#genevieve hall

[ofleafstructure]

Illustration of a scene from Mervyn Peake's Titus Groan ; Genevieve Simms

[catherinesboleyn]

ANNE BOLEYN APPRECIATION WEEK

Day 5 - Favorite family dynamic

Anne and Elizabeth

[annabolinas]

May 19, 1536 - Anne Boleyn is Beheaded

"Good Christian people, I have come here to die. For according to the law, and by the law, I am judged to die and therefore, I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak of that whereof I am accused and condemned to die. But I pray God save the King and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never. And to me he was ever a good, a gentle, and sovereign lord. And if any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best. And thus I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. O Lord, have mercy on me. To God, I commend my soul.' And then she knelt down, saying, 'To Christ I commend my soul, Jesu receive my soul', divers times, till that her head was stricken off with the sword.” - Anne's execution, as reported in Hall's Chronicle (1548)

""On a scaffold made there for the said execution, the said Queen Anne said thus: 'Masters, I here humbly submit me to the law, as the law hath judged me. And as for mine offenses, I here accuse no man; God knoweth them. I remit them to God, beseeching him to have mercy on my soul. And I beseech Jesu, save my sovereign and master, the King - the most godly, noble, and gentle prince that is, and long to reign over you.' Which words were spoken with a goodly smiling countenance. And this done, she knelt down on her knees and said: "To Jesu Christ, I commend my soul'. And suddenly, the hangman smote off her head at a stroke with a sword." - Anne's execution, as reported in Wriothesley's Chronicle (1559)

"And so she went to the place of her ordeal

To obey the will of justice,

Still showing a serene countenance,

As if she did not grieve for this world in any way;

For her coloring and face were such

That never before did she seem so beautiful ...

There was no one who does not have firm hope

That her spirit will not be in agony,

Given her great faith and wise patience,

Which rose above womanly courage.

Everyone, on the basis of her mightily steady end,

Judges her life to have been prudent

And believes they have committed a great offense

In having thought so ill of her." - Lancelot de Carle's The Story of the Fall of Anne Boleyn (1536, trans. Joann Dellaneva)

"Anne, the late Queen, suffered with sword this day within the Tower upon a new scaffold and died boldly. Jesu take them [i.e. Anne and the five men] to His mercy if it be His will." - John Husee to Lord Lisle, May 19, 1536

[juanatrastamara]

tudor week 24; six wives fancast

denisse peña molina as catalina de aragon

genevieve gaunt as anne boleyn

naomi battrick as jane seymour

lou de lâage as anna von kleve

kaitlyn dever as kathryn howard

lena headey as katherine parr

[screamingfrenchfries]

mr. cantor this song goes FAR too fucking hard for being a DISNEY JUNIOR track ????!?

[samusique-concrete]

My favorite albums of 2023

This is not a list of the ‘best’ albums of the year. These are just my favorites. However, i need you to understand something: I don’t have the time and/or brain bandwidth to listen to and forge a bond with every single album i’d like to get to in any given year. Thus, my disclaimer is twofold — the following are my favorite records of the year, among the selection of records that i did have time to get to. I’m sure i would’ve loved many others, but i just don’t wanna be someone who’d listen to an album for the first time at the end of the year, decide it’s ‘great’, and rank it shoulder to shoulder with my favorites. It would be disingenuous.

I will now present my ten favorite records of the past year, but there’s another catch: i will only talk about four of them, and they won’t be precisely my top four either. Instead, i’m going to talk about my tenth most liked album, and then my third through to number one. It’ll make sense as the read goes on.

Let’s begin.

IN TIMES NEW ROMAN…

Queens of the Stone Age

I’ll just say this right now: there hasn’t been, to me, a better mainstream rock act than Queens of the Stone Age since at least 2002. They represent what i would say is ‘as good as it gets’ in the genre. Even now, in 2023, when frontman Josh Homme is older and naturally starting to slow down (although tracks like Paper Machete would suggest there's plenty of gas left in the tank,) he still manages to unabashedly follow his own musical compass, that which was forged decades ago by his own design. 

In Times New Roman… is not one of the group’s best albums. In fact, i probably would prefer pretty much any other album in their catalog before this one, but therein lies the thing about this band: it doesn’t have to put out a mindblowing achievement of a record for it to be at least pretty good. Queens’ magic trick here is being consistent; if we were to buffoonishly rank their albums from worst to best, we’d find that the distance that separates the peak from the bottom is not at all Everest tall. That’s a hard trick to pull off.

Another point in favor of this album is its vulnerability. Infamously conceived as catharsis following a rough and tumultuous period in the frontman’s life, it was his interview on Neal Brennan’s The Blocks Podcast that really opened my eyes about this whole thing. In case it wasn’t made clear earlier, i’m a fan of the band, and as such it’s been always obvious to me that the guy’s had a complicated relationship with substances. You’d have to be deaf not to notice that. I’ve watched many interviews over the years, and i’d become accustomed to the certain type of way in which he carried himself. This is why his appearance on Blocks kind of stunned me. Here he was, nonchalantly going into a lot of detail about his drug abuse and how it has affected him and how he clearly sees how it has hurt others and also himself. Now, i don’t know the guy personally, i don’t know how he approaches these sorts of topics with people when the cameras are off, but what i do know is that that’s not the Josh Homme that he himself had constructed for years for the media to consume. The questionable performance seemed to be put to rest. This unceremoniously matured persona was refreshing to listen to: it made me appreciate the record a lot more, because he truly allowed himself to be vulnerable for once (although this feels like the next step in a process that began with 2013’s …Like Clockwork and continued with 2017’s Villains.) I’ll touch upon this a bit later, but that is, at least to me, very brave. The days of the emotionless tough guy are over, but that doesn’t mean that a very healthy dose of anti-establishment aggression has to be left by the wayside.

LIVE AT BUSH HALL

Black Country, New Road

Music isn’t movies. Therefore, it isn’t often that we get to say ‘you need to listen to the album that came before to understand this new one.’ This is the case for Live at Bush Hall.

Now, i would genuinely hate for this to add to the ongoing conversation in which the band’s past keeps taking center stage. I would much rather talk about the present and whatever the current work’s merits are. However, context is needed.

BC,NR quickly rose to indie fame thanks to the painful relatableness of their 2022 sophomore album, Ants from Up There; a beautiful, longing follow-up to their esoteric debut. The song’s lyrics were deeply personal and told what read as fictionalized autobiographical accounts of the band’s frontman’s love life. Shortly after releasing the record, however, he left the band. Paired with these news, the band announced that they’d keep making music without him, but that the old songs would not be played live in the future. This left fans and curious bystanders alike wondering about what they would sound like moving forward, who was going to sing now, how would the new lyrics meld with the pre-established themes of their past work, and so on. I think Live at Bush Hall is in equal parts a beautiful and thoughtful response to all of these propositions, which obviously the band worked towards answering first and foremostly for their own sake.

The fact that the group is a six piece ensemble containing piano, violin and saxophone on top of more conventional guitar music instrumentation notwithstanding, it is my opinion that Live at Bush Hall represents the present of all of rock music. What better way to capture this than with a live album? The idea is multilayered in its ingeniousness, since it wouldn’t be held to the audience’s expectations of what a studio album could bring in this new phase for the group. It’s also a gamble, though, since it’d be nearly fifty minutes of entirely new material played in front of a crowd, and also they’d have to nail the performances for the recording. Luckily, and to the surprise of no one who was already familiar with them, they proved to be excellent musicians who were very much up to the task and the gamble paid off in spades.

The fact that this is a live album also placed constraints on the compositions; these are the now canonized versions of new songs that couldn’t, by design, count on studio trickery or embellishments to stand out. It’s just the musicians, their instruments, and the arrangements. And it sounds amazing.

In a lovingly nodding manner, the opening track sees the band screaming “Look at what we did together / BCNR, friends forever”, in a way that seems to look back, but also look forward. Even more than in their already ambitious Ants From Up There, they take advantage of the instrumentation in very clever ways, adding to the performance and staging aspects of the album. Certain passages feel like they’re out of a play (with songs like The Boy explicitly being divided into chapters,) and it is obvious that this is very much the intended effect once you look at the video recording of the concerts that make up the the album: it was a whole mise-en-scène, purposefully directed, and well rehearsed. The band played three times at Bush Hall, and before each set they handed programmes to the attendees. They then hopped on stage dressed in deliberate costume design following a particular aesthetic. These ‘plays’, and their respective items (except for the setlist), were all different those three times. The movie intercalates takes of all of the three nights, so we get to see the band wearing all of their costumes, all of the sets, and all of the programmes.

This clear love of performance is evident in the songs themselves. Not to spoil the ending, but the album closes with a reprise of the first track (a real exposition-conflict-resolution move on their part,) and pretty much all of its themes are present and brought back, sometimes literally, in many of the songs. Even now distributing singing duties among several of their members, male and female voices alike, drama still emerges; not missing their vocal might after the departure of their lead singer, the band’s lyrics are still painful and their wails still resonant. Some of the performances are so good as to even elicit the sense that what they’re singing about isn’t just some story that somebody’s recounting; they’re happening to you. In performing arts that’s about the highest praise you can give.

PETRODRAGONIC APOCALYPSE; OR, DAWN OF ETERNAL NIGHT: AN ANNIHILATION OF PLANET EARTH AND THE BEGINNING OF MERCILESS DAMNATION

King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard

King Gizz have many times before come very close to having what could’ve been my favorite album of the year. It’s ok, though; i’m glad they can occupy that Scottie Pippen spot in my heart.

Petrodragonic Apocalypse; or, Dawn of Eternal Night: An Annihilation of Planet Earth and the Beginning of Merciless Damnation is the band’s second full-fledged metal album, which is a genre that even before Infest the Rats’ Nest (its spiritual prequel) had popped up here and there amongst their numerous tracklists. Just in case you didn’t know already, the long story short is that KG has made a bajillion records and each of them has a unique concept and/or aesthetic. Sometimes some of those concepts reappear, making some of the records share a narrative and be in conversations with one another. 2019’s Infest the Rats’ Nest was the first time the band indulged completely in what was, inevitably at that point, a sound that needed to be explored comprehensively for the span of a whole record, after several songs in their discography having served as teasers of sorts. It proved to be a success (even being nominated for an ARIA Music Award for best metal album of the year, along with other, actual self-identified metal outfits,) pulling inspiration mainly from the thrash metal side of the spectrum and being always as vocal as they always have been in this particular common thread of theirs: we’re fucking up the planet. That's, like, their whole thing.

Petrodragonic Apocalypse feels like an evolution of Rats’ Nest in basically every regard. Its music is heavier, mathier, proggier, more dense, more environmentally minded, lengthier and, frankly, seemingly more difficult to perform. Being this not their first stab at heavier sounds, they complemented the album with one other area of expertise they possess: self-referencing musical passages.

Although their first record came out in 2012, it wasn’t until 2014 (which in retrospect isn’t that much time after) with I’m in your Mind Fuzz where they started to heavily introduce into their work the concept of melodies or refrains reappearing all throughout a single record. Maybe the first track would start out with a particular riff, which would later develop into a different melody for a couple of bars, which we soon would find would be used as the main riff for the following track, etcetera. This concept was then taken to its maximum exponent in 2016’s Nonagon Infinity, a record in which every track flows seamlessly into the next one (with even the last one looping back to the first one,) making it feel like one huge song. This would later culminate, at least narratively, in 2017’s space opera staging Murder of the Universe (that’s my favorite one!) but that way of making music, or albums specifically, seems to have become a habit of theirs, with fans now uploading countless videos on YouTube cross-referencing melodies from different albums to present as some kind of King Gizzard ���lore’, regardless of what the main concept of each particular album ends up being. Petrodragonic Apocalypse harvests this skill and runs with it, adding some much needed cohesion to the madness. The drumming is insane, the guitar riffs are insane, the whole thing is insane! Yet, it is focused.

DESIRE, I WANT TO TURN INTO YOU

Caroline Polachek

Caroline Polachek made realize something very special: pop music is being vulnerable.

Now, we could dig into that statement with a hundred caveats, but that’d just suck the fun out of it. Here’s what i mean.

For many years i’ve thought of mainstream pop as something that didn’t, or couldn’t, contain me. It was very hard for me to relate to mainstream pop, probably because of its often rigid and spotless production and sound identity. Much of it sounded sterile to me, and i guess i sort of tagged that prejudice onto the entirety of the genre. I wanna be clear, though: i still think that about a lot of it — i just don’t think it’s all the same anymore. This type of change of mind would i’m sure seem inevitable to anyone that has simply sat down and listened to any given genre for long enough; pop music is simply an example in this case. It happens just like that; something unlocks inside your brain, and you get it. Heck, it’s happened to me with many other genres already.

I don’t feel any shame in admitting my teen-like stupidity. If you’re a teenager right now you won’t get this, but you have to be fifteen before you’re twenty-five. Any adult could tell you: it’s not that you have to go through adolescence — you have to live through stupidity. I didn’t say it, nor did i really think about it consciously in these terms, but when i was fifteen i took a certain kind of pride in not listening to pop music. I liked rougher, heavier stuff. That was my ‘whole thing.’ I would years later shift into the perspective that much of what i liked then was, actually, just as shallow, disingenuous, and, musically speaking, thought-murderingly conceived as the stuff i disdained and didn’t choose to listen to. However now i find that my favorite 2022 and 2023 albums have both been pop albums.

At some point i stumbled onto Queens of the Stone Age. Here, i found a band that, for lack of a better term, got it. Their "don't care if it hurts, just so long as it's real" attitude towards music, towards art, and by extension towards being a person in general, helped me. It’s not about the genre — it’s about what you make of it, and how you make it, and about it grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you. Years later this same ethos would aid me in making my mother understand that it’s not that she disliked all westerns or musicals, it’s that she didn’t like shitty movies.

The opener to QotSA’s 2002 mainstream rock masterpiece Songs for the Deaf could, potentially (though it hasn’t been scientifically tested, i’m pretty sure,) blow your head right off. Though in it, amidst hellishly screamed vocals, then-bassist Nick Oliveri mellows down his voice just the right amount in order to sing the following sentence:

Metal heavy, soft at the core.

This sentiment, purposefully or not, defines the band. It also crudely puts into words what i crave most about music, and the reason why they’ve been my favorite rock band ever since i listened to them for the first time: aesthetics are nothing if they’re not backed up by true emotion. You can tap into this true emotion by allowing your self to shine through whatever you’re doing, whatever that means to you. Façades are just that: 2D images that say nothing about who’s behind them, and it’s thanks to some real insecurity that you start depending on them, deploying them and taking cover. If you’re a teenager right now you probably won’t get this (or maybe you will and i got real old real fast and grew to misunderstand the youth,) but being yourself is the coolest thing in the universe because it requires of you a certain kind of vulnerability that is, more often than not, really hard to come by. You just have to be brave enough to do it. Motomami shares with Desire, I Want to Turn Into You that same vulnerability. I’m sure that had Sakura not been the closer to that album, it wouldn't have topped my last year’s list.

With Queens of the Stone Age’s refrain serving as my thesis statement, i will now use it to rephrase my opening statement: being yourself is being vulnerable, and being vulnerable is one of the coolest things you can be.

Caroline Polachek knows very well who she is.

During the brilliantly unorthodox set piece premiere performance of her single Dang, Caroline acted out screaming her lungs out at millions of americans watching live on a highly popular late night TV show. This isn’t regular ‘popstar’ stuff — she went and became a popstar at age 34 after already having recorded and released many different albums across many different projects, many of them not being really pop at all. She even dropped an entirely ambient album under the CEP moniker at some point. You might not get it right now, whatever age you are, but that’s fucking cool. I checked out Pang, the predecessor to Desire, I Want to Turn Into You (a sweetly elusive example of a punctuation mark deftly incorporated into an album title) right when it dropped, not really knowing who she was or what her ‘whole thing’ was. I figured she might as well have materialized right out of the pop aether. Well, i was wrong. Caroline has been very carefully crafting her musical presence since 2005, and i am as convinced that Desire represents the peak of her ‘herselfness’ just as i am, now knowing her, that whatever comes after will naturally surpass it in that regard.

Something interesting arises when thinking about her aforementioned premiere of Dang, or for example her NPR Tiny Desk Concert as well: she loves to perform. I can relate to this. There is a clear desire to display her art in striking ways, to set up these intricately rehearsed sequences that etch her everything into your brain with a tingling, instead of just letting the music stand on its own. It very much could, mind you, but by God, does she achieve the full effect. She’s a bespoke, partnerlessly designed whole package.

I could go on about how talented she is, but that’d be stating the obvious since it’s easily noticeable just from listening to any of her stuff. I particularly love how it’s evident in how she uses her voice that she’s not just a singer but also an instrument player (you will get this if you’ve played an instrument for more than a couple of years.) She even does all of the weird vocal stuff from her albums live, with her own vocal cords, instead of using effects or manipulation. That’s also so, so cool. But more than talent, i mainly wanna reflect on how Desire makes me feel. From its album cover (another example of her being on her own lane: the album clearly takes inspiration from early 2000s music, even bringing Dido on board for one of the tracks, yet the cover emphatically does not go with a generic Y2K aesthetic, even at the time of its release, when it seemed to be so in vogue,) it looks like there’s an unquenchable thirst powering her every movement. I interpret this as passion.

The music on the record is great, and i feel it's a step up from Pang. Each song has the right amount of space, and the harmony keeps the listener interested. There is more screaming (yay!) right from the beginning of the first track, Welcome To My Island, and i don’t know how to explain it, but the song itself does kind of sound like an island. I like how, as i alluded to earlier, it seems like the whole of the compositions are informed by her voice being thought of as the main instrument first, and how the songs are constructed around ideas that you could only have come up with after ‘noodling’ on your own vocal chords. The melodies become instantly super gratifying as she picks ear-pulling intervallic relationships to leap to or jump off from, or when she just makes interesting stepwise runs (some passages from the closer, Billions, remind me a bit of Morten Lauridsen’s Dirait-on, though i’m not necessarily inviting anyone to think she must’ve taken inspiration from it.) Her words can go from playful (like in the opener: “Welcome to my island / Hope you like me / You ain’t leaving”) to yearnful (from one of the slower numbers: “Starlight in a tunnel / Kind of familiar / Hopedrunk everasking / How does it feel to know / Your final form?”) But most of all, they are beautiful. Take the chorus of the single Sunset, for example:

No regrets

Cause you’re my sunset

Fiery red

Forever fearless

And in your arms

A warm horizon

Don’t look back

Let’s ride away

The words alone are gorgeous, but when you hear her singing them, it’s… Man, it’s something else. I’m lucky, and grateful, that a record as good and soulful and loving as this one could come along, reach out, and awaken something deep inside of me.

[abookishidentity]

Books read and finished in February 2025

-The Gone Away World by Nick Harkaway started January 31, 2025 and finished February 4, 2025- 3/5 stars. I think Nick Harkaway does a really good job at writing interesting characters and stories. However it gets to the point where it doesn’t really fit together all that well? I don’t know. At least this was better than the previous book I read of his. I honestly thought the main character was just referring to himself in the third person sometimes. The main character is actually a side of the character he is constantly talking about. It’s interesting. The world is interesting in this book. A new world is going to bring a new kind of people. We shouldn’t destroy these people as the main character is one of these people. Also this book is written in a certain way that makes sense once you are told what the main character is. I didn’t like it at first but I get it. 

-What you are looking for is in the library by Michiko Aoyama started February 4, 2025 and finished February 6, 2025- 3/5 stars. I was given this book to read by someone who says this inspired them. I can see why but this book tries really hard to do that. Too hard in fact. I think some things are lost in translation. I didn’t care for the fat shaming. It was a mixture of Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi and The Midnight Library by Matt Haig. Take that as you will. This book did not impress me. 

-The Dissonance by Shaun Hamill started February 6, 2025 and finished February 9, 2025- 4/5 stars. I think I don’t care for the coming of age genre. This book is about a couple of friends going through it and learning magic essentially. I didn’t really care for the parts in which they are teens but more for when they are jaded 30 year olds. Most of the book was about them as teens. There was not enough of Owen in this book. Can’t claim this book is queer if Owen barely shows up. The character of Phillip was weird and interesting. I am not sure how I feel about his relationship with Owen after he had something with the character of Erin. Professor Marsh is an asshole and I’m glad they got rid of him. It was a quick read as the chapters were quite short. 

-Mortal Follies by Alexis Hall started February 10, 2025 and finished February 12, 2025- 3/5 stars. This book was entertaining. Woman gets cursed and has to figure out how to get uncursed and runs into a woman who helps. However the pacing was weird. At the half way point the main character runs into the powerful man who cursed her for “slighting him” at a party and I thought “What's the rest of this book about?” At least she kills him and gets away with it. At a quarter through the book she and the woman declare their lust for each other which seems early for me but whatever. The rest of the book is her getting cursed by the other woman’s curse. The book was fun when the main character’s best friend came around. She was hilarious. 

-Beautyland by Marie-Helene Bertino started February 12, 2025 and finished February 14, 2025- 4/5 stars. A girl is born and she is a messenger of aliens. She is to report her findings to the aliens. It was cute and slice of life. I like that she communicated to them through fax and they would respond. 

-Ink & Sigil by Kevin Hearne started February 15, 2025 and finished February 17, 2025- 4/5 stars. Man I love urban fantasy. This was a joy to read. I like that the main character was in his 60s. That’s different. It took me a bit to get used to the accent people spoke in. The main character was cursed. It's heart breaking that he can’t talk to his son anymore as his son hates him. The more he talks out loud to people the more they hate him. So he talks through his phone which is entertaining. 

-The Masked City by Genevieve Cogman started February 17, 2025 and finished February 19, 2025. 3/5 stars. This book irritated me. Kai is overpowered and had to be kidnapped to be sold in an auction. Glad it never came to that. Kai works well with Irene. They have good chemistry. What bothered me most is that not only there's Lord Silver trying to seduce and control Irene but there was also the villain of the book trying to do the same thing. Fucking hated it. Not only that but then Vale had to save Irene. That was really annoying. At least she was able to kill the villain of the book. 

-The Burning Page by Genevieve Cogman started February 20, 2025 and finished February 22, 2025- 4/5 stars. This book was much better. I’m glad I kept reading the series. This series is so damn cool. I didn’t think dragons would be a huge part of this series. Alberich is a much more interesting villain. Irene deals with so much shit all the time. Now she is figuring out that her parents aren’t her birth parents.  

-The Lost Plot by Genevieve Cogman started February 23, 2025 and finished February 25, 2025- 4/5 stars. This book had a cool aesthetic. 1920s prohibition New York with mobsters, dragons and the fae. It was neat. She is told that she is adopted like in a really off handed way.

-The Mortal Word by Genevieve Cogman started February 26, 2025- Still reading this book. Irene deals with so much bullshit. I wonder if we get to meet her parents who are being used as hostages in this book.

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Sixteen - Entanglement

♡♡♡

When you wake up in the morning, you spend a good few moments simply smiling up at your ceiling. The memories of last night come rushing back to you.

You feel giddy.

When the concert had finally ended, Lord Hardy escorted you out to your carriage. He plucked a rose from a nearby potted rose bush and gave it to you. He also had not let you depart without placing a kiss upon your gloved hand.

Your mother had been ecstatic on the way home.

The end of the season was drawing in. It seemed you had managed to secure a match after all. Perhaps you would write to him once he returned to the country.

Your mother and yourself would be staying in London.

Your maid came to wake you, and before you knew it, you were up and ready to face the day. You met your mother for breakfast. All she did was gush about the concert and how proud of you she was.

You couldn't stop smiling.

As you tuck into your breakfast, the butler comes in and declares you have received a gift. You glance at your mother and then back at him as a maid comes in carrying a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

"From Lord Hardy, ma'am."

You grin and look at your mother as she squeals with glee.

Things are looking up for you.

♡♡♡

"Then where did you meet her?" Elosie asks her brother as she follows him through the house.

She was, of course, referring to Genevieve.

"About town," he responds.

"At her shop?"

"Should you not be off somewhere, getting ready to attend your very first ball?" Benedict asks her, hoping to cease her questioning.

Eloise groans.

Hyacinth looks up at Anthony and asks if she may join in on the fun this summer at Aubrey Hall. She is asking about their usual game of Pall Mall.

