service. In the relative safety of the palace, you worried for your knight and his small company. The fighting was said to be fierce, and you heard tell that, in many skirmishes, a beast would appear on the field and turn the tide of battle.

Feeling useless, and to distract yourself from the worry, you began to study herb-lore and simple medicine.

Soon, the palace where you resided was no longer safe, and the court moved to the capital.

On route, your retinue unexpectedly passed the site of an ongoing battle and was caught up in it. The knights with you defended you admirably, but all seemed lost until…

A creature, larger than your carriage, four-legged and wingless appeared on the battlefield. It was covered in a black and red scaled hide and had teeth and claws sharper than any blade you had ever seen. As you watched, you realized that the rumors were true. This beast fought with intelligence and fury precisely directed at the realm’s enemies. When the opposing army began its retreat, the beast collapsed, a number of fresh wounds on its side and belly.

You were shocked to see your realm’s forces also begin to move on, no one sparing a thought for the creature that had saved their lives. The unfairness of it ignited something in you, and you leapt from the carriage, ignoring cries of protest as you made your way to the fallen beast.

Its amber eyes swiveled to you, and a low growl began in its throat as you came near.

You stood your ground.

“I believe you can understand me,” you said, fishing a jar from your satchel. “I’m not going to hurt you. This is a poultice of comfrey and sage. It staunches wounds, prevents them from rotting. See?”

You uncorked the jar and held it out, fighting the shaking in your hands. The beast raised its head and appeared to sniff the contents. Satisfied, it lowered its head, but a growl still rumbled in its throat.

“You fought valiantly, and you don’t deserve to be left behind this way. Please, let me help you.”

Reaching one poultice-covered hand out, you gently placed it against a shallower wound. The beast shuddered under your touch, but allowed you to rub the salve into the wound. You moved on to the next.

“I’m sure this sounds selfish,” you sighed, “but I believe your interventions are saving someone dear to me. I’ve received no word of his death, so I have to keep hoping.”

The growling stopped. You continued your work.

“It’s better protection than the charm I sewed into the lining of his gambeson before he left,” you laughed. “That little trinket has no rending claws or sharp teeth. Just my love, whatever good that will do. There. I’m finished.”

You backed away as the beast rose to its feet. It gave you one last glance before darting away across the field. With it gone, you hurried back to your retinue, preparing for their admonishments.

Your party made camp in relative safety, having met up with your kingdom’s forces from the earlier battle. You were confined to your tent, restless and frustrated, unable to scout around for news of Drake.

You had just resigned yourself to ignorance when your tent flap was thrown open and you stared, gaping, into a pair of sea-blue eyes. Drake looked haggard, still in his armor and painted with mud and drying blood.

It took all your practiced decorum not to embrace him, but you leapt up nonetheless.

“Your Grace,” Drake’s face was crimson, though from anger or another emotion, you could not tell. “My duty once-upon-a-time was to safeguard you from all harm. Why would you do something so reckless?”

“The summer palace was no longer safe. We had to leave. How were we to know we were stumbling into a battle?”

He shook his head and heaved an exasperated sigh. “You’re willfully misunderstanding me. I heard what you did this afternoon.”

You crossed your arms. His attitude had returned to how it had been when you first met him. Serious, stern, no hint of softness. And you’d waited so long to see him again. Your voice rose before you could stop it.

“The knights all say the beast fights the realm’s enemies. Yet when it appears, they leave it to fight alone. And when it’s injured, they leave it to lick its wounds alone. It’s too cruel.”

“Draconic creatures are dangerous and unpredictable. They are outside of the gods’ graces. I cannot allow you to taint yourself that way! I would never forgive myself.” Drake seemed to be looking through you, and you noticed the tremor that had started in his gloved hands. Was he injured? Had he eaten anything since the battle? Drank anything? You stepped closer to him and lowered your voice, making it soft and soothing as you had done this afternoon when you had gained the beast’s wary trust.

“Ser Knight, you’re speaking nonsense. To me, it seems as if the gods have sent us a divine protector. Who are we to judge the skin it wears?” You reached out, intending to take his hand. “Come. At least let me give you water, wash the dust from your face.”

Drake’s stern countenance began to soften, and he let your fingers brush his for just a moment before swiftly turning away. When he spoke, his voice was tight.

“No, Your Grace. I should take my leave. Goodnight.”

Without so much as a glance over his shoulder, Drake left your tent.

You stared after him for a few minutes, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Getting up to tie your tent flap closed for the night, you paused. In the space where Drake had stood was a faint odor of comfrey and sage.

#kicks back #oh yes my food

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