Anthony snaps out of his thoughts and agrees that she may, as long as she does not touch his lucky mallet.

Eloise sits down with Benedict, continuing to question him.

She had thought her brother had been interested in you, but it seemed she was wrong. Which made his friendship with the tailor even more intriguing to her.

"What other places might Madame Delacroix frequent besides her shop?"

There was also the thought that Eloise suspected the tailor to be Lady Whistledown.

"Many places, Eloise, for her many interests." Benedict responds, sketching in his book. He had still been working on his art since he last saw you.

"You mean her many secrets. You should be careful, Benedict. Madame Delacroix may not be who you think she is," Eloise says. "And consorting with her, well, there may be consequences."

Benedict shushes her quietly, hoping the others didn't hear that.

"I would have expected this from anyone but you," he says. "You think just because Madame Delacroix has a paid occupation, or because she does not reside with the bounds of Grosvenor Square, she's different. Is that it? That she is somehow less deserving of my attention because she is not whom polite society deems appropriate?"

"That is not what I'm saying at all." Eloise clarifies.

"Then what are you saying?"

Eloise sighs and looks at her brother. "You are right. I should prepare for our sister's ball."

"Perhaps you should."

Eloise stands to leave but is stopped by the entrance of Violet entering the room.

"Aunt Winnie jas sent word. Francesca will be arriving home tomorrow," Violet smiles.

"How exciting!" Hyacinth beams.

"Perhaps she can tell us of time spent far from London," Colin comments.

"Fran has missed so much," Gregory points out.

"Mm. Indeed." Violet nods. "It certainly has been an eventful season, what with Daphne and the duke, and then Anthony and..."

Anthony lifts his head.

"Yes, well, never mind." Violet stops herself from going further. She leaves the room.

Benedict sighs as he sketches in his book.

♡♡♡

Eloise knocks on the door of the modiste urgently. Madame Delacroix opens the door, dressed in her robe. Her shop wasn't even open today.

"Miss Eloise, you should come back another day when the shop is open."

"I had hoped you would make an exception for me," Eloise chuckles. "I need a dress for my sister's ball."

"You already have a dress for your sister's ball."

"I need another one. A young lady can never have too many dresses." Eloise forces out another chuckle.

She is let in.

"Oh! Perhaps this one." Eloise goes over to a bright yellow gown. "It would make me look quite in fashion in the eyes of the Featheringtons, I rather think. Unfortunate young ladies. They are still quite stung from Lady Whistledown's recent exposé."

Benedict lurks on the stairs, listening to his sister talk. Did she know he had come here?

"I wish the author would write something flattering about them!" Eloise continues.

"Perhaps she will."

"What makes you say that?" Eloise asks.

"Because she knows what is good for her business, and angering loyal customers is not good."

"No... No, it is not." Eloise agrees. "Whether those loyal customers be Featheringtons or Bridgertons, even... Lady Whistledown might wish to examine what she writes about both."

"Indeed."

"I have heard people say that men, such as my brother, if you will, can withstand rumour and gossip, but... I am not always so sure."

"I know why you are here, Miss Eloise. You are very smart, and you care very much about the people in your life, as you should. But you must know I have no intention of compromising anyone."

"That is good." Eloise says. "Because the queen is enraged. So whoever Whistledown is should be careful. I would hate her to be silenced before she has a chance to change her ways and make things right."

"I believe Whistledown is smart enough to take care of herself," Genevieve states.

"Yes. She certainly is." Eloise smiles. "Charming chatting with you, Madame Delacroix."

Eloise leaves.

"Lock the door." Benedict says, looking at her once his sister has left the shop.

♡♡♡

Lord Hardy had come to visit you. You hadn't stopped smiling the entire time he was at the house. Conversation was engaging and thrilling. You were eager to know more about him, and he about you.

Your mother watched you both talk feeling like everything was coming together.

When Lord Hardy requested you join him, your mother had no qualms against him taking you out for the afternoon. You chuckled as you prepared to go out with him.

A boxing match.

You are reminded of the one Anthony brought you to. The thrilling fight you saw. Not exactly a place for a lady, but you were not about to argue.

"Is this alright?" Hardy asks you.

"Yes. I must confess I find it quite thrilling. Though mother may lose her mind if she finds out."

"As far as your mother knows, we are promanading through the park."

You chuckle as you take your seat next to him, keeping your arm hooked around his. You were looking forward to this.

"It is considered a gentleman's sport, but why remain proper when we can have a little fun?" Hardy grins.

You chuckle.

"Lord Hardy, I think I rather like the way you think."

"Thinking is a dangerous activity, but one I am quite happy to encourage. You must also call me Thomas. I insist."

You smile. "Very well, Thomas."

The Bridgerton brothers enter the arena hall. You spot them immediately. They enter in reverse order. Colin, Benedict, Anthony. Each with a top hat upon their heads.

They don't seem to notice you. You're sat quite far up. Your eyes follow Benedict for a moment. He looks well.

Distance seems to have come between you recently. You've seen him a lot less, and he always seems rather busy.

With the end of the season around the corner, you don't expect you'll be seeing much of him at all. Violet had mentioned Aubrey Hall, their family estate. She had said you were welcome to visit them up there.

You hadn't decided if you wanted to go. Perhaps not. Not if Thomas was going to have all your attentions.

Who knows, maybe you'll be a married woman next time you saw them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, take your seats. The match is about to begin!"

Thomas smiles at you as you smile back.

The fight starts. You and Thomas cheer along with the crowd as you watch bother fighters. Will the man you want to win. Thomas had placed a bet on him. You had told him that you had seen Will fight before.

Will gets a hit in and you cheer.

Thomas chuckles.

Across the ring, Benedict has spotted you. He sees you sitting there with that man on your arm. He turns his eyes quickly back to the fight.

Why should he care that you're here?

Why should he care who you came with?

You cheer again as Will gets another hit in. And another. And another.

But then it switches up.

The Beast hits back. Again and again and again.

You find yourself standing from your seat. Thomas doing the same beside you. You call for Will to hit him back.

He falls to the floor.

The bell rings.

You cling to Thomas's arm as you watch half the room explode into cheer. You watch Mondrich lay there. It was like he chose to stop fighting. You wondered why.

"Come on, get up!"

He did not. He just accepted defeat.

After the fight, you took Hardy's arm, and he guided you down to the entrance. When you reached the doors, you bumped into the Bridgerton brothers, well, two of them. It was Colin who saw you first and spoke your name with a smile.

Benedict turned to look at you. Colin tipped his hat to your companion. "Lord Hardy."

"Mr. Bridgerton." Thomas nodded back.

"Lord Hardy," Benedict greeted, though he seemed less enthusiastic about it. He then turned to you.

"Shame about Mondrich," you say.

"Yes, quite. Unexpected." Colin comments.

"Is he alright, do you know?" You ask.

"I believe so."

"Shall we go?" Thomas asks you. You look at him and nod. You bid farewell to the brothers and walk away with Hardy.

Benedict follows you with his eyes.

Colin nudges his brother, and Benedict turns his eyes away. He gives Colin a smile and walks on.

♡♡♡

"I am confident I could last a few rounds in a boxing ring."

Daphne had invited you to the Bridgerton house where her family was gathering. Her sister Francesca had returned from Bath, and they were all getting together. The duchess extended the invitation to you, which was nice.

You hadn't seen much of them the last couple of weeks. You accepted.

You chuckled at Anthont words about boxing. He seemed fit enough but did not quite strike you as a boxer. You supposed it was because you can only see him as the Viscount.

"Well, that is certainly a match I would like to see." Benedict responds.

He had been rather quiet with you since you arrived at the house.

You look up and see Daphne and Simon jad arrived. You smile at them both and get up to greet Daphne. She takes your hand with a smile.

"It's good to see you," you say.

"Yes. We haven't had the chance to talk much," she replies.

Francesca then comes over to greet Daphne and her husband. Then Hyacinth, too. You chuckle at the excitement in the room.

Hyacinth steals Simon away for a bit.

"Show me what you have been learning, sister." Daphne requests, wanting Fran to play the piano for her. You join the two ladies at the piano.

Eloise is eating chocolate alone on the sofa. Well, she's alone until Benedict sits down with her.

"I do not share food." Eloise scolds him.

"You are not to do what you did the other morning ever again," he scolds her back. "Do you understand, Eloise?" He asks her.

"You mean visiting my new acquaintance?" She grins.

"She is not your acquaintance."

"I was wrong about her. She is wonderful. You have nothing to worry about."

"I was worried about anything."

"Not worried about what?" Anthony asked, coming over and sitting on Eloise's otherwise. He held his hand to Eloise. She stared at it and then gave him a chocolate.

"Uh, I... I have a friendship with Genevieve Delacroix," Benedict confesses. "The... modiste."

Anthony stares at his brother.

Silence hangs over Eloise's head.

Then Anthony answers. "Good for you, brother. You deserve contentment. We all do."

Benedict and Eloise both look at Anthony with surprise and confusion.

"If the lady contributes to that, then I'm happy for you." Anthony leaves.

"Whatever is in those candies?" Benedict asks. He takes one for himself and stands to join the rest of the family.

"Your pianoforte is quite impressive," Daphne comments. Francesca smiles at her. You agree with Daphne.

"Join me, brother," Fran requests, looking at her third eldest brother.

"Yes, Colin, why not a song?" Violet smiles.

"If I must," he agrees, coming to the piano.

Francesca plays the piano as Colin sings. It's an upbeat song. Gregory and Hyacinth spin and dance while Anthony claps. You laugh softly as you watch.

The song comes to an end, and you applaud Colin for his wonderful singing.

Hyacinth returns to the duke's side to question him about his horses. Violet scolds her lightly, but Simon answers all her questions.

You smile at the sight.

Benedict is slouching in a chair nearby, and you go over to him.

"Hello."

He looks up. "Hello."

You look at him sheepishly for a moment before speaking again. "Are you well?"

"Quite well."

You sigh softly as you look down at your hands. "I've missed you."

Benedict looks at you with gentle surprise. "You have?"

You nod. "Mmhm."

He sits up a little straighter. "You appear to have been busy." He comments.

"Yes." You know to who he refers to.

"Does he make you happy?" He asks.

You nod.

Benedict lets that sit for a fresh short seconds and then inhales softly as he reaches over and settles a hand over yours. "Then I am pleased for you."

You smile at him.

"Thank you."

He removes his hand and sits back in his chair again. You at least feel like some of the air between you has cleared. Yet, he still seems a little guarded.

You say no more and enjoy the rest of the afternoon.

♡♡♡

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[positivexcellence]

Jared Padalecki teases an onscreen reunion with 'Supernatural' costar Jensen Ackles on the final season of 'The Boys'

Jared Padalecki doesn't have many details about his involvement in the fifth and final season of "The Boys," but he's teasing an onscreen reunion with "Supernatural" costar Jensen Ackles.

"I don't know a whole lot about it, which is effing terrifying," Padalecki told Business Insider's Caralynn Matassa on Thursday at the 2025 Texas Film Awards, celebrating 25 years of the Texas Film Hall of Fame.

Social media accounts for "The Boys" recently announced that Padalecki and fellow "Supernatural" star Misha Collins will appear in season five of the show. On Friday, a rep for "The Boys" confirmed to BI that Padalecki and Collins will make guest appearances, sharing scenes with Ackles.

There are no details about how Padalecki's role will fit into "The Boys," but given the show's reputation for pushing boundaries, his character's storyline could go anywhere. At the very least, Padalecki said that he'll have screentime with Ackles, even though he doesn't know what it'll entail just yet.

"Yeah," he said. "I don't know what we're doing. I don't know if we like, bump into each other. I don't know much about it. They're still trying to write and figure out who's gonna be there. But it'll be the end of this month."

It's no coincidence that more "Supernatural" alums have crossed over to Prime Video's hit superhero satire series. "The Boys" showrunner Eric Kripke also created The CW's "Supernatural," which ran for 15 seasons between 2005 and 2020 and starred Ackles and Padalecki as brothers Dean and Sam Winchester, respectively.

Ackles joined "The Boys" as the foul-mouthed, old-school superhero named Soldier Boy during season three and will be returning as a series regular for season five.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, who played patriarch John Winchester in "Supernatural," made his "Boys" debut as Joe Kessler during season four. It was inevitable that Padalecki would also appear in "The Boys."

"I know Eric Kripke very well," Padalecki said. "I know 'The Boys' very well. He's like, 'Hey, you wanna come play?' I'm like, 'Yes, I think?'"

Padaleck thanked his wife, Genevieve Padalecki, for giving him the extra push to say yes to "The Boys."

"To give credit to my wife, I was like 'Hey, I think it's gonna be a weird role. I don't know what to do,'" Padalecki recalled. "And she was like, 'You excited about it?' I was like, 'Yeah.' She goes, 'Then do it.' I was like 'OK. You wanna read it first?' She was like, 'No, if you like it, then do it.'"

"Only if you get to be in your birthday suit," Genevieve, who was on the red carpet with him, chimed in.

"I'm sweating now," Jared said. "Literally my text to Eric Kripke was like, 'Hey, if I'm getting naked, just give me like a month's notice to eat broccoli and rice and chicken breasts and all day long just sit there doing push-ups.'"

The actor also knows that his involvement in "The Boys" is exciting for fans, but he still has some nerves about it.

"It's fucking terrifying for me," he said.

Business Insider

[strayheartless]

AGS and childhood teddy bears because I said so:

Angeal: His childhood teddy bear was made by his mother. It has lopsided ears and a wonky eye and his name is “Freddy”. Angeal did not name Freddy, Angeal’s dad named Freddy and really he wouldn’t have it any other way.

As a child Angeal took Freddy pretty much everywhere with him: to the market, do the beach, the doctors office. Even, on one very horrifically memorable occasion, to a funeral…. Now Freddy sits on his night stand looking a little worse for wear but no less loved. Angeal patches up every moth eaten hole and replaces any lost stuffing. He’s got a book on his shelf about Teddy bear repairing and no one is willing to make even the tiniest bit of fun of him. Freddy, to Angeal, is as important as the Buster sword.

Except Zack doesn’t really know what happened to Freddy after he is captured. He’d managed to rescue the little bear before Shinra came in to erase Angeal’s existence but now…?

Genesis: Genesis’ childhood teddybear sits in his bedroom on his bed and gods help you if you touch it. Genesis had many toys growing up, and all of them had backstories and personalities but Gigi was special. The bear had been given to Genesis by his mother after a trip to Junon when he was three. She had been away for weeks and despite the fact that she otherwise showed little interest in him past what he wore and ate, Genesis had missed her so much he’d thrown up crying the night she left. When she came back, bear in hand Genesis had been so delighted at the unusual display of motherly love that he’d completely failed to realise the bear had not come from Junon nor had it come from his mother. In fact the little bear came from a tiny toy shop in the market place and had been bought for him by his Nanny, who had accosted Genevieve Rhapsodos in the hall muttering:

“If he thinks it’s from you he may just be soothed better when you go away again.”

It did and Genesis was never any the wiser. All anyone ever had to do to get him to shut up was hand him Gigi and he promptly curled up either with a book or to sleep. Even when he burned Gigi to a crisp in his rage over the lie that was his life, he never knew his “mother” had not been the one to buy the bear.

Sephiroth: Sephiroth did not have a childhood stuffed animal or any kind. Hojo thought them inane while Gast fretted about the germs they carried, so Sephiroth went without. He had his locket and that was all that mattered to him for a very long time until….

Seeing Freddy and Gigi, Sephiroth is hit with unimaginable envy over what could have been. The loss he feels is stupid. It was an inanimate object for Gaia’s sake! He should not be bereft at the sight of it! Except he is, and he wants his own so badly it aches.

Sephiroth has a little ritual of patting Freddy gently on the head in greeting and nodding to Gigi when he sits on his friends beds. Angeal watches him with sympathy in his gaze while Genesis watches him like a hawk around his bear. But both of them know the reason behind the gesture and never point it out.

Until one holiday Angeal hands him a little brown paper wrapped package wrapped up in red and white twine, the way the shop owners used to wrap the toys in Banora. When Seph opens it he doesn’t speak, just touches the little tiger stuffy with reverence and lets the tears fall. Like Genesis, Sephiroth is very protective of teddy (he’s not imaginative with names leave him be). No one mentions that he stays on the pillow across from Sephiroth, and nobody mentions that most mornings Sephiroth wakes with teddy pressed to his cheek and subconsciously rubs its soft fur across his top lip soothingly.

Years from now HR will throw that same tiger doll into a black bag and into a land fill in the sector seven slums. Years from now a vendor will pick it out, clean it up and sell it to a tall man with a gun for a hand and a baby strapped to his chest who just rolled into town. He wants it for the baby, his daughter, and she sleeps with it every night.

Years and Years from now that same little girl will solomnly tell that tiger to watch over her brother while her uncle Cloud looks for a cure…

Years and years form now a winged stranger in a red leather coat with spy the little Tiger sat on the whiskey shelf for “safe keeping” and no one will know how to sooth him because no one knows what’s wrong.

[cheynovak]

The Art of Teasing

Amazing request from @deanwinchestersgirl8734 : Can you write a story about a reader saying something that makes Jared blush and Jensen to tease him about it

No warnings just a fun little fanfic 😁

--

The room buzzed with excitement as fans eagerly filled the convention hall, waiting for the "Supernatural" panel to begin. The stage was set with microphones, and soon, the cheers erupted as Jared, Jensen, and Y/N walked out, waving to the enthusiastic crowd.

Y/N grinned as she settled into her chair between Jared and Jensen. "Wow, you guys are amazing!" she said, making the audience cheer louder.

The moderator started asking questions, but soon, the conversation took a turn when a fan stood up and gushed, "Jared, you’re so tall, I love you!"

Y/N, never one to let an opportunity slip, leaned closer to the mic with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh, you have no idea! He’s like a tree, try sitting next to him!"

"A very strong, very handsome tree!" Jensen added, "I mean, seriously, how does one person get all that height and all that charm? It’s unfair!"

Jared’s face turned pink as he laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, come on, guys—"

Y/N wasn’t done. "And have you seen his hands?!" she exclaimed, grabbing one of Jared’s massive hands and holding it up for the crowd to see. "Look at these! They’re huge! If you know, you know, ladies."

The audience erupted into cheers and laughter, with some fans whistling playfully. Jensen, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair, smirking as he watched Jared’s face get redder by the second.

"I mean," Y/N continued, dramatically waving Jared’s hand for emphasis, "Imagine what else they could do!"

Jared groaned, burying his face in his free hand. "Y/N, please!" he laughed, but his blush had spread to his ears.

Jensen chimed in, unable to resist. "Yeah, I think we all get it, Y/N. Jared’s basically a human-sized lumberjack with magic hands. And now, thanks to you, we all have mental images we can’t unsee."

Jensen then leaned toward his mic with a smirk. "But hey, Y/N, since you’re so fascinated by Jared’s hands, should we start taking bets on proportion? I mean, strictly for science, of course."

The audience roared with laughter, and Jared groaned louder, shaking his head. "Dude!" he protested, his face now a deep shade of red.

Y/N grinned, catching on to Jensen’s teasing. "Well, now that you mention it, would not be a fair game would it." Jared waved his hands frantically. "Nope! No! We are not continuing this conversation!"

Jensen chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "Alright, alright, I’ll stop… for now, only because I'd win that bet."

Y/N's eyes widen, "How would you know!?"

"I lived with the guys?!"

"But did you see?"

The teasing continued until the panel wrapped up, and later that night, the group met for dinner—Jared, Y/N, Jensen, and Jared’s wife, Genevieve.

As they waited for their food, Jensen leaned over to Jared, a smug look on his face. "Man, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you turn that red before. Y/N really got you good."

Jared groaned, shaking his head. "Dude, she was relentless. And the hands thing? Seriously? I’m never going to live that down."

Gen chuckled as she sipped her drink. "I have to admit, it was hilarious watching you squirm."

Jensen smirked, but there was something else behind his teasing gaze—something that only he knew. "Yeah, well… maybe it’s just because Y/N thinks so highly of you. It’s cute, really."

Jared raised an eyebrow at him. "Why do I get the feeling you enjoyed that way too much?"

"Oh, I did," Jensen said with a grin. "But mostly because it’s fun watching you try to keep up with her."

What Jared didn’t realize was that Jensen’s teasing had another layer—one that Y/N was completely oblivious to. Because while Y/N was busy making Jared blush, she had no idea that Jensen was quietly crushing on her the entire time.

Gen, however, had noticed. She had seen the way Jensen looked at Y/N when she wasn't looking, the way his smirk softened ever so slightly. With a knowing smile, she leaned forward. "You know, Y/N, maybe Jensen would want a little extra teasing from you."

Y/N blinked, looking between Gen and Jensen. "What, why?"

Jensen let out a short, nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "N-nothing!" he said quickly, but his slightly pink cheeks gave him away.

But deep down, Jensen was afraid Y/N liked Jared a little too much. His stomach twisted slightly at the thought, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "You don’t start now—" his face heating up—"get back to teasing Jared with his big dic—"

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she immediately cut him off, laughing. "Whoa! I only said he had large hands! It’s your dirty mind who made it into something else, Ackles!"

Jared choked on his drink, while Gen burst into laughter. Jensen groaned, burying his face in his hands as Y/N smirked. "Well, well, well," she teased. "Looks like someone’s been thinking about this a little too much."

Jensen grumbled. "I hate all of you."

But the twinkle in Y/N’s eyes told him she wasn’t letting this go anytime soon.

--

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[multiheadcanons]

A LITTLE EXTRA FOR THE DOLLS. HEAVY AND MEDIC GET MARRIED. HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY

heavy proposed in a very unconventional way. medic did not take it very well.

they were reading separate books, together in the hall leading to the infirmary, in silence. he slid a golden band on the side table that was between them. he didn’t speak, or make a grand statement of it, just made sure to angle it so the glint caught the doctor’s eye.

and the doctor did notice. he was not cool about it. “that’s not funny.” is all he could say. as heavy insisted, the doctor’s face notably scrunched up in a strange combination of emotions. he looked like he just got shot. but he was also bright red.

it was time to share some secrets.

medic opened up— very hesitantly— without removing his face from the book, about his prior marriage. a woman he called the love of his life. his childhood best friend, the woman who knew him better than he dares to ever know himself. genevieve. and the doctor isn’t paying any attention as heavy’s face pales.

and heavy isn’t thinking as the only thing that exits his mouth, as the doctor is genuinely baring his soul to him, talking about this brilliant woman who fundamentally shifted his view in love and marriage and life itself; the only thing heavy can think to say is “isn’t that… demo’s genevieve?”

the silence that fell in that room. the doctor stopped mid sentence and did not close his mouth. he turned, so controlled in the slow movement, to the heavy weapons guy. and stared at him, slack jawed. harder than he’s ever stared at the man before. an active craze brewed in the doctor’s eyes. heavy kept calm, hoping that if there was any time the doctor would follow suit it would be right now. and for a solid twenty seconds, he had confidence. nobody spoke, but they maintained eye contact and heavy felt he had a handle on the situation. he was so confident he was going to disarm this bomb.

he was confident until he saw the book snap shut. and they held eye contact. and then the doctor carelessly tossed the book up. that is where heavy made the mistake of breaking eye contact, and in a swift motion, medic grabbed the ring and stormed away.

heavy had officially lost control of the situation. before he moved to chase, he went for the medigun.

and the doctor was like a robot. it did not take him long to locate where the louder teammates were. he was honed in, ring grasped tightly in his hand. and him slamming the door to the common area caught their attention immediately.

he took stock of who was in the room.

scout. soldier. pyro. engineer. demo.

there’s the son of a bitch.

and frankly, demo could tell from the look in the doctor’s eyes exactly what was about to transpire and for exactly what reason. there was nothing he could do but brace for it, and maybe do him the favor of meeting him halfway. he didn’t have time for the second before the doctor had crossed the room.

maybe he could’ve told medic earlier and moved past this.

it didn’t matter, demo hit the floor before anyone had time to react. luckily, they were close enough to grab the doctor before he could really start to do damage. he didn’t fight them either, and everyone looked at demo for answers as he stumbled to his feet and shook his head.

“it’s alright; i’m alright… i had that coming. long time coming. alright, doc…” he cracked his neck, and stared at the doctor, notably sobered from the hit. “firstly: hell of an arm you got there. we need to have a chat.”

“you need to be rotting out in the desert. we do need to have a chat.” the doctor replied, calm for a man who literally walked in swinging.

“are you gonna hit me again?”

“yes.”

“…fair enough.”

and they left the room as heavy entered, medigun slung across his back.

“…am i too late?”

the team didn’t see much of demo, or the doctor for about a week, initially. and when they did, they were engaged in silent conversation, their faces set in grief. in anger. in regret and contempt and pity and ache and despair. the team watched as their faces shifted through the days to broken resignation. sometimes the team would walk by and see them both with their heads on the mess hall table, slumped against each other, the bags under their eyes evident as they caught precious seconds of sleep that they weren’t getting otherwise. they would see the men crumble out of their peripheries. their tear streaks would hit the light as they passed by and they would simply continue to walk. but cries echoed through the halls of the base for weeks. the doctor wouldn’t look at anyone, his hands remained balled into fists and his face twisted in snarls. demo wouldn’t speak to anyone, even if he was addressed first, just shook his head and continued on. it showed in battle as they caught their breath in alleyways, and as their enemies passed they would catch glimpses of them on their knees, head in their hands, and the wracked hoarse sobs were drowned by gunfire. it took months for them to begin to show signs of returning to normal. with each other. with the team.

it took a month still from normality returning on shaky legs for medic and heavy to resume their reading together. the first time was tense. talking was off the table. just the repeated tap of the doctor’s foot against the floor, getting louder and louder until it was just him slamming his foot against the ground.

“i can’t do this.”

at that point medic threw his book against the wall and stormed into the infirmary. heavy did not follow.

neither he nor that wedding band were seen again for a few days.

heavy had resigned himself to the fact that he would never see that ring again. and he had mostly resigned himself to the knowledge that if he didn’t permanently ruin his professional relationship with the doctor, they definitely weren’t together in the way that heavy wanted them to be.

he thought that until a glint caught his eye.

he gave a brief glance.

a single silver band sat on the table. large enough for his ring finger.

he closed his book. “that’s not funny. that’s not funny.”

“it’s not funny at all.” the doctor closed his book as well. “i made my decision.”

he set the book down and began to pull off his glove.

“misha. i loved genevieve. i loved her with everything i could give her. it haunted me. she haunted me, her willingness to put her life on pause to be with me and save myself from my own… shame of attraction. i couldn’t thank her enough for that. there was no display of devotion i could make, past giving her a child, to show my gratitude, and i couldn’t do that. to her, to myself, to a child.” he paused in the removal from his glove, before continuing, revealing a single golden band around his ring finger.

“then i find out she didn’t. her life never stopped. only mine did.” herbert stared at the ring around his finger, sparing a slight glance towards misha. “…i’m ready to move on. i held onto her for so long. and i’m ready to let her go.”

misha stayed quiet. he gingerly reached for the ring. he wasn’t sure it was real. but the cold metal confirmed he could believe what he was seeing. he held it in his hand. so small in comparison to his palm. so small in comparison to the scars they give each other. he stared past the ring to the scar slashed across of the life line of his palm.

he gave himself that. for his doctor.

they were already bound by blood for life.

a ring wasn’t needed, he had told himself. he’d been telling himself that for weeks now, in the certainty he had been rejected.

“i don’t want a wedding. i don’t want a honeymoon. just put it on, and we can continue to read. or give it back, and we can continue to read. either way, it’s… it’s okay. it’s alright. i’m alright. we’re alright.” misha couldn’t stop the breath of laughter. the smile that crept on his face. a ring. a ring. and he couldn’t stop a couple of tears from falling. he wiped them away quickly. it felt a little silly to cry because he got what he wanted. it took months, but he got exactly what he wanted.

“it’s… not what i expected from you. when have you ever done what i expect from you?” misha finally found words to say that made sense in his mind; sliding the ring onto his finger.

a perfect fit.

“…i want a honeymoon.”

“…we may have a honeymoon if you would like.”

misha laughed. he couldn’t help it. he looked at his hand, at its new adornment. rotated his hand. saw the glint from every angle. looked at herbert. looked back at his hand. his face felt hot, and a hand naturally reached to feel the heat. he couldn’t stop the smile from getting wider. he laughed again.

he patted the seat of the chair next to him, and held out his other hand.

“come sit next to me. properly.”

herbert’s eyes narrowed, if only slightly and for the moment. but he took a breath. he forced himself to relax. he made this decision. he needs to stick to the commitment he made.

it took many days of working, and thinking, and crying, and not sleeping to decide to say yes.

he didn’t know if he had it in him to do it again. he didn’t know if a commitment he had made, by all means at this point except traditionally, by all means felt traditionally was the right thing to do; was the best thing to do for either one of them at this point. herbert was getting older. he had held onto the ghost of a woman, held onto what he thought was love so tightly for so long, and it was shattered in less than five words. everything he thought he knew about his life was shattered in less than five words.

and herbert was no stranger to hurt. he was no stranger to misha hurting him. he was no stranger to hurting misha. physically and emotionally. they’ve fought. they argued. they’ve said things to each other they can never take back. that still hang in the air some tense days. but they’ve always made it through. come back stronger, held onto each other tighter in battle. learned each other better, maneuvered with and around each other smoother. every force against them has made them a stronger unit, closer friends, better partners.

misha completed him in undefinable ways. understood him enough to accept him fully, wholly. never asked for more than herbert said he could give. respected it. respected him. it’s obviously not a far throw to say misha loved him.

he owed the man a commitment to the grave.

he took misha’s hand and stood, closing the distance and taking his rightful place at misha’s side.

they sat, shoulder to shoulder.

hand in hand.

misha squeezed. herbert squeezed back.

they looked at each other.

spared each other uncertain smiles.

then they opened their books and continued to read.

[thebluemallet]

Eros/Psyche Parallels in Bridgerton Season 3

The show was not subtle with the Eros/Psyche parallels this season. So I attempted to go through episode by episode and find the connections. If I miss any obvious ones, let me know and I'll edit the post.

3x01- Out of the Shadows

Starting off strong with the opening credits! You briefly see a butterfly. Not only do the Featheringtons use butterflies as often as the Bridgertons use bees, but the butterfly is a symbol of Psyche.

When Penelope opens her wardrobe to that sea of YELLOW, her butterfly dress from the first ball of season 1 is visible.

Penelope talks with Genevieve about needing to find a husband this season and then we cut directly to Gregory with a bow (sans arrow) and he's pointing it directly at Colin. The bow and arrow is a symbol of Eros/Cupid.

Penelope sheds her cloak at that ball like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.

The original Eros/Psyche myth has some jealous sisters and Prudence and Philippa, while maybe not jealous per se, are not happy to see their baby sister shining so brightly when she arrives.

And for more connection to the sisters--Psyche is the youngest of three daughters and her two older sisters are married before she is.

This one is, admittedly, a bit of a stretch but in the original myth there's some ire from Aphrodite because of all the attention Psyche is getting. And Cressida rips Penelope's dress once she is getting all the attention at the ball, specifically from Lord Debling.

Eros is sent by Aphrodite in the original story to marry Psyche off to marry someone/thing horrible (or just making sure no man wants to marry her) but Eros ends up falling for Psyche himself. Colin offers to help Penelope find a husband as a way to make up for what he said about her last year and, well, we all know where this is going!

3x02- How Bright The Moon

Edited to add (credit to @bridgertonblue)- Colin cuts his hand on the glass in the study. They flashback to this scene a few episodes later when Colin finally decides to take action with Penelope and his feelings for her. This can be a parallel to Eros getting struck with his own arrows and falling for Psyche.

Eros only visits Psyche at night. Colin comes to see Penelope at night in the garden after their scheme is exposed.

Eros accidentally struck himself with his own arrows and that's how he came to fall in love with Psyche. Colin kissed Penelope because he thought he was doing it for a friend, and he ended up awakening feelings he didn't even realize he had for her.

3x03- Forces of Nature

In the Architectural Digest Bridgerton Set Tour video, you'll see butterflies on the staircase in the entrance hall of Featherington House. It's not exclusive to this episode, I just thought I'd highlight it here since it's when we have the Eloise apology scene.

THIS ONE IS A HUGE STRETCH BUT I'LL PUT IT IN HERE ANYWAY--remember how windy it was with the balloon and Colin's arms that Penelope couldn't stop drooling over? Psyche was carried by Zephyrus-the West Wind-to her fancy new home and the godly husband she never sees.

3x04- Old Friends

Eros is tasked with marrying Psyche off, falls in love with her, and marries her instead. Colin offers to help Penelope find a husband earlier in the season, realizes he's been in love with her this whole time, and we get the iconic line, "For God's sake, Penelope Featherington! Are you going to marry me or not?"

3x05- Tick Tock

This one is another stretch, but Psyche has some jealous sisters who are not permitted to visit her at her new home (until Psyche convinces her husband to let them visit many months later). Prudence and Phillipa are being mean to Penelope over her engagement and Portia doesn't allow them to attend the engagement party. A Bridgerton engagement party, so you know that stings.

And another stretch! Psyche gets pressured by her sisters to find out her husband's true identity. Penelope gets pressured by Eloise to reveal her secret identity to Colin.

3x06- Romancing Mr. Bridgerton

Eros tells Psyche that she can never know what she looks like, which is why he only visits at night. If Psyche knows who her husband is, then eventually Aphrodite will find out and she'll be pissed. But Psyche, filled with doubt thanks to her jealous sisters, lights a candle while Eros is asleep, revealing his identity and betraying Eros.

Penelope writes/delivers her Whistledown column at night. Colin follows after her, discovers her secret identity, and feels betrayed.

3x07- The Joining of Hands

Eros leaves Psyche, feeling betrayed even though he still loves her deeply. Colin is cold and distant to Penelope in the fresh sting of his betrayal. But he still loves her and goes through with the wedding.

3x08- "Into the Light"

Eros refuses to see Psyche because he's been so hurt by her betrayal. Colin sleeps ten feet away from his wife's bedroom door (they must have had other bedrooms!) and leaves soon after she wakes up in episode 8.

Psyche has to go through some trials put forth by Aphrodite to get a chance to see her husband again. Penelope is confronted and blackmailed by Cressida when the latter learns that she is Lady Whistledown.

Psyche approaches two different goddesses to help her find Eros. Sometimes they refuse to help. Sometimes one of them points her in the direction of Aphrodite's place. Those two goddesses are Hera and Demeter. Two members of the most unlikely dream team in this episode are Portia and Eloise.

Hera is the goddess of marriage, women, and family, and she doesn't have the reputation of being an upstanding mother in mythology. She parallels Portia, mother to three ladies who she wants to see in secure marriages.

Demeter is the goddess of the harvest and agriculture. This is more of a reach, but she can parallel Eloise. In her book, her love interest Sir Phillip is experimenting in his greenhouse with peas(?) (I should probably read that book again) to increase their yield. Eloise also initially refused to get in between Penelope and Colin in the previous episode.

When Psyche goes through these trials, she's pregnant with Eros's baby. The showrunners confirmed that Colin knocked up Penelope in that mirror scene so she's in the very early stages of pregnancy here.

Psyche is indirectly helped by Eros (Zeus's eagle helps her out when they remember they owe Eros a favor). This angers Aphrodite and makes things worse for Psyche. Colin tries to save his wife by appealing to Cressida and ends up making things worse for Penelope.

Psyche's final trial involves going to the underworld. She deems this an impossible task and intends to sacrifice herself before she finds another way. Penelope decides to reveal her identity to the Queen and the ton, effectively sacrificing her reputation and potentially her marriage.

Zeus listens to Eros's pleas and grants Psyche immortality. The Queen is merciful to Penelope and doesn't punish her for Whistledown, allowing her to keep writing.

Psyche is often depicted either with butterfly wings or with a butterfly near/around her in art. Mrs. Varley releases the bugs (butterflies) directly after the Whistledown reveal.

Eros and Psyche are reunited and live a rare Happily Ever After in mythology. Penelope and Colin reconcile and go on to their own Happily Ever After.

[nomie-11]

Chapter 10 - Shifting Tides

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“Soo, Sawyer, huh, Rhi?” Violet starts as the three of them walk down their new dorm. First year dorms may be the smallest private dorms on campus, but damn, all Genevieve could think was that was the best night sleep of her life. 

“I felt like celebrating,” She said, and Genevieve whistled. 

“You didn’t think to ask me first?” She says, her words light as a small smile comes on her face. 

“You have enough on your plate, sex wise,” Rhiannon said, teasing Genevieve. “And why have I not heard of you celebrating?”  She asks Violet. “Ridoc definitely has a thing for you, not emotionally just physically, and Liam has a thing for you emotionally.” 

“Liam? Liam Mairi? You’re insane.” Violet says, waving her off. “And either way, if he wants to celebrate with me, he’s going to have to ask first.” 

Genevieve and Rhiannon laugh, and she giggles too, a blush on her cheeks. 

“Good morning, Ladies.” Ridoc says, forcing his way through the crowd and slinging an arm around their shoulders as they enter the dining hall. “Or should I say, riders.”

“I like the sound of riders,” Rhiannon replies, shooting a smile in his direction. 

“It has a certain ring to it,” Ridoc agrees. 

“It definitely sounds better than dead.” Genevieve says, her voice serious but the tone implicates a tease. 

“Where’s your relic?” Violet asks, used to ignoring the awful offhand comments Genevieve makes. 

“Right here,” He says, his arm falling off of their shoulders as he rolls his sleeve of his tunic up to reveal the brown silhouette of a dragon on his upper arm. “You?” 

“Can’t see it. It’s on my back.” Ridoc whistles, and he spins to face Rhiannon. 

“And you? What about yours, Rhi?” 

“Somewhere you’ll never see,” She responds, and he laughs. 

“You wound me.” He slaps a hand over his heart. 

“I highly doubt that,” she retorts, but there's a smile on her face. The group moves through the hall into the line for breakfast. 

“And Genevieve?” He asks Rhiannon, completely bypassing asking Genevieve who he knows isn’t paying attention. 

“On her back,” Rhiannon says. “It’s crazy looking. Her rebellion relic mixes with her dragon relic. It’s insane.” 

As they make their way through the line, Genevieve’s mind is elsewhere. It feels as if the energy in the dining hall has shifted. It’s different now. 

“Asshole,” Ridoc mutters in a context Genevieve hasn’t heard. “I still can’t believe they tried to kill you.” 

“I can,” Violet shrugged, taking her chances with a maybe poisoned mug of apple juice. “I’m the weakest link, right? Unfortunately for me, that means people are bound to try and take me out of the wing.” 

“I don’t even know what you’re saying, but they’d have to kill me first,” Genevieve says, taking a bite out of her own apple. As they walk to the fourth wing section of the cafeteria, they find a table and only three extra seats. 

“Mind if we—” Ridoc starts. 

“Absolutely! It’s yours!” A couple of guys from Tail Section scurry off the bench. 

“Sorry, Hale!” The other says over his shoulder as they find another table. 

What the fuck?

“Well, that was really fucking weird.” Rhiannon rounds the other side of the table, and Genevieve sits on the other side as Violet follows. 

“Even weirder?” Ridoc remarks, gesturing across the hall toward First Wing. 

The girls follow his line of sight, and their eyebrows lift. Jack Barlowe is being squeezed out of his table. He’s forced to stand as others take a seat. 

“What the hell is going on?” Rhiannon bites into a pear and chews. Jack moves again, and then again.

”Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” Ridoc notes, watching the same show they all are. There’s no satisfaction in their view, everyone knows feral dogs bite harder when they’re cornered. 

“Hey, Hale,” the stocky girl from First Wing I beat in my second challenge says with a tight smile as she walks past our table. 

“Hey,” she says, nodding her head, but then she turns to face Rhiannon. “That girl hasn’t spoken one word to me since I threatened her hair when she beat up Violet.”

“It’s because you bonded Tairn.” Imogen blows her pink hair out of her face and throws her leg over the bench. She sits, pushing the sleeves up from her tunic. “The morning after Threshing is always a clusterfuck. Power balance shifts, and you, little Hale, are now the most powerful rider in the quadrant. If they weren’t scared before they’re definitely scared now.” 

She blinks, her pulse elevating. Is that what is going on? Social groups have split, but it still doesn’t make sense-

“Which is why you’re sitting with us now?” Rhiannon arches a brow at the second-year. “Because I can count on one hand the number of nice words you’ve said to any of us.” She holds up a fist with zero fingers raised. 

Genevieve glances around the table, to the seconds years, Quinn and Imogen, and to Sawyer who has finally arrived. Imogen is cool and Quinn is cool as well, but this was strange. Genevieve’s eyes glance at the patches on their jackets, but she doesn’t know what any of it means. She knows that her patches mean Flame Section, Fourth Wing, First Year, and now also Iron Squad. 

“You weren’t interesting enough to sit with before, and now you’ve survived Threshing, so you’re worth it.” Imogen responds as she bites into a muffin. Suddenly the third years in their section sit down too, and Genevieve almost chokes on the apple she’s been nursing the entirety of breakfast. 

“My dragon is not that cool, if that's what you’re looking for,” She says, biting her tongue from saying anything mean. 

“I take immediate offense to that,” Tairn huffs. “Now eat something more than an apple and get over your fear that Oren has poisoned you.” 

“I’m not eating the food on my plate,” Genevieve counters. “It’s definitely poisoned.” 

“We aren’t looking for your dragon,” Imogen says, her voice strong. “We’re looking for you, because now you’re under our watch. Now eat your food.”

Genevieve looks bewildered, but she doesn’t say a single thing. 

“You’re the Iron Squad, and you and Violet both have some crazy dragons on your tail. That means eyes are on you from every direction. A huge red target is painted on your back.” Her voice is low, but it cuts through the clamor of the hall. “And whether you like it or not, this balance isn’t going to change any time soon, so get used to it.” 

Genevieve glances at Rhiannon, confusion evident on her face. 

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here, though.” She says, her words biting and strong. 

“Oh, Xaden didn’t tell you?” She says, a sly smile on her face. “Tairn and Sgaeyl are mated, so even though your relic isn’t on your arm, you’re one of us now.”

“Oh shit,” Ridoc whispers, and Violet nods her head in agreement. 

“You’re in our squad now.” 

—————————————-

Violet had explained to Genevieve that mated dragons aren’t common, not even by a long shot, and to let mated dragons bond riders in different years was unheard of, but dragons do what dragons want, as exemplified by Violet. 

She explained that Xaden and Genevieve themselves are now binded, their lives intertwined in some sick curse that ties their fate with a little red string. When one dies, the other dies, when one gets hurt, the other feels it, when one feels another strong emotion, the other feels the emotion. She was never alone with Tairn now, but not only was Tairn in her head, Xaden was too. 

“Stop thinking so hard and get on my back, we have maneuvers to master,” Tairn grumbled, his voice low. She mounted his back, and found her seat easily. 

“Were you planning on telling me? That you and Sgaeyl were mated?” She asked over the bond, her mind distracted from her actions. 

“Sgaeyl had assured me that the wingleader would tell you, and that I shouldn’t worry about it,” He said, his tone grumpy like it usually was. “I see now that he did not, and I should stop trusting that wingleader.” 

“You don’t like Xaden?” She asked, as they took off, following second behind Professor Kaori, who Tairn had said he would only follow because he was Genevieve’s professor. 

“I don’t like the boy,” Tairn huffed. “But Sgaeyl loves him, so I won’t char him. Maybe I’ll lightly toast him.” 

“You shouldn’t set him on fire anyways, he’s an asset,” She said quickly, ignoring the blush rising on her cheeks. Genevieve cast another glance down at Violet, a few dragons back. Andarna didn’t come, Violet flew on Astrape alone.  “What’s the deal with Violet and Astrape?” Genevieve asked, quickly diverting the conversation away from Xaden and onto Violet. “She looks like she can’t hold her seat.” 

“She can’t,” Tairn replies, banking left, following Kaori into the canyons. “Astrape is one of the strongest dragons in the vale, maybe third to Codagh and I. Her powers are keeping Violet in that seat.” 

“Shouldn’t she be saving her powers, for…” Genevieve trailed off, not knowing how to verbalize what she wanted to say. “…combat?”

“Stop asking meaningless questions,” Tairn huffed, his annoyance evident in every word that was communicated in their bond. “Astrape has more power in her than most other dragons could even imagine having. She will be fine.” 

And Genevieve nodded, who was she to argue with a dragon, an all-mighty, all-knowing being. The dragon that had chosen her. She was not one to argue. Her grip tightened on Tairn’s back as the cool rush of wind from the canyon blew against her hot skin. She knew better than to press Tairn when he was already somewhat irritated, but she wanted to know how Violet was keeping her seat. 

As they neared the sharp turns of the canyon, Genevieve let the questions go, her focus snapping to the task at hand. Flight training was brutal, she couldn’t afford a lapse in concentration. Train’s powerful wings sliced through the air as they banked hard left, narrowly avoiding the jagged cliffs that seemed to rise out of nowhere. Kaori’s dragon led the pack, weaving through the narrow paths with ease. She could sense Tairn’s irritation at following anyone, but for some reason, it felt as if he cared enough about her to swallow his pride. 

Behind her, the presence of a struggling Violet claws at her mind. 

Be quiet, Geneiveve, She chastised herself. Violet is your friend. She’s trying. Be nice. 

“I didn’t know nice was in your vocabulary,” Train huffed. “Now focus.” 

“I am!” She shot back, adjusting her posture as they approached a narrow pass. The jagged rocks below glinted dangerously in the sunlight, promising death to anyone who made the wrong move. 

As they passed the gap, her eyes flicked back to Violet, who was struggling more visibly now. Astrape’s wings beat with precise power, but there was something off about the way Violet held herself in the saddle. She was slipping, her body tense and rigid, as if each move was a desperate attempt to stay upright. Geneiveve knew that look–the look of someone who was fighting for control, not just over their dragon, but over themselves. 

“She’s going to fall,” Genevieve muttered over the bond, her heart skipping a beat. 

“She won’t,” Train replied, his voice steady but cold. “Astrape won’t let her.” 

Kaori signaled the next maneuver–a sharp dive into a winding ravine, followed by an immediate ascent. Genevieve could feel the pressure in her chest as Tairn obeyed, plunging toward the ground with a terrifying speed that left her stomach in knots. 

As they pulled up, her breath caught in her throat as Tairn shot off. He was so fast. The wind in her hair was so freeing. 

“You ready?” Train asked, his voice taking on a sharper edge. 

“Always.”

With a swift movement, they dove into the loops, Train’s wings angling perfectly to guide them through the tight spaces. Genevieve felt every shift, every beat in sync with her movements. They were seamless, an extension of each other. The world blurred around her as they cut through the air, the adrenaline pumping through her veins. 

But out of the corner of her eye, she saw something. Violet, behind her, struggling more than ever. Astrape’s wings fell, just for a split second, and Genevieve knew–knew deep in her heart–that Violet wasn’t going to make it through the next turn.

“Violet!” She shouted, the sound swallowed by the rush of wind, her heart lurching. 

She felt the tug of the bond, Xaden’s awareness surging into her thoughts. He felt it too, the fear, the instinct to protect. But Genevieve couldn’t let herself be distracted by that–by him. 

“Leave it!” Train barked, sensing her instinct to intervene. 

Genevieve hesitated, her grip tightening as the next loop approached. She had to make a decision. Focus on the maneuver, or–

Astrape dipped down, grabbing Violet with her claws and tossing her back into her seat. 

“Thank the gods,” Genevieve whispered, her own heart racing as if she was the one who fell. 

“Look at you, you have emotions!” Train laughed. 

“Oh, shut up!”

—————————————

“Were you planning on-” her shin came into contact with the punching bag she was using. “never telling me that our dragons are mated?” 

Xaden’s eyes were dead set onto her body under the guise of watching her train. Garrick, Bodhi, Imogen, Liam, and a few other rebellion kids were in the gym. As Genevieve’s eyes cast over the room, her eyes narrowed on Violet. 

“And why is Imogen training Violet?” Her other leg made contact strongly, but she was distracted, so she stumbled back. 

“I was going to tell you, I was just waiting for…” he trailed off, his words lost on an already angry Genevieve. 

“No you weren’t. You were going to wait for me to ask like always,” she snapped. Her eyes held so much rage, Xaden could feel the flames of anger engulfing him. “Did you manipulate Threshing?” Her voice was a dangerous whisper. “Did you tell Sgaeyl to bond me so we would be linked together?”

“Of course not!” He immediately responded. “This is the worst case scenario, I do not want to be linked to you.”

Genevieve’s expression narrowed, her body going rigid with tension. Her expression darkened as she took a step closer to Xaden, the sheen of her sweat glistening under the mage lights, but her focus was far from the physical exertion of training. “Worst case scenario?” She repeated, her words venomous. “So being bound to me is so repulsive that it’s your worst case scenario?”

Xaden ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenching with tension as the weight of his own words sank in. 

“Gen, that’s not what I meant and you know it,” his voice softened, trying to ease the fire that radiated off of Genevieve. “This bond just complicates things—everything. You know that.”

She scoffed, eyes flicking between him and the rest of the room. The rebellion kids continued their sparring, laughter mingling with the sharp sound of fists hitting targets, completely unaware of the storm brewing between them. Violet had slowed her movements, however, casting a glance in their direction. It only fueled Genevieve’s resentment.

Genevieve’s fingers curled into fists, her knuckles whitening with the force of her anger. She took another deliberate step toward Xaden, her voice low and cutting, barely concealing the fury beneath the surface. “Complicates things for you, you mean.” Her eyes narrowed further, the tension in her muscles betraying her desire to his something—maybe even someone. “Because Gods forbid you have to deal with the consequences of anything outside your control.”

Xaden’s jaw tensed as he fought to keep his composure, but Genevieve’s words hit home. He’d always prided himself on control—of his dragon, his squad, his emotions—and now, it was unraveling. Genevieve, with her endless need for vengeance, her relentless drive, and now their unwanted bond, was the epicenter of that chaos. She was the reason. 

“I didn’t choose this,” he said firmly, his voice edged with frustration. “Do you think I wanted Tairn to bond with you? This is as much of a shock to me as it is to you.” His faze flickered away briefly, landing on Violet again, who had now fully paused her training to watch. That momentary distraction only inflamed Genevieve’s temper further. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. She advanced again, her proximity forcing Xaden to meet her eyes. “This isn’t about the bond alone. This is about trust. This is about the fact that you kept this from me. That you decided what I should or shouldn’t know, like you always do.” 

Xaden’s face hardened. “I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. I was trying to figure out the details of it, how to handle it before—”

“Before what?” Genevieve’s voice rose now, drawing the attention of the others in the gym. Xaden’s group of friends in the training gym paused, sensing the rising tensions. “Before you thought it was convenient to share? Or were you hoping I wouldn’t notice the massive life-altering detail until it was too late for me to get angry?” 

Liam, sensing the explosive energy in the room, began walking toward them, his easy grin faltering, but Garrick held him back, shaking his head with an easy ‘no’. Imogen and Bodhi exchanged glances, but they stayed in place. Violet’s eyes lingered, her posture tense, though she hadn’t moved. 

Xaden stepped closer to Genevieve now, his voice lowered but charged with intensity. “I was waiting until I could tell you in a way that didn’t—”

“Make you look like the selfish bastard you are?” Genevieve interjected harshly, her words hitting with the force of a blow. Her body was shaking, but not from the fatigue. It was from the rage she’d been suppressing since Imogen told her news that Xaden should have said in private. Since she’d realized that Xaden, despite everything they’d shared, still decided to withhold something so vital. 

He flinched, a flash of regret crossing his face, but he didn’t retreat. “You know that’s not true,” he said quickly, but with conviction. “You know I never wanted this, but I didn’t want to make it worse either.”

”Worse?” Genevieve spat, her eyes blazing. “There is no ‘worse,’ Xaden. They’re dragons that bind our fate down to our own deaths and you let Imogen, someone who is practically a stranger, tell me? Instead of facing it and telling me you ran. You ran from me, from this, from everything.” 

For a moment, the silence between them was deafening. The others in the gym held their breaths, waiting for the explosion. Genevieve’s breaths came in ragged gasps as she glared at him, waiting for him to say something—anything—that would justify his actions. But Xaden remained still, his expression unreadable as he weighed his next words carefully. 

“I didn’t run,” he said finally, his voice like a storm on the horizon—low, dark, and gathering strength. “I’m here, aren’t I? Fighting for us, for whatever the hell this bond means.” 

Genevieve’s gaze hardened further, but something flickered beneath her fury. His words had struck a chord, and for a brief second, she felt the weight of his own burdens, his fears. But it wasn’t enough to douse the fire inside her. 

“And yet,” she whispered, stepping back, the space between them feeling like a chasm, “you keep pushing me away. Every time I get close, every time there’s a chance for something between us that isn’t just physical, you shut down. You keep your secrets, your plans, and now even this from me.”

The gym was still now, the air thick with unspoken tension. Everyone was watching, waiting for the next move. But Genevieve didn’t care. She was done playing his games, done being a pawn in a world of half-truths and manipulations. 

“Maybe being bound to you really is the worst-case scenario,” she said bitterly, her voice cold as ice. “Because I don’t think I can trust you anymore.”

The mage light above her blew out in a craze of sparks and glitter, and it felt like her skin was on fire with… magic. 

“Day one of dragon bonds,” Imogen started, awe laced into the sarcasm she normally carried. 

“And Genevieve is already channeling.” Violet finished. 

And with that, she turned on her heel, leaving the gym and a stunned silence in her wake, her anger radiating like heat off her skin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello everyone! What’s up? I’ve currently written a few chapters ahead so I can keep updating twice a week for at least a few weeks, so hopefully this new schedule makes you all happy!

On another note, I just wanted to say thank you for all of your words of appreciation and your compliments, I seriously cannot believe you guys actually read what I write and for you to tell me how much you love it makes me so happy I want to cry.

Please, like and comment if you enjoyed and please let me know your thoughts! What’re your predictions on her signet? I want to know~

[cosmicaura7]

THE DANCING PRINCESS AND HER SELLSWORD

Pairings : pedro pascal (pero tovar) x genevieve!reader

Genre : f/m, AU : Use of Y/N for reader, last name is Lovelei, inspired by/based on Genevieve from Barbie : 12 Dancing Princesses, said to have hair, overwhelming amount of fluff, Pero being soft, slow burn romance? princess x bodyguard au

Synopsis : In where two mercenaries find themselves hired to guard 12 princesses.

Word Count : 23.6k (wow, my longest fic yet!)

Taglist : none yet

Moodboard :

-----

The massive gates of the Lovelei castle creaked open, revealing a path that led through neatly trimmed hedges, a long stone driveway that wound up toward the grandeur of the castle itself. The moment Pero Tovar and William Garin dismounted their horses, they were greeted by several attendants who guided them into the heart of the kingdom.

Pero’s eyes scanned the castle grounds with a professional sharpness; he had been to his fair share of noble homes, but the Lovelei estate seemed almost otherworldly in its splendor. Tall spires reached toward the heavens, and ornate banners fluttered in the wind, adorned with a symbol that only the most refined could recognize, the crest of House Lovelei. This was a kingdom of great importance.

William, ever the observant one, looked just as impressed, though he kept his usual reserved demeanor. “Quite the place.” He muttered to Pero.

“More than just a castle, it’s the home of royalty.” Pero replied quietly, his gaze never straying from their surroundings.

When they reached the castle's front steps, a servant dressed in fine silks greeted them with a deep bow. “Welcome to Lovelei Castle, sirs. His Majesty, King Randolph Lovelei, is expecting you.”

The men nodded in return, following the servant inside where the scent of fresh roses lingered in the air. The walls were lined with portraits of past kings, queens, and noble families, each framed in golden relief. Everything in the castle spoke of wealth, power, and history. Pero couldn't help but feel the weight of the moment. As they entered a large hall, they were ushered to a throne room where King Randolph Lovelei sat upon a grand golden throne, his crown a testament to his status. His regal figure was imposing, yet there was a warmth in his presence that made him approachable. His eyes, a piercing shade of gray, softened as he looked up at his new bodyguards, his lips curling into a welcoming smile.

“Ah, gentlemen, welcome to my kingdom.” King Randolph said with a voice that was deep and resonant, his tone carrying both authority and kindness. “It is an honor to have you here. Please, come forward.”

Pero and William both bowed, but it was the Spaniard who spoke first, ever the more direct of the two. “Your Majesty, it is a privilege to be in your presence. We are here to serve and protect, as you requested.”

King Randolph stood from his throne, his tall figure commanding the room. “I trust the journey was not too taxing?”

“Not at all.” William replied, his usual calmness punctuating his words. “The ride was long, but we’ve been on longer.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. You’ll find the castle’s accommodations more than suitable for the both of you.” The king gestured to two ornate chairs nearby, allowing them to sit. “I understand you’re here to guard my daughters. Twelve of them, in fact.”

“Twelve?” Pero asked, his brow raising in surprise as he glanced toward William. He had heard of large families, but twelve daughters? That was something he hadn’t expected.

King Randolph chuckled at their expressions. “Yes, twelve. Not all are here today, mind you. But each one has their own strengths and personality. It’s a challenge, but one I take great pride in.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “As you might imagine, it’s not easy keeping them all safe, especially with the number of suitors and... shall we say, unsavory individuals who tend to seek their attention.”

William nodded, his serious gaze shifting slightly as he processed the situation. “It must be an interesting dynamic, with so many daughters.”

“The word 'interesting' is an understatement.” King Randolph said with a hint of laughter in his voice. “Each of them is as different as the next. Some are quiet and reserved, others are bold and adventurous. Some prefer the peace of the garden; others, the thrill of a sword fight. You’ll need to be prepared for anything.”

Pero leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “It sounds like quite the task, Your Majesty. But if there’s one thing we do well, it’s managing challenges.”

“You’ll find my daughters are not easily impressed.” The king warned, though his smile never wavered. “But they are loyal and fiercely protective of each other. The job will be no less difficult than it is rewarding.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.” Pero said with a firm nod. “We’ll do our duty to ensure their safety.”

“But there is one thing you should know.” King Randolph continued, his voice softening slightly as if imparting something important. “While they are capable in their own right, some are also... young. The world outside these walls is dangerous, and I trust you will be there for them, not just as protectors but as mentors. They’ll need guidance and protection..”

“We’ll make sure to keep her safe, Your Majesty.” The Spaniard assured him, his tone serious and firm. "All of them."

The king nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. “Good. I trust you both will be up to the task. You’ll find your rooms prepared. Take the evening to settle in. Tomorrow, we’ll have a feast in your honor, and you’ll meet my daughters in person.”

As Pero and William stood to leave, Pero’s thoughts lingered on their new jobs as bodyguards to 12 royal princesses. After all, protecting royalty was never as simple as it seemed, especially when that royalty had a mind of her own. And as they made their way down the grand corridors, the Spaniard felt a sense of anticipation stir within him. 

This was only the beginning.

-----

The next morning, the sun shone brightly over the Lovelei castle, casting a golden glow across its vast gardens. The air carried the scent of fresh roses and lavender, a soft breeze rustling the leaves of the grand oaks that lined the pathways. Birds chirped cheerfully, and in the distance, the faint laughter of young women filled the air.

King Randolph stood at the castle’s entrance, awaiting Pero Tovar and William Garin as they approached. Dressed in their usual travel-worn attire, the two men carried themselves with their usual guarded confidence. Pero, ever the skeptic, had spent the morning wondering what exactly they had signed up for. William, more composed, was simply taking things as they came.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” The king kindly greeted, his deep voice warm. “I trust you slept well?”

“Well enough.” William answered politely.

Pero gave a short nod. “No complaints.”

“Good.” The king said with a small chuckle. “You will need your energy. Today, you will meet my daughters.”

At that, Pero shot William a glance. Though they had been warned about the number the night before, the reality of it still hadn’t quite sunk in. Twelve princesses. Twelve young noblewomen who, if they were anything like the highborn ladies Pero had encountered before, would be more trouble than any army. The Spaniard was no stranger to difficult jobs, to the presence of royals and their delicate ways, but he had never been tasked with protecting twelve princesses at once. Twelve. He glanced at William Garin, who stood beside him with his usual stoic expression, arms crossed over his chest.

"This is madness." Pero muttered under his breath. "How are we supposed to guard twelve of them?"

William merely smirked. "You wanted a job that pays well, didn’t you?"

Pero grunted, adjusting the belt of his sword. He had fought off hordes of enemies in his lifetime, bandits, mercenaries, soldiers, even monstrous creatures, but the idea of keeping twelve noblewomen out of trouble seemed an even greater challenge.

“Come.” The king said, gesturing for them to follow. “They are in the gardens.”

The three men walked through the grand hallways of the castle, down spiral staircases, past sunlit corridors, and through tall double doors that led outside. The castle gardens stretched far beyond what Pero and William had imagined, lush green lawns, carefully sculpted hedges, and a massive stone fountain in the center. Vibrant flowers in every shade of pink, purple, and gold bloomed along the pathways. It was a place of beauty, untouched by war, unspoiled by the world outside.

The duo mercenaries barely had a moment to take in the scenery before they spotted them, the princesses.

Scattered throughout the garden, a group of young women, each dressed in elegant yet light gowns, were engaged in various activities. Some sat beneath the shade of the trees, reading books. Others picked flowers, weaving them into delicate crowns. A few played sports as they competitively tried to win over one another. One girl with auburn curls was perched atop the fountain’s edge, kicking her feet idly in the water while humming a soft tune. Another, a brunette with an inquisitive gaze, was deeply focused on a chessboard set on a marble table.

And then, in the center of it all, was her.

Princess Y/N Lovelei.

Pero didn’t know who she was at first, at least, not until he noticed how the other girls seemed to follow her lead, how they gravitated toward her even as they went about their activities. She was different from the rest, somehow. Her long hair, intricately braided with dark pink ribbons, shimmered in the sunlight. Her gentle soft eyes held a quiet confidence, an unspoken strength. She was dressed in a flowing pink and white gown, elegant yet practical for movement. And at that moment, she was moving.

Dancing.

With effortless grace, the eldest princess twirled across the garden’s stone path, her steps light as air, her gown flowing with each spin. Every movement was precise, calculated, and yet utterly free. She wasn’t performing for an audience; she was lost in the music of the moment, in the joy of simply moving. The way she carried herself, the effortless elegance in each movement, was enough to hold anyone’s gaze. But Pero saw more than beauty, he saw precision, control, and discipline.

As if sensing their presence, the princess stopped mid-spin, her sweet gentle eyes locking onto the newest arrivals at the garden with an assessing gaze. “Father!” She called, her voice light and warm. She quickly made her way over, her steps quick but graceful. The other princesses, noticing her approach, turned their attention toward the new arrivals as well, whispering amongst themselves.

King Randolph extended a hand toward Pero and William. “My daughters, come meet your new bodyguards.”

Y/N stopped in front of them first, her gaze immediately locking onto the mercenaries. She tilted her head slightly, studying them with an appraising look before offering a polite curtsy. “You must be the new bodyguards. It is a pleasure to meet both of you. I hope our kingdom is to your liking.” She said, a teasing lilt in her voice. By now, the rest of the princesses had gathered around. They ranged in ages and temperaments, each one bringing a unique energy to the group.

King Randolph took a step forward. “Girls, these are Pero Tovar and William Garin. They are highly skilled warriors and have agreed to serve as your protectors.”

A blonde girl, probably one of the youngest, peered up at Pero with curious gentle eyes. “Are you a knight?”

“No.” Pero replied bluntly. “I’m a soldier.”

The girl blinked, then turned to her eldest whisper before cupping her hands on the sides of her mouth to whisper to her. “I like him. He’s honest.”

The eldest princess laughed softly before returning her attention to Pero. “I hope you’re ready for a challenge.”

Pero raised a brow. “I was about to say the same to you.”

The air between them crackled with something unspoken, curiosity, intrigue, perhaps even the first sparks of a battle neither had yet realized they were about to fight. King Randolph, pleased by the interaction, clapped his hands together. “Good. Now that you’ve all been introduced, I’ll leave you to get acquainted. Pero, William, do try to keep up. These girls are not as fragile as they seem.”

With that, the king strode away, leaving the two men standing among a sea of princesses, each one more unpredictable than the last.

Pero exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Twelve daughters.” He muttered under his breath.

William smirked. “Told you it’d be interesting.”

Princess Y/N grinned. “Welcome to our world, gentlemen.”

And with that, the real challenge began.

-----

The gardens of Castle Lovelei were a sight to behold, sprawling fields of roses, lavender, and lilies stretching out under the warm afternoon sun. Ivy climbed along the stone archways, weaving between marble statues of noble ancestors long past. The air carried the fragrance of blooming flowers, mixed with the gentle spray of water from the great fountain in the center.

Pero Tovar stood at the edge of the garden, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the area. William Garin stood beside him, leaning against a tree with his usual calm demeanor, his gaze flickering over the twelve princesses scattered about.

The younger ones giggled as they played a game of tag through the flowerbeds. The older ones sat in the shaded pavilion, chattering and laughing over tea. But it was Princess Y/N who caught Pero’s attention. Again. 

She was by the fountain, completely unaware of his gaze.

With the lightest of steps, she moved in a slow, graceful ballet, her dark pink gown flowing around her like water. Her hair, braided neatly with ribbons, swayed as she twirled, her gentle eyes focused ahead, lost in a world of her own.

Pero wasn’t one to appreciate dance, but something about the way she moved was different. There was precision in her steps, control in the way she lifted herself onto her toes, then landed without a sound. It was like watching a battle fought without swords, a display of power hidden beneath elegance.

At her feet, three of her youngest sisters, the triplets, watched in awe. Dressed in matching pastel gowns, they attempted to copy their eldest sister’s movements, their small feet stumbling as they tried to twirl like her.

"Like this!" One of them chirped, lifting her arms in an arch above her head.

"No, no! She bends her knees first before spinning!" Another triplet corrected.

Y/N paused mid-step, turning to watch them with a fond smile. She knelt, adjusting one of their postures, guiding them with a gentle hand. "You're close." She encouraged them. "But don’t rush the movement. Feel the rhythm, like the wind moving through the trees."

The girls nodded eagerly, their tiny faces filled with determination as they tried again.

Pero exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

"What's wrong?" William asked, following his gaze.

"She’s too free-spirited." Pero muttered. "Dancing in the open like that, she doesn’t even think about the dangers."

William chuckled. "You see a threat everywhere, my friend. She’s just enjoying herself."

Pero grunted but didn’t look away. His job was to guard them, but why did his eyes keep returning to Y/N alone?

She turned then, catching his gaze.

For a moment, neither of them looked away. Her lips curled slightly, as if she knew he had been watching all along. Then, in a movement as effortless as the breeze, she extended her hand toward him in invitation.

"Would you like to dance, Master Tovar?"

Pero’s brows shot up. "What?"

William laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. "Go on. Show us your skill."

Pero scoffed. "I don’t dance."

The eldest princess tilted her head, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I can teach you."

Pero narrowed his eyes. "I’d rather fight a hundred men than let you teach me to prance around like a fool."

Y/N only giggled, undeterred. "A shame. I think you’d be quite good at it."

Pero grumbled something in Spanish under his breath as she twirled away, returning to her dance. But even as he resumed his post, he found himself watching her again, unable to look away.

-----

The grand dining hall of Castle Lovelei glowed with the warmth of candlelight, the long table adorned with golden candelabras, polished silverware, and trays of decadent dishes. King Randolph Lovelei sat at the head of the table, his regal presence softened by the warm smile he reserved only for his daughters. One by one, the twelve princesses arrived, each greeting their father with a kiss on the cheek before taking their designated seats. The younger ones giggled as they settled in, while the older ones engaged in light conversation, the sound of their voices blending into a harmonious melody of familial affection.

Pero Tovar and William Garin stood near the entrance, keeping a watchful eye on the room, their hands resting instinctively near their weapons. Pero had been in noble courts before, but there was something different about Castle Lovelei. It was not just a place of power, it was a home, filled with warmth, laughter, and the gentle hum of a family’s love.

Yet, as the last of the princesses took her seat, a noticeable absence became clear.

Randolph Lovelei exhaled through his nose, amusement flickering in his deep-set eyes as he glanced toward the empty chair beside him, the one belonging to his eldest daughter.

"Y/N is late again." The king mused, though there was no anger in his tone. "No doubt caught up in her dancing."

The other princesses exchanged knowing glances, some stifling giggles as they’ve already expected this would happen again. Randolph then turned his gaze to Pero Tovar, who immediately stiffened under the weight of royal attention.

"Master Tovar." The king said kindly. "Would you be so kind as to fetch my eldest from the gardens? I fear she has once again lost herself in her ballet."

Pero barely held back a sigh. He had already suspected as much.

William smirked beside him, nudging him with an elbow. "Looks like you’re her official keeper now."

Pero shot him a glare before giving a curt nod to the king. "I’ll bring her in."

With that, he turned on his heel and made his way through the castle, following the now-familiar path to the gardens.

The night was cool, a gentle breeze rustling through the flowers, carrying the soft scent of roses and lavender. The stars shone brightly above, their light reflecting off the still waters of the great fountain.

And there, as expected, was Y/N Lovelei.

She stood on the stone path before the fountain, completely unaware of the passage of time. Her arms extended gracefully, her delicate fingers carving unseen patterns in the air. With each movement, her dark pink gown swayed, the fabric catching the moonlight.

Pero paused in the shadows, arms crossed, watching.

She truly was something else, fearless, free-spirited, and utterly lost in her own world. There was a discipline to her movements that reminded him of a well-trained warrior, yet there was also a softness, a lightness that made it seem as though she was floating rather than dancing.

Finally, he let out a sharp breath. "Princesa."

Y/N startled mid-spin, nearly losing her footing before steadying herself. Her wide, violet-blue eyes turned to him, blinking in surprise. Then, as if realizing the situation, a sheepish smile played on her lips.

"Oh…" She said lightly, brushing stray strands of hair from her face. "Let me guess. I’m late again?"

Pero narrowed his eyes. "Your father sent me to drag you inside before you starve at your own dinner table."

Y/N laughed softly, not at all fazed by his gruff tone. "I suppose I did lose track of time." She bent down to adjust the ribbons on her slippers, then rose to her full height, dusting off her gown. "But in my defense." She continued playfully, "I was in the middle of something important."

"Important?" Pero scoffed. "Prancing around in the dark?"

The eldest princess gasped, feigning offense. "It’s not prancing! It’s a highly skilled and disciplined art, Master Tovar." She placed a hand over her heart dramatically. "You wound me with your words."

Pero grumbled under his breath. "Enough of this nonsense. Let’s go." He turned on his heel, expecting her to follow. But after a few steps, he realized she wasn’t moving. He glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowing. "Princesa…"

Princess Y/N was still standing by the fountain, her hands clasped behind her back, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I’ll come," she said. "But on one condition."

Pero sighed, already regretting asking. "What?"

The eldest Lovelei princess tilted her head, her hair shimmering under the moonlight. "Dance with me first."

Pero groaned. "Not this again."

She grinned. "Just one turn. And then I promise I’ll go inside like a proper princess."

The Spaniard crossed his arms, staring her down with a raised eyebrow. "I don’t dance."

Y/N took a step closer, amusement dancing in her gaze as she doesn’t feel threatened at all under his scrutinizing glare. "That’s exactly why you should try."

Pero let out a long, frustrated sigh. He could think of a hundred better things to be doing right now, patrolling the castle walls, sharpening his sword, even sparring with William or indulging himself with the lavish meals served for dinner, but the way she looked at him, so full of mischief and challenge, made it hard to say no.

Finally, with an exasperated shake of his head, he muttered. "One turn."

The princess beamed. "I knew you had it in you."

She stepped closer, gently taking his calloused hand in her own. He stiffened slightly at the contact, unaccustomed to such softness.

"Just follow my lead," she whispered.

And, for the first time in his life, Pero Tovar danced.

And couldn’t help but feel like a fool.

His boots were too heavy, his stance too rigid, and the very idea of twirling about in the moonlight felt utterly ridiculous. He was a warrior, not some courtly noble trained in the ways of elegant dancing. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of the garden, his hand clasped in the princess’ as she guided him through a slow, graceful waltz.

"Relax." Princess Y/N said, her voice light and teasing. "Dancing is about feeling the rhythm, not overthinking it."

Pero scoffed, his expression skeptical. "I’m not overthinking. I just don’t do this."

Y/N only smiled. "You are now." She took the lead effortlessly, her steps precise and fluid as she coaxed him into movement. At first, Pero’s footing was clumsy, his grip on her hand hesitant, but she was patient. She moved with such ease, like a leaf drifting on the wind, and somehow, without even realizing it, he found himself adjusting to match her pace.

Their movements became smoother, more synchronized.

The Spaniard caught on to the rhythm of their steps, the gentle forward and backward sway, the subtle shifting of weight, the way the princess’ gown swirled around her ankles like liquid silk. And then, without thinking, he did something that surprised even himself.

He twirled her.

The princess gasped softly, caught off guard yet delighted. Her skirts flared out as she spun beneath the moonlight, the glow casting silver highlights in her braids. When she returned to face him, her deep gentle eyes shimmered with excitement. "Well done, Master Tovar." She said breathlessly.

Pero huffed, a hint of smugness creeping into his smirk. "Lucky guess."

Y/N laughed. "Try it again."

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He led her into another twirl, then another, growing more confident in his steps. His grip on her waist steadied, his movements becoming less rigid and more natural. The warrior in him understood balance, control, and precision, dancing, he realized, was not so different from battle. It was about timing, trust, and instinct.

And Princess Y/N? She was a perfect dance partner.

She guided him without force, allowing him to take control when he was ready. Their laughter mixed with the soft rustling of the trees, their breath visible in the cool night air. The entire world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them moving in effortless harmony beneath the stars.

Pero had never felt this before, this lightness, this strange, unexpected joy. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t thinking about war or duty or survival. He wasn’t worrying about guarding a castle or keeping reckless princesses out of trouble. He was simply dancing. And, somehow, that was enough.

As their waltz came to a natural end, Y/N looked up at him, her cheeks flushed, her smile radiant. "You’re not bad at this, you know." She murmured.

Pero chuckled, shaking his head. "Don’t tell Garin. He’ll never let me live it down."

The princess giggled, squeezing his hand once before stepping back. "Your secret is safe with me, Master Tovar."

The Spaniard cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how close they had been standing. The warmth of her hand still lingered against his own, and the way she gazed at him, soft yet full of mischief, made something stir in his chest.

But before he could dwell on it, she took his arm with a playful tug. "Come now." She said, leading him toward the castle. "If we don’t return soon, my father will send the entire guard to retrieve me."

Pero exhaled through his nose, falling into step beside her.

As they made their way back to the grand halls of Castle Lovelei, Pero realized something with a quiet sense of amusement.

He wouldn’t mind dancing with her again.

Not one bit.

-----

Later that evening, after dinner had settled and the castle had quieted into a peaceful lull, Pero Tovar and William Garin began their routine patrol around the palace grounds. The halls of Castle Lovelei were grand and lined with torches that flickered in the night, casting long shadows across the walls. The two warriors moved through the corridors with the ease of men accustomed to watching over something precious, their footsteps steady, their senses sharp.

But tonight, something was different.

As they walked past the vast gardens, the same place where Pero had danced with the eldest princess, William Garin’s ears caught something unusual.

Humming.

Not just any humming, but the same melody Princess Y/N Lovelei had been dancing ballet to earlier by the fountains.

And the culprit?

Pero Tovar.

William slowed his steps, turning his head slightly, just to make sure he wasn’t hearing things. But no, there it was again. The deep, gravelly hum of his oldest companion, following the exact tune that the eldest princess had so gracefully moved to. A slow grin spread across William’s face. “Well, well.” The Irishman drawled, crossing his arms over his chest as he stopped in his tracks. “I never thought I’d see the day Pero Tovar hums a melody fit for a ballroom.”

Pero instantly cut off the tune, his expression hardening into a scowl. He kept walking, his shoulders stiffening as if that would somehow dismiss the moment. “You’re hearing things.”

William scoffed, falling into step beside him. “No, no, I’m quite sure I heard correctly. In fact.” He tilted his head playfully. “Wasn’t that the very song Princess Y/N danced to earlier today? The one you so eagerly watched?”

Pero exhaled sharply through his nose. “You talk too much, Garin.”

William smirked, ever the relentless one when he sensed something worth teasing. “Oh, but this is interesting. Here I thought you had no patience for the delicate ways of the court, and yet I find you not only humming a ballet tune but also escorting a certain princess back to dinner after what I suspect was a rather private moment in the gardens.”

Pero grumbled something under his breath and picked up his pace. William only laughed, keeping up effortlessly. “So tell me, did she teach you a few steps?” The Irishman nudged him playfully. “Did you spin her beneath the moonlight like one of those fairy tales?”

Pero stopped walking altogether and shot William a glare that might have made a lesser man flinch. “Drop it.”

But William had been his friend for far too long to be intimidated by Pero’s temper. If anything, it only amused him further. “Oh, come on now. There’s no shame in it. Princess Y/N is a remarkable woman, beautiful, graceful, and kind. I imagine any man would be drawn to her.” He gave Pero a knowing glance. “Even a gruff, battle-worn soldier like yourself.”

Pero clenched his jaw. “She is a princess. I am her guard. That is all.”

William raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

Pero said nothing, only resuming his patrol with an irritated huff.

William, ever the persistent one, let the silence stretch for a few moments before finally sighing. “Fine, I’ll drop it.” Then, just as Pero was beginning to relax, he added. “For now.”

Pero groaned, running a hand down his face as William chuckled beside him.

The teasing would not end anytime soon.

And worse?

For the rest of their patrol, the tune of Princess Y/N’s ballet refused to leave Pero’s mind.

-----

The sun cast its golden glow over Castle Lovelei, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange. Inside the princesses’ chambers, the morning routine was already in full swing, brushes smoothing through golden and chestnut locks, corsets being fastened, and laughter echoing through the grand dressing room. Princess Y/N Lovelei stood before her mirror, humming softly as she combed through her hair, a dreamy smile curving her lips. Her movements were slower than usual, almost as if she were lost in a memory, one that made her heart flutter and her cheeks warm.

And her sisters noticed.

It started with Ashlyn, the second eldest and the most observant among them. She set down her perfume bottle and raised a brow at Y/N’s expression. “You look… different this morning, dear sister.” She mused.

Lacey, one of the younger triplets, perked up from across the room, tying a ribbon in her hair. “Oh! She does! Look at that smile! Like she’s dreaming of something sweet.”

“Or someone.” Hadley added with a teasing grin.

Soon, the entire room erupted in giggles as all eleven princesses turned to their eldest sister with knowing smirks.

Y/N blinked, her humming ceasing as she looked around in confusion. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” Janessa drawled dramatically. “Only that you seem to be positively glowing this morning.”

“You never wake up looking this happy.” Kathleen pointed out, crossing her arms. “You’re usually groaning about how you wish you could sleep in longer.”

“Or sneaking in a few last-minute dance steps before breakfast.” Courtney added.

Kathleen, one of the younger sisters, gasped suddenly, her eyes widening in realization. “Wait a moment… Could it be?”

“It must be!” Delia giggled.

“Oh, don’t keep us waiting, dear sister.” Edeline chimed in, her emerald eyes glinting with mischief. “Tell us, who is he?”

Y/N’s face turned an unmistakable shade of pink as she turned back toward her mirror, trying (and failing) to compose herself. “I…There is no ‘he.’ I don’t know what you’re all talking about.” But her sisters weren’t convinced.

“Aha! That means there is someone!” Blair grinned triumphantly.

“Who is the lucky man?” Delia pressed, inching closer. “Is he from the court? A noble?”

“Maybe one of the knights?” Fallon suggested.

“Or perhaps…” Courtney trailed off dramatically before whispering, “One of our new bodyguards?”

That made the eldest princess freeze. Her grip on her comb tightened, her heart skipping a beat. The moment of hesitation did not go unnoticed. A collective gasp filled the room as the sisters exchanged wide-eyed looks. “It is one of the bodyguards!” Lacey squealed.

Y/N turned around quickly, feeling her face now getting warm. “Alright, that’s enough teasing!” But her reaction only confirmed their suspicions.

“Oh, sister, this is so exciting!” Edeline clapped her hands together.

“So, who is it?” Courtney demanded. “Sir Garin or Sir Tovar?”

The eldest Lovelei daughter felt the heat crawl up her neck as she sputtered, “I…I…”

“Sir Tovar.” Ashlyn answered knowingly, smirking at the way their sister was beginning to panic. The sisters burst into another round of delighted giggles.

“Oh, Y/N!” Isla swooned. “A rugged, brooding warrior? How romantic!”

“A mercenary at that,” Fallon added, feigning shock. “A forbidden love story in the making!”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands as her sisters giggled and squealed around her.

Little did they know, outside the chamber door, Pero Tovar had been passing through the hall when he caught the unmistakable sound of their playful shrieks. He paused briefly, raising a suspicious brow. Something told him the princesses were up to something. And if his name was being tossed around in the midst of it… he wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or amused. With a shake of his head, he muttered under his breath and continued walking.

Whatever it was, he had a feeling he would find out soon enough.

The grand dining hall of Castle Lovelei was already filled with the warm scent of freshly baked bread, sweet honeyed fruit, and the rich aroma of roasted meats. Golden sunlight streamed through the towering windows, casting a soft glow upon the long, polished dining table where King Randolph Lovelei sat, waiting for his daughters to join him.

The sound of light footsteps and soft giggles filled the corridor leading to the hall as the twelve princesses, adorned in their morning gowns, made their way inside.

Princess Y/N Lovelei walked ahead of her sisters, her heart still fluttering from the morning's relentless teasing. She had managed to escape the conversation after much protest, but their knowing smirks and side glances had not wavered in the slightest.

As they neared the grand doors to the dining hall, two familiar figures stood at their posts, Sir William Garin and Sir Pero Tovar. The two bodyguards, ever vigilant, stood with their arms crossed, their eyes sweeping across the corridor before falling upon the approaching princesses. The moment the eldest princess spotted them, her face instantly brightened. Her lips curved into a warm, radiant smile as she turned her attention to Pero.

“Good morning, Sir Tovar, Sir Garin!” She greeted cheerfully, her voice carrying the same musical lilt as the song she had been humming earlier.

Pero Tovar, who had been idly adjusting the leather bracer on his arm, turned at the sound of her voice. His dark eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, something flickered in them, something unreadable, something soft. William Garin, on the other hand, immediately noticed the way Y/N’s eyes lingered just a little longer on Pero, and more importantly, the way Pero’s usually gruff expression faltered for half a second before he straightened his stance.

“Good morning, Princess.” The Irishman greeted smoothly, biting back a smirk as he nudged Pero lightly with his elbow. “Isn’t that right, Pero?”

Pero exhaled sharply, side-eyeing his friend before nodding stiffly. “Buenos días, Princesas.”

The simplicity of his response would have been nothing out of the ordinary, except for the fact that his deep voice was not as gruff as usual. It lacked the usual irritation or disinterest he often carried when dealing with royalty.

And Princess Y/N noticed. Her smile widened, her eyes twinkling with something akin to amusement and curiosity. Unfortunately for her, her sisters noticed everything as well.

“Oh my, dear sister.” Ashlyn whispered dramatically, loud enough for only their sisters to hear. “What a bright smile you have this morning.”

“Yes, and look at how happy she is to greet them.” Lacey added with a mischievous giggle.

“How very interesting,” Edeline mused, feigning deep thought.

The eldest princess’ cheeks tinged pink, but she refused to let her sisters get to her again. Instead, she simply turned on her heel and lifted her chin, attempting to walk past them with grace and dignity. But just as she stepped forward, Hadley suddenly whispered, “I wonder if Sir Tovar caught her love-struck humming earlier…”

The usually graceful and careful princess Y/n then stumbled in her steps. She quickly regained her footing, but not before a few of her younger sisters gasped and stifled their giggles behind their hands.

Pero, who had been silently watching, furrowed his brows slightly. “Are you alright, Princesa?”

“I’m fine!” Y/N answered quickly, a little too quickly.

Pero raised a brow at her, clearly unconvinced.

William Garin, meanwhile, was thoroughly enjoying this entire exchange. He smirked knowingly, crossing his arms as he leaned slightly toward Pero. “You must be more careful, Pero. Seems you’re making the princess quite flustered this morning.” The Spaniard’s eyes darkened in warning as he turned his head toward Garin, who merely chuckled in response.

Y/N, deciding that she had suffered enough teasing for the morning, hurriedly walked past the guards and entered the dining hall. Her sisters followed close behind, barely containing their laughter. As they reached the dining table, King Randolph Lovelei greeted them with a warm smile, extending his arms as each of his daughters approached to kiss his cheek before taking their respective seats. But as the eldest princess sat down, her heart still raced from the lingering moment outside. She could still feel Pero’s gaze, steady, searching, unreadable.

And when she dared to glance back toward the grand doors, she found that he was still looking her way.

This time, it was his turn to smirk.

-----

The dining hall of Castle Lovelei buzzed with energy as the twelve princesses enjoyed their breakfast, the warmth of the morning sun filtering through the tall windows. The clinking of silverware and the soft murmur of conversation filled the air, but it wasn’t long before King Randolph Lovelei cleared his throat, drawing the attention of his daughters.

“My dear girls.” He began, his deep and regal voice carrying a warmth that made the princesses look up from their plates. “As you all know, Y/N’s birthday is approaching, and I intend for it to be a truly grand affair, one that will be remembered throughout the kingdom.”

At his words, the eldest princess nearly choked on her tea. She quickly set down her cup, dabbing at her lips with a napkin as her sisters gasped excitedly.

“Oh, Father, it must be the most extravagant ball in all the land!” Ashlyn declared, her hazel eyes sparkling. “Y/N is our eldest sister! She deserves the finest celebration!”

“I agree!” Blair added eagerly. “We must have the grandest banquet, with delicacies from all over the kingdom.”

“And music! A full orchestra, with the finest musicians from the royal court.” Edeline chimed in.

Lacey clapped her hands together. “We should have a breathtaking ballroom theme, something enchanting, like a moonlit garden!”

“Oh, and fireworks!” Hadley and Isla said in unison, their identical faces lighting up.

“Fireworks inside the ballroom?” Y/N asked, raising a brow in amusement and looking at her overly excited sisters.

The twins blinked before shaking their heads. “No, no! Outside, of course,” Hadley corrected. “Just as the clock strikes midnight!”

“And what of the royal guests?” Delia leaned forward, smirking. “Surely, Father, you plan on inviting all the noble families from neighboring kingdoms?”

Randolph chuckled, stroking his beard. “Indeed, I do. It shall be a grand gathering, kings, queens, dukes, duchesses, and their heirs.” His gaze softened as he turned to his eldest daughter. “All coming to celebrate you, my dear.”

Princess Y/N smiled, her heart warmed by her father’s love and her sisters’ enthusiasm. “That all sounds wonderful, truly. But…” She hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. “...it does seem a bit much, does it not?”

Her sisters gasped dramatically.

“A bit much?” Fallon repeated. “Dear sister, this is your birthday! It should be the most magnificent ball of the year!”

“Yes, but I do not need all these extravagant things to enjoy myself.” Y/N said with a soft laugh. “I would be perfectly content dancing the night away with my family and dear friends.”

“That is precisely why it must be perfect!” Courtney, ever the perfectionist, insisted. “Your love for dancing is exactly why this celebration should reflect all that you hold dear.”

Randolph smiled, amused by his daughters’ passionate planning. “Then it is settled. We shall have a magnificent ball, one filled with music, dancing, and all the wonders you could ever dream of, my dear.”

The woman in question merely sighed, but her smile never faded. She knew there was no use in arguing, her sisters were far too invested now. “Very well.” She finally relented. “But please, do not let the preparations become a burden on anyone.”

“Nonsense!” Lacey giggled. “We love planning these things!”

As the princesses continued their discussion, Y/N took a sip of her tea, letting her mind wander for a moment. A grand ball, filled with noble suitors and dignitaries. The thought should have excited her. And yet…Her gaze drifted ever so slightly toward the great hall’s entrance, where Sir Pero Tovar and Sir William Garin remained stationed at their posts.

Unbeknownst to her, the Spaniard had been watching, silently listening to every word spoken.

A birthday ball.

A night filled with dancing.

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. Dancing again, he thought.

And yet, despite himself, he found his mind betraying him, drifting back to the night before, to the feel of Y/N’s hand in his, the way her laughter had melted away the stiffness in his movements, the way she had twirled effortlessly beneath the moonlight.

Pero clenched his jaw.

He was a soldier. A protector.

Not a dancer.

And certainly not a suitor.

But as the eldest princess’ laughter rang through the hall, as bright as the morning sun, he found himself gripping the hilt of his sword just a little tighter.

-----

The afternoon sun bathed Castle Lovelei’s gardens in golden warmth, the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional chirping of birds blending into a peaceful symphony. The twelve princesses had once again gathered in their favorite outdoor haven, each engaging in her respective hobbies.

The youngest triplet princesses, Janessa, Kathleen and Lacey, were busy roaming the gardens in search for more bugs to add to their collection. The identical twin princesses, Hadley and Isla, were busy giggling to themselves as they circled around the gardens and balancing themselves on their stilts. The other set of older twin princesses, Delia and Edeline, have taken it upon themselves to continue their game of croquet from yesterday. Princess Blair, the third oldest, was not in the gardens and took it upon herself to visit the stables again to see the horses and help the stableboys tend to them. The fourth daughter, Princess Courtney, has taken her usual place underneath the shade of an oak tree with a new book in her hands and is now fully immersed in her brand new story. Then there was Princess Ashlynn and Princess Fallon, the second and seventh daughter, were conversing and having some tea with each other. 

In the midst of all the harmonious scenes, Princess Y/N once again found herself by the grand marble fountains, her slippered feet gliding effortlessly across the stone path as she practiced her new ballet routine. She spun, leaped, and twirled, her long braided hair following her movements like a ribbon caught in the wind. Her heart soared with every graceful step, her mind completely lost in the dance.

That was until…

Rustle.

Y/N’s movements faltered as she caught the faint sound of shifting leaves from the nearby hedges. Her deep blue-violet eyes flickered toward the source of the noise.

Another rustle.

She turned her head, curiosity piqued. Carefully, she stepped toward the thick, well-manicured bushes lining the stone pathway. With delicate fingers, she parted the leaves, peering beyond the greenery. And the sight instantly made her breath hitch. There, nestled between the bushes, was a tiny orange kitten with scruffy, unkempt fur. Its small, fluffy body trembled slightly, and when its big, round amber eyes met hers, it let out a pitiful little meow.

“Oh…” Y/N’s heart clenched at the sight. The poor thing was injured, one of its front paws was curled up, refusing to touch the ground. Gently, she knelt down and carefully extended a hand. “Oh, you poor little dear.” She cooed softly. “Where did you come from?”

The kitten blinked up at her before hesitantly taking a step forward, but it immediately stumbled, letting out another weak mew.

Y/N’s brows knitted together in concern. Without hesitation, she carefully scooped the tiny creature into her arms, cradling it close.

The poor kitten flinched at first but soon melted into her embrace, pressing its tiny face against the soft fabric of her dress.

The princess merely smiled fondly. “There, there… You’re safe now.” She turned back toward the gardens, scanning for her sisters. “Ashlynn! Fallon!” She called out towards two of her younger sisters nearby the fountain.

Her sisters immediately turned their heads. “What is it?” Ashlynn asked, setting aside the teacup she was sipping on.

The eldest princess strode toward them, carefully holding out the injured kitten. “Look what I found.” She said. “The poor thing has a hurt paw.”

Fallon’s eyes widened, and Ashlynn let out a gasp. “Oh, the poor darling!” Ashlynn reached out to gently stroke the kitten’s head. “It looks so hungry, too.”

“Should we take it to the royal veterinarian?” Fallon suggested with a worried tone in her voice.

Before anyone could answer, another voice joined the conversation.

“I’d say it looks like trouble.” The deep, gruff voice of Pero Tovar startled the princesses as he stepped forward, arms crossed. His sharp eyes locked onto the tiny ball of fluff in Y/N’s arms.

“A stray cat?” He muttered, eyeing it warily. “Hmph. And here I thought you princesses only kept elegant creatures like white doves and purebred horses.”

Y/N frowned, hugging the kitten protectively. “Every creature, elegant or not, deserves kindness, Sir Pero.”

The Spaniard huffed, shaking his head. “I didn’t say otherwise. Just don’t let it claw your fancy dress to shreds.”

Ashlynn giggled behind her hand. “I think Sir Pero is scared of the little kitten.”

The princesses laughed, and Pero scowled. “I’m not scared of anything.” He grumbled. “I just know a stray animal can carry trouble.”

The eldest princess ignored his gruff attitude and turned to her sisters. “We need to find some food for it. And perhaps some warm milk.” She brightly smiled, her heart swelling with warmth as she looked down at the kitten. It was already purring against her, its tiny body trusting her completely.

Pero watched the scene unfold, exhaling heavily as he ran a hand down his face.

First, the princess had dragged him into dancing.

Now, she was bringing in wounded strays.

And for some reason, despite himself…

He found that he didn’t mind it.

-----

The little kitten was warm against Princess Y/N’s chest, its tiny body rising and falling with every peaceful breath. It was curled up comfortably in her arms, no longer trembling, though its injured paw remained limp. Every so often, it would let out a faint mew, as if reassuring her it was still there.

Pero Tovar walked beside her, his heavy boots crunching against the gravel path as they made their way toward the royal veterinarian’s quarters. His arms were crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable as he occasionally glanced at the little creature nestled against her. “You sure about this, princesa?” He finally grunted. 

“Taking in a stray? It’s going to need care, training. Not just a warm lap to sleep on.”

Princess Y/N turned to him with a soft smile, her gentle eyes shining with determination. “Of course, I’m sure.” She said. “He needs me.”

Pero scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s a lot of responsibility for someone who already spends too much time twirling around fountains instead of minding the time.”

The princess merely giggled. “And yet you were twirling right alongside me just last night.”

His jaw tightened as she shot him a playful look. Pero let out a gruff sigh, muttering something under his breath as they reached the veterinarian’s door.

The princess gently knocks to make their presence known, and moments later, the door swung open to reveal the castle’s head veterinarian, a kind-faced woman named Lady Edith. Her wise, gentle eyes flickered towards the princess and then down to the small bundle in her arms.

“Oh, dear.” Lady Edith murmured, stepping aside. “Come in, quickly.”

Y/N entered with Pero following behind her with a watchful gaze. They gently laid the kitten on a small cushioned table as Lady Edith immediately got to work, inspecting the tiny creature’s injured paw. She hummed thoughtfully as she pressed along the limb, gauging the kitten’s reaction. The little thing let out a soft whimper but didn’t try to squirm away.

“It’s not broken.” Lady Edith reassured them. “Just sprained. Likely from a fall. A bandage and some rest will do the trick.”

The princess sighed in relief. “That’s wonderful news.”

Pero crossed his arms again. “And the rest of it?”

Lady Edith smiled as she carefully lifted the kitten and set it in a small wooden tub filled with warm water. The little creature flinched at first, but as soon as her gentle hands lathered its fur with a light soap, it let out a deep, satisfied purr. “He’s just a bit dirty and underfed,” The sweet old lady explained as she continued washing away the grime. “Nothing some proper food and care won’t fix.”

Y/N watched with fascination as the once scruffy orange kitten slowly transformed. His fur, now free of dirt, was revealed to be a stunning shade of golden-orange, soft and fluffy like a miniature lion’s mane. Once he was thoroughly cleaned and dried, Lady Edith wrapped his sprained paw with a small bandage and handed him back to the princess. The kitten eagerly curled up in her arms once again, letting out a content purr as if he had already chosen her as his new home. A bright smile stretched across her lips. “I think I shall name him Leon.”

Pero raised an eyebrow. “Leon?”

“Yes…” The princess nodded, gently stroking the kitten’s tiny head. “Because of his beautiful bright fur. He looks like a little lion.”

Lady Edith chuckled. “A fitting name.”

Pero huffed, giving the kitten another glance. “Hmph. More like a tiny nuisance.”

As if understanding the insult, Leon lifted his head, blinking up at Pero before letting out a tiny but determined mew.

Y/N laughed. “I think he disagrees with you, Sir Pero.”

Pero only rolled his eyes. “You’re just lucky he’s small.”

With Leon now clean, bandaged, and comfortably settled in the princess’ arms, she carefully took a small dish of warm milk that Lady Edith had prepared and held it out to him. The kitten immediately perked up, eagerly lapping at the liquid with tiny, enthusiastic flicks of his tongue. Watching the little creature drink so eagerly, Y/N felt warmth bloom in her heart. This tiny being had been hurt, alone, and afraid. But now, he was safe. And he had found a home with her.

Pero observed quietly, his rough exterior softening for just a fraction of a second. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a new shadow, princesa.” He muttered.

Y/N brightly beamed at him. “And I think he rather likes you, too.”

Pero snorted. “Doubt it.”

But as if to prove her point, Leon, now satisfied from his meal, curled up once more in her arms, his tiny head resting against her chest. Yet, his amber eyes flickered toward Pero, as if recognizing him as part of their little trio now. The eldest princess giggled, stroking Leon’s fur. “Welcome home, little one.”

And in that moment, with the setting sun casting golden light through the windows, she knew Leon had not only found a home.

He had found a family.

-----

The sun hung lazily in the afternoon sky, casting soft rays of gold that danced through the green leaves of the towering trees in Castle Lovelei’s grand gardens. The air was warm, and the fragrance of blooming flowers wafted through the grounds, mixing with the faint scent of the distant sea. Pero Tovar had wandered into the gardens, finding himself more and more drawn to the serene atmosphere as of late. With each step, he felt the tranquility of the place, but there was also a soft pull at his chest, a tug he couldn’t quite explain. It was the same pull that had brought him here today.

And there she was.

Princess Y/N.

She was at the fountains once again, the water glistening behind her like a crystal backdrop. Her delicate feet moved with precise elegance, the soft click of her shoes barely audible over the hum of the garden. She wore a soft pink and white gown today, and as she spun in place, the fabric fluttered around her like petals in the breeze. Her long hair, woven with dark pink bands, swirled around her, gleaming in the sunlight.

The Spaniard stood at the edge of the fountain, leaning slightly against the stone wall as his eyes followed her every movement. Beside him, Leon sat perched, his little orange form oddly still for such an energetic creature, his golden eyes locked on the princess with the same kind of focus that Pero felt creeping into his own chest.

The kitten let out a soft mew, causing Pero to glance down at him. “Even you’re captivated by her.” He muttered, his voice low as he crouched down, watching Leon’s tail flicker with interest. The kitten didn’t respond but continued to watch Y/N’s graceful movements, its head slightly tilting with curiosity.

Pero’s gaze returned to the princess. Her form was flawless, each movement an embodiment of grace and power. She was lost in her art, twirling and leaping as though the world around her had vanished. For a moment, it was just her and the dance, her body telling stories without words, the music only she could hear guiding her every step. He felt his heart tighten in his chest. He had watched her dance countless times before, but today, something about it felt different. Maybe it was the way the sun caught her hair, or the delicate way she moved with the rhythm of the world. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was witnessing something more than just a dance, it was an intimate piece of her soul laid bare for the world to see.

Leon’s mew broke Pero from his thoughts, and he glanced down at the kitten again. “I suppose you’re right. She’s... magnificent.” His words came out quietly, as if not wanting to disturb the beauty of the moment.

And then, the unthinkable happened.

As Y/N twirled, a soft breeze picked up, sending a few loose strands of hair flying into her face. Without missing a beat, she continued, her movements flowing in perfect harmony with the rhythm of the wind. Her eyes were closed, and for a fleeting moment, Pero could have sworn he saw a faint smile on her lips.

Her beauty and grace took his breath away, leaving him momentarily frozen in place. He had never seen someone so effortlessly breathtaking, so full of life and passion.

Leon, noticing his lack of attention, took it upon himself to nudge Pero’s arm, giving a little impatient mew, as if to say, “Don’t just stand there, watch her!”

Pero chuckled softly and gave the kitten a quick scratch behind the ears. “You’re right, little one.” He shook his head and smiled to himself.

As the princess continued to dance, she began to move closer to the edge of the fountain, where she caught sight of Pero and Leon. She slowed, her expression softening as she approached them, her feet landing lightly on the stone path. “Forgive me, I didn’t notice that you two were here.” She said with a playful glint in her eyes, her voice carrying the same melody as the dance itself.

The mercenary cleared his throat and stood up straight, trying to mask the slight flush creeping up his neck. “I…uh, I didn’t want to disturb you. But it seems Leon here couldn’t help himself. He’s quite the admirer of yours.” He nodded toward the kitten, who was now sitting proudly at his feet.

Princess Y/N laughed softly, bending down to give Leon a gentle pet. “I think it’s the other way around. You’ve been a loyal companion, haven’t you, Leon?” She smiled at the kitten, who responded with a satisfied purr.

Pero couldn’t help but notice the warmth in her eyes as she looked down at Leon. It wasn’t just affection, it was a quiet fondness, a bond between them that was as strong as any friendship or family tie.

“I must say, though.” Y/N continued, standing up and facing Pero with a graceful elegant turn. “You’ve been quite the silent observer, Pero. I didn’t expect you to appreciate ballet so much.”

He shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. “I…I’m not much for dancing.” He said, his voice rougher than usual. “But there’s something about watching you, Princesa... it’s... it’s mesmerizing.”

Y/N’s smile softened, and she nodded as though she understood. “It’s the music, isn’t it? The rhythm. Ballet isn’t just about movement, it’s about telling a story. It’s my way of communicating when words fail me.”

The Spaniard felt the weight of her words linger in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. “You’ve never failed to communicate, Princesa.” He replied quietly, his gaze steady on her, his heart inexplicably drawn toward her.

The eldest princess tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful. “Thank you,Sir Pero.” She smiled softly and reached out to gently take Leon in her arms once again. “Perhaps one day, I’ll properly teach you a dance.”

A small, almost amused smile tugged at Pero’s lips. “I think I’ll leave that to the professionals.”

She laughed, her laughter like music itself, and with a small wink, she turned back to the fountain, the soft swish of her gown following her graceful movements.

Pero stood there for a moment longer, watching her as she resumed her practice. The day had grown late, and the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, casting the garden in a soft golden light. But he didn’t move, not yet. Instead, he let his eyes wander back to Y/N, the way she danced effortlessly beneath the sky, and felt the strange, undeniable pull in his chest once again.

-----

The grand dining hall of Castle Lovelei was illuminated by the golden glow of chandeliers, their flickering candlelight casting warm reflections against the polished marble floor. The long, regal dining table was adorned with luxurious silverware and delicately arranged floral centerpieces, their fragrance mingling with the rich aroma of the evening feast. King Randolph Lovelei sat at the head of the table, his expression content as he watched his twelve daughters enjoy their meal. Laughter and chatter filled the space, the princesses exchanging playful banter while their maids ensured their plates were never empty.

Princess Y/N sat among her sisters, her mind still lingering on the events of the afternoon, the soft melody of her ballet, the warmth of Leon in her arms, and the deep, unwavering gaze of Pero Tovar as he had watched her dance. Something about those moments made her heart feel light, free, untethered to the responsibilities of royal life.

But that moment of peace was shattered in an instant.

King Randolph, setting down his goblet of wine, cleared his throat and spoke in his deep, authoritative voice. “My daughters…” He began. “...with Y/N’s birthday drawing near, I have taken it upon myself to ensure it is a celebration worthy of her station. We shall have a grand ball, the finest the kingdom has seen in years. And, to mark this momentous occasion…” He paused, smiling at his eldest daughter. “I have invited noble princes and esteemed men from across the land to attend, so that they may have the honor of courting my eldest daughter.”

A beat of silence.

Then, excitement erupted around the table.

The younger princesses gasped and squealed in delight, whispering amongst themselves about which noblemen or prince would attend, what grand gifts they might bring, and whether any of them would be charming enough to win their eldest sister’s favor and even win her hand in marriage.

But Y/N herself…

She had frozen in place, her fingers slackening as the silver spoon slipped from her grasp, landing with a soft clatter against her porcelain plate. Her heart pounded, her throat tightened at the thought.

Marriage?

Her father was arranging suitors for her now?

She forced herself to swallow, her voice hesitant. “Father… you wish for me to…” She paused, steadying herself, “...to be courted? To be… betrothed?”

King Randolph chuckled, seemingly oblivious to the distress in her voice. “Of course, my dear. You are of age, and it is only right that we begin the search for a suitable husband.” He smiled warmly, but to Y/N, the words felt heavy. “This is an important duty as a princess. You will strengthen alliances, ensure the prosperity of our kingdom, and, in time, rule beside a man who will cherish and support you.”

Y/N’s fingers curled around the edge of the table, her pulse quickening. It wasn’t that she despised marriage, she knew it was an eventual expectation. But why now? Why so suddenly? And why did the thought of it feel so suffocating? As the excited voices of her sisters swirled around her, she found herself gripping her gown tightly beneath the table.

She wasn’t ready.

She wasn’t ready to give her heart to a stranger, to allow herself to be locked into a life she did not choose.

And as her mind reeled, her thoughts drifted, against her will, to a certain dark-haired soldier.

Pero Tovar.

The way he had held her hand when she had guided him into the waltz. The way his rough, battle-worn hands had been so hesitant, so unsure, and yet so strong. The way he had twirled her beneath the moonlight, catching her in his arms when she lost her balance. The way he had looked at her that afternoon in the gardens, his brown eyes watching her with something she couldn’t quite name, something unspoken, something that made her heart race.

And suddenly, the idea of standing in a grand ballroom, dancing with a stranger, some nobleman with a polished smile and rehearsed words, felt unbearably wrong. The weight of expectation pressed against her, and for the first time in her life, she did not know how to escape it. The voices around the table became distant, the light of the chandeliers too bright, the air too heavy.

And in that moment, Y/N Lovelei. the fearless, untamed princess who danced with the wind itself, felt trapped.

-----

The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the castle gardens, bathing the blooming flowers in warm light. Laughter and chatter filled the air as the princesses indulged in their usual pastimes, some painting, others reading, and a few engaging in playful games of tag on the grassy lawn. The scent of fresh roses mixed with the faint aroma of baked goods wafting from the castle kitchens, creating a serene, picturesque atmosphere.

Pero Tovar stood alongside William Garin, both men keeping a watchful eye on the twelve princesses as they moved about the gardens. It was a duty they had grown accustomed to, though William often took the task with far more ease, occasionally exchanging lighthearted comments about their privileged charge. Pero, however, was not as easily amused today. His eyes wandered toward the grand marble fountain at the heart of the garden, where the familiar sight of Y/N Lovelei should have been, twirling, leaping, lost in the rhythm of her own world.

But instead, the princess was merely sitting.

Still.

Silent.

Cradling the tiny orange kitten, Leon, in her arms, Y/N gazed downward, her expression distant. She absentmindedly stroked the kitten’s fur, but her usual lighthearted energy was gone. No laughter. No soft humming. No elegant movements that mesmerized him beyond reason.

That was unlike her.

A frown tugged at Pero’s lips as he took a step forward. William caught the motion and smirked knowingly, nudging him in the ribs.

“You’re headed straight for trouble, mate.” William murmured under his breath.

Pero shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

The Irishman chuckled but let him go.

As the Spaniard approached the fountain, the eldest princess didn’t even notice him at first. Her fingers still ran gently through Leon’s fur, her eyes unfocused. The kitten let out a soft purr, curling deeper into her arms, sensing its owner’s unease.

Pero cleared his throat. “No dancing today, princesa?”

Y/N blinked, as if only now realizing she had company. She turned her head to look at him, offering a small, forced smile. “Ah… I suppose not.”

The mercenary studied her closely. The princess he had come to know, the one who danced as if the world itself was her stage, the one who was fearless and full of fire, was not the woman sitting before him now. “You are troubled.” He stated gruffly, sitting down beside her on the stone bench.

She let out a soft sigh. “Is it that obvious?”

Pero shrugged. “You do not hide things as well as you think.”

The princess chuckled weakly at that, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. She glanced down at Leon, who gave a tiny meow in response. “It’s just…” She hesitated, then inhaled deeply. “It’s my father. The announcement last night. About my betrothal.”

Pero tensed slightly but kept his expression unreadable. “Ah…”

Y/N traced circles on Leon’s soft fur, her voice quieter now. “I knew this day would come eventually. I always did. As a princess, I understand my duty. Marrying well means securing alliances, strengthening the kingdom… making my father proud.” She exhaled sharply. “But why does it feel like I’m losing something?”

The Spaniard didn’t answer immediately. He watched her, the way her hands trembled slightly as she held Leon closer, the way her brows furrowed in deep thought. Finally, he muttered, “Because you are not choosing.”

She turned to him, eyes widening just a fraction.

He met her gaze, his voice steady but firm. “A woman like you, one who dances like the wind, who moves without chains, you were not meant to be caged.” He leaned back, arms crossed, glancing at the gardens. “And now they tell you that you must belong to someone. Some nobleman with soft hands and empty words.” His lips curled slightly, as if the thought disgusted him. “No wonder you are troubled.”

Y/N stared at him, a strange fluttering in her chest. He was right. That was exactly how she felt. She had spent her whole life cherishing her freedom, the ability to dance wherever she pleased, to lose herself in the music, to defy the expectations of what a princess should be. And now, in just a few days’ time, she would be forced to stand in a ballroom filled with men she did not know, expected to smile, to charm, to let them fight over the right to claim her.

Her fingers tightened around Leon. “I don’t want to be claimed.” She whispered, more to herself than to him.

Pero’s eyes darkened slightly at her words. His hand twitched at his side, but he kept it firmly in his lap, resisting the urge to reach for her. Instead, he simply muttered. “Then don’t be.”

Y/N turned to him fully now, searching his face. “But how? I can’t just defy my father. I can’t…”

“You are a princesa, sí.” Pero interrupted, voice rough. “But you are also you.” His gaze locked onto hers, steady and unwavering. “That means you still have a choice.”

For a moment, they simply stared at each other.

The air between them felt heavier now, charged with something unspoken. The Spaniard had never been a man of soft words or grand gestures, but the intensity in his voice, the conviction in his gaze, it struck something deep within her. 

Leon meowed again, breaking the moment. Princess Y/N blinked, looking down at the tiny kitten curled against her chest. “I suppose… I just need to figure out what I want.” She murmured.

Pero exhaled, leaning back against the bench once more. “That would be a good start.”

A small, genuine smile finally touched the princess’ lips. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “You know… you’re a lot wiser than you let on, Ser Pero Tovar.”

He snorted. “Don’t let Garin hear you say that. He’ll never let me live it down.”

She laughed softly, and for the first time since the night before, the weight on her chest felt just a little lighter. And as the afternoon sun warmed them both, neither of them noticed the way William Garin watched from a distance, his arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips.

He had seen many things in his time as a soldier. Battles. Wars. Death.

But watching a hardened warrior and a princess share a quiet moment by the fountain?

Now that was something new.

-----

The golden afternoon light bathed the garden in a soft glow, casting long shadows over the marble fountain where Princess Y/N Lovelei sat, still troubled by the weight of her father’s announcement. Pero Tovar remained beside her, watching as she absentmindedly stroked the small orange kitten nestled in her arms.

He had never been the kind of man to offer words of comfort, his way had always been through action. And right now, he could not bear to see the fire in her eyes dimmed by doubt and duty.

With a quiet sigh, he reached forward, his calloused hands gently cradling hers. She gasped softly at the warmth of his touch, her gaze lifting to meet his. Pero’s grip was firm, yet careful, as though he feared he might break something delicate. “Enough of this sorrow.” He muttered gruffly, lifting Leon from her arms. The tiny kitten gave a sleepy meow as Pero set him down on the stone bench beside them. “You think too much, princesa.”

The princess blinked in confusion. “I…”

Before she could protest, the Spaniard stood, keeping his hold on her hands as he gently but insistently pulled her to her feet. She stumbled slightly in surprise, but his strength steadied her.

“Teach me.” He said simply.

She frowned. “Teach you what?”

Pero smirked, tilting his head. “Your dance.”

Y/N’s lips parted in shock. “You… want to learn ballet?”

He huffed, looking away for a moment. “It is not for me.” He admitted. “It is for you. If dancing is what makes you feel free, then do it.” His deep brown eyes met hers again, sincere and unwavering. “Dance with me, princesa.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

For a long moment, she just stared at him, her mind still caught in the worries of noblemen and forced betrothals. But then, something inside her shifted. A spark. A reminder that she was still her. And if she was to be married off soon, why not steal a moment of happiness for herself now? A smile, soft but real, curled on her lips. “Alright, Ser Pero Tovar.” She said, stepping closer. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you.”

He snorted. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Princess Y/N giggled, then carefully took his rough hand and guided it to her waist. Pero stiffened slightly at the contact but didn’t pull away. With her other hand, she laced her fingers with his, leading him into position. Leon let out a tiny meow from his spot on the bench, his fluffy tail curling around himself as he watched them with wide, curious eyes.

“Relax…” The princess murmured, glancing up at Pero’s tense expression. “This isn’t a battlefield.”

The mercenary exhaled sharply through his nose. “Feels like one.”

She laughed, her voice light and melodious. “Then follow my lead, soldier.”

And so, they began to move.

At first, Pero’s steps were clumsy, his heavy boots not suited for the delicate, fluid movements of a ballet waltz. But Y/N was patient, gently correcting him with a touch here, a whispered instruction there. Slowly, his movements grew more confident. His grip on her waist firmed, and as they twirled beneath the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, he found himself mesmerized by the way she smiled, free and radiant, as if all her worries had melted away. The princess spun, her gown billowing around her, and he caught her easily, pulling her back into his arms. 

Their eyes met, and for a brief, fleeting second, the world around them disappeared.

There was no kingdom. No arranged marriage. No duty.

Only them.

Dancing to their hearts’ content, beneath the golden light of the afternoon.

And as Leon purred from the bench, watching his new owner twirl in the arms of a gruff soldier, it seemed even the little kitten approved.

The garden was alive with the soft rustling of leaves and the faint chirping of birds, but all else seemed to fade as Y/N Lovelei and Pero Tovar danced in perfect harmony around the marble fountain. Their movements were fluid, her light and graceful, his sturdy yet surprisingly gentle. With each twirl, the princess’s pink gown flared like the petals of a blooming rose, and her braided hair caught the evening light like spun sunlight.

The moment was nothing short of magical.

Unbeknownst to them, a dozen pairs of eyes had fallen upon the scene.

Hidden among the hedges, the other eleven princesses had been enjoying their own hobbies, embroidering, reading, painting, and playing music, when the sight of their eldest sister waltzing with a certain rugged soldier caught their attention. One by one, they set their activities aside, gathering at the garden’s edge, their eyes widening in awe.

"Would you look at that…" Ashlyn whispered, pressing a hand to her chest. "She looks like she just stepped out of a fairytale novel."

"Who knew Ser Pero Tovar could be so... graceful?" Delia giggled, her gaze flickering between the dancing pair and the man’s usual gruff demeanor.

"Not me." Hadley whispered in disbelief. "But just look at him! He’s actually smiling!"

Indeed, Pero Tovar, battle-worn and ever-stoic, had a rare softness to his expression. Though he lacked the natural elegance their eldest sister possessed, his steps were sure, his hands steady as he spun her in time with the silent rhythm they had created together. And when she laughed, the sound bright and carefree, he looked down at her with something close to admiration.

"Do you think he’s fallen for her?" Janessa murmured, leaning toward Isla, who simply smirked.

"Do you even have to ask?" Isla replied knowingly.

At that moment, a familiar voice joined them.

“Now, this is a sight I never thought I’d live to see.”

The princesses turned to find William Garin standing a few paces behind them, arms crossed, a grin tugging at his lips as he observed the pair dancing before them. His usual teasing was absent, replaced instead with genuine amusement and perhaps a hint of pride. “Pero Tovar…” The Irishman mused, shaking his head. “The same man who grumbles at the idea of etiquette lessons is now twirling a princess like he was born to do it. Unbelievable.”

"You’re surprised?" Lacey raised a brow. "I thought you knew him best."

William chuckled. "Oh, I know Pero better than most, which is exactly why I’m so surprised. That man avoids softness like the plague. And yet..." He gestured toward them, his smirk deepening. "Look at him now."

The princesses exchanged knowing glances, hearts swelling at the sight of their sister lost in a dance she never expected to share with someone like Pero Tovar.

Princess Y/N, oblivious to her audience, was utterly captivated by the man guiding her through the steps. Though she had led him at first, now it felt as though they moved together in perfect unison. "See?" She murmured, breathless. "I told you I wouldn’t go easy on you."

Pero huffed, but there was no irritation in his voice. "You’re enjoying this too much, princesa."

She only laughed in response, and as Pero spun her once more under the golden evening light, something unspoken passed between them. A connection neither had sought, yet neither could deny.

And from the bushes, the other 11 princesses, and even William Garin, watched with knowing smiles.

Love had taken its first steps in the form of a waltz beneath the setting sun.

-----

The evening air was cool against Princess Y/N’s flushed cheeks as she and Pero Tovar walked side by side toward the castle. The day had been nothing short of magical, from the way he had effortlessly lifted her spirits to the dance they had shared under the golden glow of the setting sun.

Y/N found herself smiling fondly, a warmth settling in her chest as she glanced up at the rugged soldier. He had surprised her in more ways than one, and for that, she was grateful. Stopping in her tracks, she turned to face him. “Ser Pero…” She said softly.

He arched a brow at her sudden pause. “Hmm?”

“Thank you.” She murmured, stepping closer. “For cheering me up. For dancing with me. For everything.” Before Pero could respond, Y/N leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Pero Tovar, warrior, mercenary, a man who had faced countless battles without flinching, found himself completely caught off guard. His body went rigid, his breath hitching ever so slightly. For a fleeting moment, his mind went blank, save for the warmth of her lips against his rough skin. By the time he managed to compose himself, Princess Y/N had already taken a step back, a shy yet amused smile playing on her lips. Pero cleared his throat, shifting slightly as if to shake off the unfamiliar fluttering in his chest. “We should get back.” He muttered. “Dinner is almost ready.”

The eldest princess giggled at his flustered state but nodded in agreement. “Yes, let’s…” Before she could take another step, her foot faltered, her balance slipping beneath her. Pero reacted instantly, reaching out to catch her before she could stumble to the ground.

"Are you alright?" He asked, steadying her by the waist.

Y/N, however, didn’t respond right away. Her gaze had dropped to her feet, her breath catching as she noticed the cause of her misstep. Her dancing slippers, the very pair her mother had gifted her before she passed away, had been damaged. The delicate satin was torn, the sole cracked from the countless steps she had taken that day.

A sharp pang twisted in her chest.

“No...” She whispered, her voice barely audible.

Pero watched as her fingers trembled, carefully lifting the ruined slipper as if it were something fragile, something irreplaceable. Her soft gentle eyes shone with unshed tears, and his chest tightened at the sight. He didn’t know much about princesses or their treasures, but he understood loss. “Y/N…” He said softly, drawing her attention back to him.

She blinked up at him, her expression filled with sorrow. “It was my mother’s gift.” She admitted in a small voice. “The last thing she ever gave me before she passed.”

The weight of her words settled between them.

Pero remained silent for a moment before, with surprising gentleness, he reached out and brushed a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

“We will fix it.” He said simply, his tone firm with quiet certainty.

The princess searched his gaze, surprised by the conviction in his voice.

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to.” He interrupted, his voice rough yet sincere. “You are not alone in this.” For a man who had spent his life believing in little more than survival and battle, it was a strange thing to offer comfort. But looking at her now, with the moonlight casting a soft glow upon her sorrowful expression, Pero Tovar knew one thing for certain…

He wanted to see her smile again.

And he would make sure her beloved slipper was restored, no matter what it took.

-----

The night had settled over Castle Lovelei, the halls quiet save for the occasional flicker of torchlight casting shadows along the stone walls. While the rest of the castle’s inhabitants had retired for the night, Pero Tovar remained awake, seated at a small wooden table in his quarters.

Before him lay Princess Y/N Lovelei’s broken dancing slipper.

With calloused fingers, he carefully examined the torn satin and cracked sole, his brows furrowed in concentration. He had never repaired something so delicate before, armor, weapons, even stitching up wounds, yes, but a slipper meant for a princess? That was uncharted territory.

Still, he found himself determined.

His fingers traced the worn fabric, recalling the sadness in the princess’ eyes when she realized her beloved gift from her mother had been damaged. He had never seen her look so heartbroken before, and for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, the sight of it had unsettled him deeply. Just as he was about to thread a needle, the door creaked open.

“Now this…” Came William Garin’s amused voice. “...is a sight I never thought I’d see.”

Pero didn’t bother looking up. “If you have nothing useful to say, go away.”

William stepped further into the room, arms crossed as he smirked down at his companion. “Sewing slippers now, are we? Didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”

The Spaniard scowled, but his hands remained steady as he continued working on the delicate fabric. “It’s not sentiment.” He muttered. “It’s fixing something important to her.”

The Irishman scoffed, plopping down onto a nearby chair. “Right. And I suppose it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re helplessly in love with the dancing princess?”

At that, Pero finally looked up.

And to William’s utter surprise, the older soldier didn’t scoff or dismiss the accusation. He simply exhaled through his nose, his expression softening ever so slightly as he glanced back down at the slipper in his hands. “Someone like her…” Pero said, voice quieter than usual. “...is easy to love.”

The blonde mercenary blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the rare honesty in his friend’s voice.

The Spaniard continued, his tone more certain now. “She is strong, kind, and full of life. She makes the world brighter just by being in it.” He paused, his fingers tracing the stitching he had just finished. “She deserves good things. This slipper… it’s just one of them.”

For a long moment, William simply stared at him. He had known Pero Tovar for years, had fought alongside him, endured battles and hardships side by side. Never once had he heard the man speak so openly, so genuinely, about someone else. With a slow grin, he leaned back in his chair. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Pero shot him a warning look. “Not a word to anyone.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” William said with a chuckle. “I’ll let the princess figure it out herself.”

The Spaniard rolled his eyes, returning his focus to the slipper. He had a long night ahead of him, but as he carefully worked to restore the precious gift, he didn’t mind in the slightest. Because if it meant seeing Y/N Lovelei smile again, if it meant keeping even the smallest piece of her happiness intact, then Pero Tovar would gladly spend his nights stitching silk and mending broken things.

-----

The morning sunlight bathed Castle Lovelei’s gardens in a warm golden glow. The 12 princesses were scattered across the vibrant landscape, engaged in their daily studies and pastimes. Some were gathered beneath the shady oaks, flipping through pages of old tomes, while others sat in clusters, embroidering intricate patterns onto silken fabric.

But Princess Y/N Lovelei remained by the garden fountains, her usual joy dulled by the absence of her dancing. She sighed, cradling little Leon in her lap as the orange kitten purred against her touch. “What am I to do with myself, Leon?” She murmured, absentmindedly stroking his fluffy ears. “I feel restless just sitting here.” The tiny creature meowed as if in sympathy, curling closer against her.

Just then, the sound of footsteps crunching along the stone pathway caught her attention. She looked up to find Pero Tovar approaching with a confident stride, his expression unreadable. In his hands, he held something wrapped in a fine cloth.

The princess blinked in curiosity as he stopped before her.

“Stand up, princesa,” Pero said, his voice gruff yet warm.

She arched a delicate brow but complied, gently setting Leon down on the bench. As soon as she was on her feet, Pero slowly unwrapped the cloth, revealing…

Her eyes widened.

“My dancing shoes…” She breathed, her voice laced with astonishment. The once-damaged slippers now looked nearly brand new. The satin was smooth, the stitching strong, the sole reinforced. Every tear had been carefully mended with such precision that it was as if they had never been broken in the first place. Her lips parted in shock before they stretched into a radiant, beaming smile.

“Ser Pero…” She gasped, her hands fluttering to her chest. “You…you fixed them?”

Pero smirked at her reaction, holding the slippers out to her. “I told you I could fix broken things.”

Without thinking, Y/N launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders in a warm embrace. “Thank you.” She murmured against him, her voice rich with genuine gratitude. “Thank you so much, Ser Pero.”

For a moment, the Spaniard stiffened, caught off guard by the affectionate gesture. But as her warmth seeped into him, he slowly brought a hand up, hesitantly resting it against the small of her back. It was brief, but it was enough.

When the eldest princess pulled away, her cheeks were tinged with a soft pink. Pero cleared his throat and looked away for a moment before motioning toward the bench. “Sit.” He instructed, his voice softer now. “Let me put them on you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her flustered expression deepening. “O-Oh…” She stammered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to…” He interrupted simply, his dark eyes steady as they met hers. Something in his gaze left her breathless. Without another word, she sat back down, smoothing out her skirts as Pero knelt before her. His large hands were surprisingly gentle as he slid the first slipper onto her foot, adjusting the fit with careful precision. His fingertips brushed against her ankle, and she bit the inside of her cheek to suppress the shiver that threatened to race up her spine.

Pero, on the other hand, found himself oddly nervous, a rare feeling for him. He had fought battles, faced death countless times, yet somehow, helping the princess put on her dancing slippers felt like the most delicate, nerve-wracking task he had ever done. He moved on to the second shoe, securing it just as carefully before finally pulling back. “Try them.” He murmured.

Princess Y/N hesitated for only a moment before gracefully rising to her feet. She took a deep breath and stood on the tips of her toes, testing the repaired slippers. A bright laugh bubbled from her lips as she twirled once, then twice, pure delight shining in her gentle eyes. “They’re perfect!” She exclaimed, spinning in effortless circles. “They feel even better than before!”

The Spaniard remained where he was, watching her with quiet admiration. The way she moved, so free, so full of life, left him completely mesmerized.

Leon meowed from the bench as if agreeing.

Finally, Y/N stopped twirling and turned back to Pero, her expression softer now. She reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly. “You truly are my hero, Ser Pero Tovar.”

The words sent an unfamiliar warmth spreading through Pero’s chest. He squeezed her hand back, a small, rare smile playing on his lips. “Anytime, princesa.” He murmured.

And as the golden sunlight bathed them in its glow, he realized that there was nothing in this world he wouldn’t do to keep that smile on her face.

-----

A few moments later, Pero sat on the stone bench, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching in silence as Princess Y/N danced to her heart’s content once again. The repaired slippers he had painstakingly mended now carried her with effortless grace across the smooth stone pavement of the garden fountains. The princess was radiant, bathed in the golden hues of the afternoon sun, her hair catching the light as she twirled and leaped with all the elegance of a bird in flight. Every movement was precise yet free, controlled yet full of joy. It was as if the world around her ceased to exist whenever she danced.

On his lap, little Leon purred contentedly, curled into a tiny ball of soft orange fluff. Pero absently ran his calloused fingers through the kitten’s fur, but his eyes never left Y/N.

Gods, she looked beautiful.

He had thought it before, many times, in fact, but now, watching her move with such effortless grace, the words echoed louder in his mind. She was enchanting, utterly mesmerizing.

His little dancing princess.

The thought made something in his chest tighten. It was dangerous, the way he was feeling. Pero had always been a man who kept his heart guarded, unwilling to let anyone in. He had seen too much, lost too much. But Y/N… she had slipped through the cracks without him even realizing it. She twirled again, her arms outstretched, her expression alight with joy. And then, as if sensing his gaze, she suddenly stopped and turned toward him.

Her gentle eyes locked onto his, and a slow, warm smile spread across her lips. “Am I tiring you yet?” She teased, slightly breathless from all the movement.

The Spaniard smirked, shaking his head. “Not at all, princesa. You could dance all day, and I wouldn’t look away.”

Princess Y/N’s flustered slightly at his words, but she hid it behind a soft laugh. She made her way toward him, her skirts swaying around her ankles as she stopped just before the bench. “And what about you, Sir Tovar?” She asked playfully. “Are you not tempted to join me for another dance?”

Pero chuckled, shifting slightly in his seat. “I think I’ve done enough twirling for a lifetime.”

She pouted dramatically. “Such a shame…” She sighed. “I was hoping to teach you a few more steps.”

He tilted his head, amusement twinkling in his dark eyes. “Is that so?”

She nodded, stepping closer, her hands lightly clasped in front of her. “But I suppose I’ll have to be content knowing that you were the reason I’m able to dance again.”

At this, the Spaniard fell silent. He wasn’t a man who sought gratitude, nor was he accustomed to being someone’s source of happiness. But hearing her say it, seeing the way she looked at him with such warmth and sincerity, it made something shift inside him.

Leon let out a tiny meow, stretching lazily in Pero’s lap before hopping off to chase a butterfly nearby. Y/N giggled at the sight, but her attention quickly returned to Pero as she reached out a delicate hand. “Come…” She said softly. “Just one dance. No twirling required.”

Pero sighed dramatically but took her hand nonetheless. “You are impossible, princesa.”

She only grinned as she pulled him to his feet. “And yet, you still indulge me.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

And as she guided his hands into place, as they swayed together beneath the golden afternoon sun, Pero realized he wouldn’t have it any other way.

After some time, the late afternoon sun soon casted golden streaks across the garden fountains as Pero Tovar found himself once again caught in the arms of Princess Y/N Lovelei. His hands rested firmly at her waist, her delicate fingers laced through his as they swayed in perfect harmony. The world around them faded into nothingness, there was only the gentle rustling of leaves, the distant chirping of birds, and the soft rhythm of their shared breath.

Y/N smiled up at him, her gentle eyes glistening with a warmth that made his heart ache in the best possible way. “You’re getting better.” She teased.

Pero smirked, tightening his hold on her slightly. “I think I’ve had a good teacher.”

She laughed, the sound light and airy, like a melody carried by the wind. They moved together effortlessly, each step guiding them around the stone pavement surrounding the fountains. The soft splashing of water and the rustling of her skirts against the ground only added to the magic of the moment.

He wasn’t a man of grace, he was a warrior, a man whose hands were more accustomed to wielding weapons than holding something as delicate as she was. And yet, in her presence, with her guiding him through every motion, he felt lighter, as if the weight he always carried had somehow lessened.

The dance slowed, and the princess’ movements became gentler, drawing them to a close. The Spaniard followed her lead, unwilling to let go just yet. As their steps stilled, their bodies remained close, chests rising and falling in sync as they caught their breath.

And then, without thinking, Pero rested his forehead against hers. The space between them disappeared, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as if time had stopped. Y/N’s breath was warm against his skin, and he could feel the slight tremble in her fingers still entwined with his.

He could kiss her.

The thought struck him hard, so sudden and overwhelming that it nearly stole his breath away. She was right there, so close, so beautiful, her lips slightly parted as if waiting.

But he knew he shouldn’t.

As much as he wanted to, as much as every part of him ached to claim her lips, Pero held back. He wasn’t a nobleman. He wasn’t someone who could offer her the kind of life she deserved. She was a princess, and he was merely a soldier, a man who had seen too much bloodshed and darkness.

And yet…

He closed his eyes and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead instead.

Princess Y/N sighed softly at the touch, leaning into him with a smile that was just as bright as the golden glow surrounding them. She didn’t seem disappointed, in fact, she looked completely at peace. “Thank you.” She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Pero pulled back slightly, his hands still resting at her waist. “For what, princesa?”

“For this…” She said simply, her gaze filled with an affection that made his heart pound.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. Instead, he simply held her for a moment longer, memorizing the warmth of her in his arms. Because if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that this dance, this moment, was one worth remembering.

-----

The grand dressing chambers of the twelve princesses were filled with the soft rustling of silk nightgowns and the occasional giggle as they prepared for bed. The flickering glow of candlelight cast golden hues across the room, illuminating each sister as they brushed their hair in front of their respective vanity mirrors and whispered about the day's events.

But it was their eldest sister, Y/N Lovelei, who caught everyone's attention that night. Seated before her vanity, she hummed a soft melody while running a brush through her long locks. There was an unmistakable dreamy look in her gentle eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips as though she were lost in another world entirely.

Her younger sisters exchanged knowing glances.

“She’s doing it again.” Ashlyn, the second eldest, whispered with a grin, leaning closer to the others.

“Doing what?” Hadley, always eager to tease, smirked.

“Dreaming about him, obviously.” Delia chimed in, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Y/N, unaware, or perhaps purposefully ignoring them, continued brushing her hair, the tune of her hum growing even sweeter.

Fallon, the most gentle among them, tilted her head curiously. “Do you think she’s in love?”

“In love?” Edeline gasped dramatically, clasping her hands over her chest. “Our big sister? The same Y/N who swore she’d never let a man take her away from dancing? Oh, how the mighty have fallen!”

At that, Y/N let out an exasperated sigh and turned toward them, slowly becoming embarrassed at their dramatic words and accusations. “I have not fallen.” She insisted, though the way her voice wavered betrayed her words.

“Then why were you dancing with Pero Tovar again today?” Edeline asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Courtney drawled playfully. “Maybe because she likes him.”

A chorus of giggles erupted, and Y/N groaned, placing her brush down in surrender. “Must you all be so insufferable?”

“Yes!” Came the unified response, sending them into another fit of laughter.

Princess Fallon, the most romantic of them all, clasped her hands together dreamily. “He is rather handsome, in a rugged sort of way.”

“Oh, most definitely.” Blair agreed. “And he dances with you, sis! You’ve never danced with anyone the way you dance with him.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest but found herself at a loss for words. Because deep down, she knew they were right. Pero Tovar was different. He was gruff, a little rough around the edges, and yet… when he held her in his arms, he was nothing but gentle. Patient. Attentive. He made her feel like the only woman in the world.

“You should have seen the way he looked at you.” Ashlyn continued, leaning against the bedpost. “Like he was utterly enchanted.”

The eldest princess exhaled softly, a warmth spreading through her chest at the memory. He had looked at her that way, hadn’t he? And when he had kissed her forehead…

She touched the spot absentmindedly, her heart fluttering. The action did not go unnoticed.

A dramatic gasp filled the room. “She’s thinking about the kiss!” Delia practically squealed.

“That wasn’t even a real kiss.” Y/N muttered, rolling her eyes, though her sisters caught the way her lips curled upward ever so slightly.

“Yet you’re still thinking about it!” Fallon teased, nudging her shoulder. “Face it, dearest sister, you are in love.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head with a laugh. “You are all impossible.”

“But you love us.” Isla chimed in, wrapping her arms around her big sister in an affectionate hug, soon followed by the rest. The eldest princess, despite her feigned exasperation, smiled as she embraced them back. Because as much as they teased, they were her sisters, the ones who knew her best.

And perhaps, just perhaps, they were right.

Maybe she really was in love.

-----

The grand castle of the Lovelei family was alive with celebration. Festive banners of deep rose, gold, and ivory adorned the halls, shimmering under the glow of countless chandeliers. The scent of fresh flowers, white lilies and pink roses filled the air, mingling with the aroma of the finest delicacies being prepared for the grand feast. Outside, the kingdom bustled with excitement, citizens gathering in the village square to join in the merriment, while inside the castle, noble guests from all corners of the land arrived, dressed in their finest attire, eager to celebrate the birthday of the beloved eldest princess, Y/N Lovelei.

But amidst all the grandeur, in the royal chambers, eleven princesses were in a flurry of motion as they fussed over their eldest sister.

“Oh, Y/N, just stay still for one more second!” Isla whined as she carefully adjusted the golden tiara atop of their eldest sister’s head.

“I am staying still.” The said princess protested with a light laugh, though she couldn’t hide the nervous flutter in her chest. Her sisters had gone to great lengths to ensure she looked absolutely perfect for her special day. Her long hair cascaded down her back, pinned with delicate pearls and adorned with a few tiny roses. Her gown was breathtaking, an elegant creation of flowing silk and lace in the deepest shade of pink, embroidered with golden threads that shimmered like sunlight. The off-the-shoulder design framed her gracefully, and the delicate crystal embellishments along the skirt sparkled with every movement, resembling the stars themselves.

“She looks stunning!” Ashlyn breathed, stepping back to admire their work.

“She looks regal!” Fallon corrected. “Like a true queen in the making.”

The eldest princess shook her head with an amused smile. “I do not intend to be queen, dear sister.”

“No, but you certainly look like one.” Courtney grinned.

Before Y/N could respond, a soft knock sounded at the door.

“Girls.” Came the familiar, deep voice of their father, King Randolph. “The guests are waiting. It is time.” The room fell silent as the door creaked open, revealing their father standing at the threshold. The moment his gaze landed on his eldest daughter, his breath caught in his throat.

She was beautiful. So beautiful.

For a fleeting moment, it was as though time had rewound, and he was seeing his late wife once more. The resemblance was uncanny, the way Y/N held herself, the grace in her posture, the warmth in her gentle eyes. She was not just a reflection of their mother’s beauty, but a testament to her strength, kindness, and spirit. Randolph’s lips parted, his eyes glistening as he stepped forward. “My darling girl…” His voice wavered slightly, betraying the overwhelming emotion in his heart. “You look… just like her.”

The sisters exchanged glances, their expressions softening at their father’s tenderness.

Y/N’s own eyes grew misty as she stepped forward, gently taking his hands in hers. “Father…”

He swallowed thickly, shaking his head with a bittersweet smile. “She would have been so proud of the woman you’ve become.”

She squeezed his hands. “I hope I’ve made you proud too.”

Randolph let out a quiet chuckle, pulling her into a warm embrace. “You always have.”

The moment was tender, filled with love and remembrance, but the sound of distant music reminded them of their duties. The celebration awaited them. Taking a deep breath, Randolph stepped back and offered his arm to his eldest daughter. “Shall we?”

Y/N nodded, placing her hand in the crook of his arm, her sisters following closely behind.

As they made their way toward the grand ballroom, the eldest princess felt her nerves return, not because of the celebration itself, but because of what it symbolized. Tonight was not just about her birthday; it was about finding a suitor. A potential husband.

Her gaze flickered across the halls, searching for a familiar figure.

Where are you, Pero?

Little did she know, just beyond the ballroom doors, a certain rugged soldier stood waiting in the shadows, his eyes solely searching for her.

Upon entering the grand ballroom of the Lovelei castle was a breathtaking sight to behold. Golden chandeliers cast a warm glow over the marbled floors, while the towering glass windows allowed the silver moonlight to mix with the soft candlelight. Elegant floral arrangements adorned every corner, the scent of roses and jasmine drifting through the air as noble guests from across the kingdom gathered in anticipation.

At the sound of the herald’s trumpet, the grand oak doors were pulled open, and the room fell silent.

“Presenting His Majesty, King Randolph of House Lovelei, and the twelve princesses of the royal family.” The steward announced, his voice echoing through the hall. All eyes turned toward the grand staircase as King Randolph led his daughters down the steps, his eldest, Y/N, on his arm. Whispers and murmurs broke out among the noblemen and princes, their gazes fixated on the eldest princess.

“She is even more beautiful than the rumors say.” “A true vision of grace.” “A wife most befitting of a future king.”

The princes in attendance, some regal, some young and ambitious, straightened their postures, eager to make an impression. The whispers grew louder, speculations swirling about who would be the fortunate man to claim the eldest princess’s hand.

Princess Y/N, however, barely paid them any mind. Though she kept her poise, her heart was restless. She knew why they were here. This was not just a celebration, it was a showcase for potential suitors. But the idea of a stranger claiming her hand felt suffocating. Her sisters, however, reveled in the attention, sharing playful glances amongst themselves as they descended the staircase.

But before any nobleman could step forward, two figures cut through the crowd. Pero Tovar and William Garin approached the Lovelei family, their presence commanding attention despite the finery that surrounded them. Their attire was more refined than usual, cleaned and well-tailored, though still practical. Pero's dark, rugged features stood in stark contrast to the delicate grandeur of the ballroom, yet his intense gaze was only fixed on one person.

The moment Y/N saw him, she felt the tension in her shoulders ease.

With a deep bow, William was the first to speak. “Your Majesty. Princesses. We are honored to celebrate this joyous occasion with you.”

Pero followed suit, bowing deeply before meeting Y/N’s gaze. “Feliz cumpleaños, princesa.” His voice was rough yet soft, his accent thick as he offered her a rare, almost shy smile. Then, to the shock of the gathered nobles, both men took the said princess’ hand in turn, pressing a respectful kiss to the back of it. The sisters stifled their giggles behind their hands, eyes gleaming with amusement.

The Spaniard then reached into his coat and pulled out something small, carefully wrapped in cloth. When he unwrapped it, a single, pristine white rose was revealed. Its petals were soft, delicate, and untouched by imperfection. “I…” He hesitated, his brows furrowing slightly. “I was at the markets earlier and saw this and it immediately made me think of you, princesa.”

A hush fell over the immediate crowd. The noblemen who had been vying for Princess Y/N’s attention now watched with wary intrigue. She, however, did not hesitate. She smiled, her eyes softening as she reached out and accepted the rose with both hands, holding it as if it were the most precious thing in the world. “It is perfect, Ser Pero.” Then, before anyone could process what was happening, the princess stepped forward and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek.

A collective gasp filled the ballroom.

Her sisters let out squeals of delight, clinging onto each other in sheer glee.

Even William raised his eyebrows in amusement, smirking as Pero’s expression froze, his face slightly tinged with red.

King Randolph, ever composed, cleared his throat and cast a stern glance toward his younger daughters, silencing their giggles.

Princess Y/N, meanwhile, stepped back, still holding the white rose close to her chest. She looked up at Pero, her voice warm and full of gratitude. “Thank you.”

The Spaniard swallowed hard, forcing himself to regain his composure. He merely nodded, his dark eyes never leaving hers.

The other noblemen shifted uncomfortably. The way the birthday princess looked at this rugged soldier, this foreign mercenary, was not how one looked at a mere guard. There was something deeper there. Something that made them uneasy.

And for the first time that night, Pero Tovar felt like the most powerful man in the room.

-----

Once Pero and William had taken their place in their designated post for tonight, Princess Y/N turned to her lady-in-waiting, her eyes shining with warmth and determination. She carefully placed the single white rose into the younger woman’s hands. “Take this to my chambers, please.” She instructed softly. “Put it in my most lavish vase, and make sure it is well cared for while I am here.”

The lady-in-waiting, though surprised by the special request, nodded respectfully. “Of course, Your Highness.” As the white rose was whisked away to be tended to, the evening festivities resumed in full splendor. The grand ballroom, already alive with music and chatter, became even more animated as noblemen and princes, emboldened by their ambitions, took their chances to approach the eldest princess.

One by one, they came forward, bowing politely and introducing themselves with rehearsed charm.

“Princess Y/N, would you grant me the honor of a dance?” One nobleman in a deep-blue tunic asked, extending his gloved hand.

Y/N, ever the gracious host, accepted with a polite smile and allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor. But the moment the music began, she knew she was in trouble. Her partner was clumsy. His steps were erratic, his grip on her waist far too tight, and worst of all, he kept stepping on her toes. She winced, though she did not voice her discomfort. It was clear that he had no sense of rhythm, nor an understanding of how to properly lead a dance.

When the song ended, the birthday princess politely excused herself and barely had time to breathe before another suitor stepped in. This one, a young duke from a neighboring land, was just as eager to impress. But the moment he pulled her in too close, his breath far too close to her ear, Y/N felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. It was suffocating. Forced. She smiled stiffly, tolerating it for the sake of diplomacy, but her heart wasn’t in it.

One dance turned into two, then three, and with each new partner, the eldest princess felt herself growing more exhausted. None of them matched her rhythm. None of them made her feel at ease.

And then…

A familiar calloused hand reached for hers.

“Princesa.”

Princess Y/N looked up, her breath catching in her throat.

Pero Tovar stood before her, the warm candlelight flickering against his rugged features. He was still dressed in his tailored formal wear, though it was clear the stiffness of it made him uncomfortable. And yet, despite his usual gruff demeanor, there was something different in his gaze. Something softer. “Dance with me?” He simply asks.

The other noblemen bristled, exchanging incredulous looks. A mercenary? A soldier? Asking for a dance with the princess? It was unheard of.

But she did not hesitate. She smiled, a genuine, radiant smile, and placed her hand in his. “I would love to.” She whispered.

A hushed murmur spread across the ballroom as Pero led Y/N toward the center of the dance floor. The nobles watched with a mix of confusion and intrigue, unsure what to expect.

Then the music began.

Unlike the previous noblemen, Pero did not fumble or step on her feet. He did not pull her too close or make her feel trapped. Instead, his movements were precise yet unhurried, his grip firm but gentle. Y/N followed his lead effortlessly, her body moving as if she were gliding on air. Then, as the melody swelled, he lifted her into a graceful twirl, one she had practiced countless times with him in her ballet routines. She gasped softly, delighted, as he spun her like she was his most precious ballerina.

The world around them faded. The murmurs, the whispers, the disapproving gazes, it all ceased to exist. At this moment, it was just them.

A soldier and his princess.

Y/N’s heart pounded as she gazed up at him. Pero, for all his rough edges, moved with a grace that surprised even her. His eyes never left hers, filled with something unspoken, something deep. And for the first time that night, no, perhaps for the first time in her life, the eldest princess felt like she was truly dancing with someone who understood her.

By the time the song ended, she was breathless.

Pero, too, was breathing heavily, yet he did not release her. His hands remained on her waist, his forehead nearly resting against hers.

Applause erupted around them, though neither seemed to notice.

All Y/N knew was that her heart was racing.

And when she looked at Pero, she could swear his was too.

-----

King Randolph Lovelei stood at the edge of the ballroom, watching the scene unfold before him with a quiet, knowing expression. His eyes followed the graceful twirls and careful steps of his eldest daughter, Y/N, as she danced with none other than Pero Tovar. The way they moved together, so seamlessly, so naturally, it was unlike any dance he had ever witnessed before.

It was intimate.

It was effortless.

And above all… it was filled with something that the King recognized immediately.

Love.

His sharp eyes caught the way Y/N gazed up at Pero, her smile tender, her hair bouncing with each spin as if she belonged nowhere else but in his arms. Likewise, Pero’s expression, usually hardened with wariness and stubbornness, had softened into something unguarded. Something reverent.

Randolph let out a breath, arms folded over his chest.

“That look…” He murmured to himself. Before he could dwell on it any longer, a giggle interrupted his thoughts. 

“Father, you’re staring.” He turned his head slightly to find his second eldest daughter, Ashlyn, standing beside him with a sly smile.

“I am merely observing.” He corrected.

“Observing Y/N and Sir Pero?” His fifth daughter, Delia, chimed in, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Randolph raised a brow. “So, you all have noticed it too, then?”

A chorus of whispers and giggles erupted from his other eleven daughters, who had gathered around him, clearly invested in the blossoming romance.

“Of course we have!” Lacey grinned.

“They’ve been sneaking glances at each other for weeks now.” Hadley added, adjusting the flowers in her hair.

“And you should have seen them in the garden yesterday.” Fallon sighed dreamily. “They were dancing by the fountains like something out of a fairytale!”

Randolph’s brow lifted slightly, glancing back toward the dance floor.

Pero had just finished twirling Y/N into a gentle dip, his arm strong around her waist as she laughed breathlessly in his hold.

He had seen that look before.

Long ago.

It was the same look he himself had worn whenever he gazed at his late wife, the love of his life. A quiet warmth spread through his chest. He could have been angry. Could have been outraged that a mere soldier, no matter how skilled, had dared to look at his daughter in such a way.

But he wasn’t.

Instead, a small, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Father?” His youngest, Lacey, asked softly.

Randolph exhaled, turning to his daughters with a wry chuckle. “So, tell me, my loves… just how long has this been going on?” The princesses gasped in delight, eager to share every little detail of what they had noticed. And as their father listened, his gaze returned to the dance floor, where Y/N and Pero remained lost in each other, utterly unaware of the rest of the world.

Yes.

He had seen that look before.

And perhaps… just perhaps… it was time to let fate take its course.

-----

The final notes of the waltz soon faded into the air, leaving only the soft rustling of fabric and the distant murmur of the ballroom. Pero Tovar held Princess Y/N close, his strong arms steady around her waist as they both caught their breaths. Her locks shimmered under the warm candlelight, her gentle eyes gazing up at him with a brightness that made his chest tighten. Her smile, radiant, genuine, filled with something he dared not name, had the mercenary completely spellbound.

He had never seen someone look at him like that before.

Like he was something to be cherished.

A man unworthy of such tenderness, yet here she was, offering it to him freely.

Y/N giggled softly, pressing a hand to his chest as she felt the rapid beating of his heart beneath his tunic. "Are you tired already, Sir Tovar?" She teased lightly, tilting her head. "Or is it something else making your heart race?"

Pero let out a breathy chuckle, his lips curling into a shy smile. He was never a man of sweet words, but with her, he found himself trying. "You…It’s because of you." He admitted gruffly, voice low, almost like a confession.

The princess’ lips soon stretched in a pretty and heart warming smile at his honesty, her fingers lightly tracing the fabric of his sleeve. Encouraged by her reaction, The Spaniard lowered his forehead to rest gently against hers. His nose brushed against hers, an intimate, fleeting touch. She let out another soft giggle, the sound filling his chest with warmth.

From the corner of his eye, Pero could see some of her sisters peeking from the crowd, their hands covering their mouths as they squealed and whispered amongst themselves. Even William, standing near the King, had an amused smirk on his face. He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head in amusement. "Your sisters are enjoying this too much." He muttered.

Y/N hummed in agreement but made no effort to move away from him. Instead, she whispered. "Let them." She then leaned in ever so slightly, her lips brushing his cheek once again, just as she had done before. The touch was fleeting, barely there, yet it sent a shiver down his spine.

The Spaniard swallowed hard, his fingers unconsciously tightening on her waist, anchoring himself. If he wasn't already hopelessly in love with her, he certainly was now.

Once their dance had come to an end, the ballroom was soon filled with cheerful laughter and applause as the grand, five-layered vanilla cake was wheeled into the center of the room. Intricately decorated with delicate sugar roses and golden embellishments, it was a masterpiece befitting a princess. It was finally time to blow the birthday cake. Princess Y/N stood at the head of the long banquet table, her family and noble guests surrounding her as the servants carefully lit the candles. The flickering glow reflected in her soft gentle eyes as everyone began singing.

"Happy birthday, dear Y/N..."

As the final note faded, the eldest princess clasped her hands together, closing her eyes for a brief moment. She made a wish in her heart before exhaling gently, blowing out the candles in one graceful breath. Applause erupted once more, and her sisters cheered enthusiastically.

"Speech, Big sis! Speech!" Lacey, the youngest, giggled, clapping her hands.

The said princess laughed softly, shaking her head. "No speech. But I will say…thank you, everyone, for making this day so special."

As tradition dictated, the birthday celebrant always had the honor of cutting the first slice and offering it to someone dear to their heart. In previous years, Y/N had always given her first slice to either her beloved father or one of her younger sisters. It was expected. 

But this year...

Her hands hesitated only for a moment before she carefully lifted a piece of cake onto a golden plate. The room fell silent, all eyes curiously watching as she turned…

And walked straight toward Pero Tovar.

The gruff soldier, who had been standing a respectable distance away, stiffened slightly when he saw her approach. His dark eyes flickered with uncertainty, but he remained still as the eldest princess stopped in front of him, holding out the plate with a warm, knowing smile.

Whispers and gasps rippled through the noble guests. Her sisters squealed in delight. Even William let out a low whistle, clearly amused.

Pero, for his part, could only stare at her, utterly dumbfounded. His calloused hands twitched at his sides, unsure of what to do.

"You are dear to me, Ser Pero." Princess Y/N said softly, so only he could hear. "And I want you to have the first slice."

His throat felt dry. He glanced briefly at King Randolph, half-expecting the man to show disapproval, but to his shock, the King merely watched with an unreadable yet gentle expression. Realizing there was no protest, the Spaniard swallowed his pride, his heart hammering in his chest as he slowly reached out, his fingers brushing hers as he accepted the plate. "Gracias, mi princesa." He murmured, voice hoarse with emotion.

Princess Y/N's smile only widened. "Happy birthday to me, then." She teased before gracefully turning back to rejoin her family, leaving Pero standing there, completely and utterly enchanted with a golden plate of cake in his hands.

-----

After the cake cutting ceremony, the ballroom continued to shimmer under the golden candlelight as the time came for the presentation of gifts. Princess Y/N Lovelei still stood at the head of the banquet hall, surrounded by her father and sisters, as noble guests eagerly stepped forward with their lavish offerings.

"From the House of Everston." A nobleman declared, bowing as his attendants revealed an ornate velvet box. Inside, a dazzling sapphire necklace rested on a bed of silk.

"From the Duchy of Norwell." Another noble presented, unveiling bolts of the finest silks, woven with gold thread.

The birthday princess accepted each gift with grace and gratitude, though she knew many of these gestures were mere attempts to gain her favor. Her heart, however, truly warmed when her family stepped forward.

Her father, King Randolph, stood before her, holding a small but exquisitely carved wooden box. "My dearest Y/N." He said, voice thick with emotion. "This belonged to your mother, and now, it belongs to you." He opened the box to reveal a breathtaking tiara, a delicate crown of gold adorned with pearls and glimmering gemstones.

Y/N's breath hitched, her fingers trembling as she reached for it. "Father..."

"You have become a woman she would have been so proud of." Randolph whispered, placing the tiara gently upon her head. Tears welled in her eyes, but before she could dwell in the moment, her eleven sisters excitedly surrounded her, each bearing their own thoughtful gifts.

"Here! I painted this for you!" Ashlyn beamed, handing over a canvas depicting their eldest sister dancing in the gardens.

"I wrote you a letter." Delia chimed in, handing over a neatly folded parchment sealed with a wax stamp.

Scarves, books, perfume bottles, intricate hair accessories, even small trinkets for little Leon, all were gifted to her with heartfelt joy.

Then came William Garin. "Happy birthday, Princess." He said with a teasing grin, presenting her with a beautifully handcrafted handheld mirror. Its silver frame was engraved with intricate floral patterns. "For someone as lovely as you, it only makes sense to have a mirror to remind you of it."

The princess laughed, shaking her head at his charm. "Thank you, William. This is beautiful."

Finally, all eyes turned to Pero Tovar. Unlike the others, he had no elaborate box, no fine silk wrapping, only a simple cloth bundle in his rough hands. He hesitated for a brief moment, before stepping forward and carefully unwrapping his gift.

A pair of ballet shoes. Hand-stitched, perfectly measured, and crafted with such care that it was clear how much time he had poured into making them.

Y/N gasped softly, her hands flying to her mouth. "Pero..."

"I made them myself…" He muttered, his gruff voice betraying a hint of nervousness. "Figured you'd want another pair, considering how much you dance."

She took the shoes reverently, running her fingers over the soft material. These weren’t just any ballet shoes. They were made specifically for her. Her heart swelled with emotion, and without hesitation, she stepped forward and threw her arms around him. "Thank you." She whispered, hugging him tightly. "I love them."

Pero stiffened for only a second before relaxing into her embrace, his large hands resting on her back.

From the sidelines, William smirked, nudging King Randolph with an amused look. "Well, if that isn't love, I don’t know what is." The King simply smiled, watching the way the Spaniard held his daughter as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

-----

The next morning after the grand birthday celebration dedicated to Princess Y/N Lovelei, the morning sun rose gently over the Lovelei Kingdom, casting golden hues through the castle windows. The grand dining hall was filled with the soft clinking of silverware as the eleven princesses sat around the long table, enjoying their morning meal.

King Randolph took his usual seat at the head of the table, sipping his tea as he glanced toward the empty chair where his eldest daughter should have been.

It was not unusual for Y/N to be late, her love for dancing often made her lose track of time. But missing breakfast entirely? That was something new. The answer to her absence, however, was made obvious by the small orange bundle curled up on her chair. Little Leon sat proudly in the eldest princess’ place, his tiny tail swaying as he waited expectantly for his own meal to be prepared. One of the maids dutifully set down a small plate of fresh fish before him, which he sniffed at before letting out a soft meow of approval.

"She’s in the gardens again, isn’t she?" Princess Janessa, mused aloud.

"Of course…" Princess Ashlyn chuckled. "You saw how she was last night, practically glowing after Ser Pero gave her those new ballet shoes." At the mention of the soldier’s name, a few of the sisters giggled knowingly.

King Randolph listened quietly, a small smile forming on his lips. He was no fool, he had seen the way Y/N and Pero looked at each other. A man like Pero Tovar, hardened by war and the burdens of life, gazing at his daughter as though she were the brightest star in the sky. And Y/N, though full of grace and independence, allows herself to be vulnerable in his presence.

Love was brewing between them, and it was clear to anyone paying attention.

With a sigh, King Randolph set down his teacup. "If she wishes to dance, then let her." He said fondly. "She has always followed her heart, and I will not be the one to stop her now." The sisters exchanged knowing smiles before continuing their meal, while Little Leon finished his breakfast and stretched lazily, ready to return to his beloved owner.

Meanwhile, in the garden fountains, Princess Y/N was already lost in her world of movement.

The soft rustling of leaves, the distant chirping of birds, and the gentle flow of water from the fountains all served as the perfect symphony to accompany her steps. She spun effortlessly on the tips of her toes, her long hair flowing behind her, catching the morning sunlight like strands of gold. Her new ballet shoes felt weightless against the cobbled stone, fitting her feet as though they had been crafted by the heavens themselves. Her heart swelled with joy. Pero had made these for her. Every stitch, every detail, it had all come from his hands.

And she would dance for him.

She closed her eyes, letting herself move with complete freedom, imagining his warm brown eyes watching her. But what she did not realize was that her imagination was not far from reality.

Standing by the garden’s entrance, leaning against a stone pillar with his arms crossed, was Pero Tovar. He had come outside in search of some peace and quiet, only to find himself unable to move, unable to look away as he watched her.

God, she was beautiful. 

His beautiful little dancing princess.

-----

The morning sun spilled golden light through the towering stained-glass windows of Lovelei Castle, casting vibrant hues across the grand dining hall. Pero Tovar sat stiffly in a high-backed chair, feeling entirely out of place in the elegant setting. Before him, the long, polished mahogany table was set with delicate porcelain teacups, a gleaming silver tray of pastries, and a steaming pot of tea with the royal insignia etched into its side. Across from him, King Randolph Lovelei sat with an air of quiet authority, his hands folded atop the table. His eyes, aged yet sharp, studied him with an expression that the soldier couldn’t quite read.

The Spaniard had faced death countless times before. He had fought off monstrous beasts on the Great Wall, stood against armies of men far stronger than himself, and had survived the cruelest of battles. But somehow, none of that compared to the sheer weight pressing on his chest as he sat across from Princess Y/N’s father.

A servant poured their tea, the clink of china the only sound filling the heavy silence. Then at last, King Randolph spoke. “Tell me, Ser Pero Tovar.” The king said, his voice calm yet firm. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

The question nearly made Pero choke on his tea. He swallowed thickly, setting his cup down with a clatter before wiping his palms against his trousers. There was no point in lying. He was a man of many things, some good, some bad, but he was not one to dance around the truth. He would rather face this head-on. Taking a steadying breath, he looked the king in the eye. “I love her.”

The words were gruff, spoken with raw sincerity. “I love her more than I have ever loved anything in this world.”

King Randolph remained silent, watching him intently.

Pero exhaled, running a hand over his beard before continuing. “I know what I am. I’m a soldier. A mercenary. A man who has lived his life by the sword, not by courtly manners or noble titles. She is a princess, royal, graceful, and far too good for the likes of me.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “That is why I haven’t told her how I feel. Because… what right do I have to love someone like her?”

For a moment, the room was still.

Then, unexpectedly, the king let out a soft chuckle.

The Spaniard blinked, caught off guard.

“You remind me of myself when I was younger.” King Randolph mused, taking a sip of his tea. “When I fell in love with my daughters’ mother, she was a noblewoman of the highest standing. And I? I was only the second son of a lesser king, a man not meant for the throne.” He smiled faintly, lost in memory. “I, too, believed I was unworthy of her. But do you know what she told me?”

The mercenary shook his head, listening intently.

“She said that love is not a matter of status or birthright.” The king continued. “It is a choice. A bond. And it is one that Y/N should be allowed to make for herself.”

Pero sat still, his heart pounding at the king’s words.

“I have watched you, Ser Pero.” Randolph said, his expression softening. “I have seen the way my daughter looks at you, and the way you look at her. If I had any doubt that your feelings were not true, we would not be having this conversation.”

The Spaniard swallowed, feeling an unfamiliar tightness in his chest.

“Do you wish to be with her?” The king asked, his tone quieter now, but no less serious.

“…More than anything.” Pero softly admitted.

King Randolph nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Then, with a small, knowing smile, he added, “Then perhaps it is time you tell her.”

Pero’s breath hitched. He had faced many battles, but this, confessing his feelings to Princess Y/N, felt like the greatest challenge of all. Still, as he looked at the king, seeing the understanding in his eyes, a flicker of hope began to bloom in his chest.

Perhaps, just perhaps, he was worthy of her love after all.

-----

The warm glow of the afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows of King Randolph Lovelei’s study, casting golden light upon the grand chessboard that sat between him and his eldest daughter. The air was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fireplace and the soft clink of chess pieces being moved across the board.

Princess Y/N, perched elegantly on her seat, studied the game with unwavering focus. Her long, golden hair cascaded down her back, a few strands falling over her shoulder as she pondered her next move. She had always loved these moments with her father, these quiet games of wit and strategy where words were not needed, yet so much could be conveyed.

But today, something felt different.

King Randolph leaned back in his chair, an amused glint in his eyes as he regarded his daughter. “You seem distracted, my dear.”

Y/N blinked, quickly moving a bishop across the board. “Not at all, Father.”

The king chuckled, stroking his beard. “Oh? So I suppose it was a mere coincidence that you just sacrificed your knight so recklessly?”

She stiffened, only now realizing her mistake. Her father rarely called out her errors, unless, of course, he had an ulterior motive. The princess sighed, rubbing her temples before glancing at her father with mild suspicion. “You did not call me here just for a game of chess, did you?”

King Randolph smiled knowingly. “No, I did not.” He carefully moved his queen forward. “Tell me, Y/N… what do you think of Pero Tovar?”

The princess’ hand froze just as she was about to reach for her rook. Her heart skipped a beat, embarrassment began filling her chest. “P-Pero?” She stammered, clearing her throat. “What about him?”

The king rested his chin upon his hand, studying her intently. “He is an interesting man, wouldn’t you say? Rough around the edges, but loyal. And quite taken with you, it seems.”

Y/N immediately widens her eyes at his implications. “Father!”

“What?” King Randolph chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the rare sight of his poised and graceful daughter becoming so flustered. “I merely observed how he watches you, how he follows you into those gardens of yours without hesitation. It is quite the sight, really.”

The eldest princess quickly busied herself by adjusting one of her chess pieces, avoiding her father’s gaze. She knew she could not lie to him. He had always seen through her easily.

“…He is a good man.” She admitted quietly. “Far better than he believes himself to be.”

The king hummed, seemingly pleased with her answer. “And do you care for him?”

She hesitated, her fingers lightly tracing the edges of the rook she was about to move. Then, with a soft, almost wistful smile, she whispered, “Yes.”

King Randolph’s gaze softened. He had suspected as much, but hearing the confirmation from her own lips filled him with a strange sense of both pride and nostalgia. “You know, my dear.” He said, moving his king to safety. “Your mother once told me that love is not something dictated by blood or birthright, it is a bond, a choice.” He met her gaze. “I have seen the way you look at him. And if he is the one who makes your heart dance, then you should not let anything stand in your way.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. Her father had always encouraged her freedom, but to hear him speak so openly about her feelings left her overwhelmed. “…What if he does not feel the same?” She asked, almost afraid of the answer.

King Randolph smiled, eyes twinkling with quiet amusement. “Oh, I would not worry about that.”

The princess frowned slightly, sensing something unsaid in his words. “What do you mean?”

The king simply moved his final piece and leaned back in satisfaction.

“Checkmate.”

-----

The afternoon sun bathed the Lovelei Castle gardens in a warm golden hue, casting shimmering reflections upon the clear waters of the grand fountain. A gentle breeze carried the soft fragrance of blooming roses and fresh earth, making the entire scene feel like something out of a dream.

Princess Y/N Lovelei sat gracefully at the fountain’s edge, her fingers delicately fastening the satin ribbons of the ballet shoes Pero Tovar had gifted her on her birthday. The shoes fit perfectly, molding to her feet like they were made just for her, which, in truth, they were. With a deep breath, she rose to her feet and took her place in the center of the stone platform that extended over the water. The moment she stepped into position, all thoughts melted away. There was only the rhythm of her heartbeat, the soft whisper of the wind, and the memory of countless dances before this one.

And so, she began to move.

Her body twisted and flowed like water, each movement an effortless extension of her soul. She leaped, spun, and twirled, her dress billowing like the petals of a flower in full bloom. The ribbons of her new ballet shoes trailed behind her, painting invisible strokes against the air.

It was only when she landed from a particularly graceful spin that she noticed him.

Standing at the garden’s archway, arms crossed over his broad chest, was Pero Tovar. His dark eyes were locked onto her, admiration clear in their depths. He said nothing, but his expression spoke volumes.

Y/N felt a warm smile spread across her face. Without hesitation, she extended her hand toward him, an unspoken invitation hanging in the air between them.

For a brief moment, Pero hesitated. He always felt out of place in such an elegant world, especially in hers. But the way she looked at him, as though he belonged here just as much as she did, made it impossible to refuse.

With a deep exhale, he strode forward.

The eldest princess’ heart fluttered as he reached for her hand, his rough, calloused fingers wrapping around hers with surprising gentleness. She gave him a reassuring squeeze before guiding him onto the platform.

He knew the steps well by now, after all, she had spent countless afternoons teaching him. Pero might not have been the most refined dancer, but he always caught her when she twirled, always following her lead with unwavering trust.

And so they danced.

The Spaniard spun the princess effortlessly, and she laughed as he lifted her slightly off the ground before letting her feet touch the stone once more. Their movements were not perfect, but together, they created something beautiful. Something uniquely theirs.

As the dance slowed, Y/N found herself pressed close against Pero’s chest, his arms securely wrapped around her waist. Their breaths were heavy, but neither pulled away.

“You wear them well.” Pero finally murmured, his voice rough yet filled with something soft. His gaze flickered down to her ballet shoes.

She tilted her head, smiling up at him. “I treasure them.”

Their eyes met, and in that moment, it felt as though the entire world had faded away, leaving only the two of them beneath the golden afternoon sky. The world around them stilled. The gentle rustling of the trees, the distant chirping of birds, the trickling of the fountain’s water, all of it faded into quiet nothingness as Pero Tovar held Princess Y/N Lovelei close in his arms.

Their dance had left them breathless, their hearts pounding in unison. His strong arms remained securely wrapped around her waist, unwilling to let go, while her delicate fingers rested lightly against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. Their foreheads pressed together, eyes fluttering shut as they relished the moment. The warmth of their closeness, the rhythmic cadence of their breaths mingling, it was intoxicating, overwhelming in the most beautiful way.

Pero had never known such tenderness. His life had been filled with battles and hardships, with bloodied hands and weary nights. Yet here, in the arms of the Lovelei princess, he felt something he never thought possible.

Peace.

And then, just like that, Y/N tilted her head ever so slightly and stood on the tips of her toes.

Before he could react, her lips brushed against his in a soft, feather-light kiss.

The mercenary froze. His breath hitched, his grip on her tightening instinctively as though afraid she might disappear if he moved too fast. It was a kiss so pure, so sweet, it sent shivers down his spine.

When she pulled away, her brilliant gentle eyes gazed up at him with both nervousness and longing, her lips stretched in a small shy smile.

Pero could not help himself.

A low growl rumbled in his throat as he pulled her even closer, one arm tightening around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head. Before she could even take another breath, his lips crashed against hers once more, this time filled with all the passion he had been holding back for so long.

Y/N gasped into the kiss, her fingers instinctively gripping onto the fabric of his tunic. Pero took the opportunity to deepen the embrace, his lips moving with a desperate fervor, pouring everything he felt into her, his admiration, his devotion, his love.

It was raw. It was real. It was everything.

She melted against him, her hands sliding up to wrap around his neck as he held her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

And in that moment, to Pero Tovar, she truly was.

The Lovelei Castle gardens, which had once only been witness to the princess’s elegant dances, now bore witness to something far greater.

The beginning of a love that neither war nor status could ever hope to break.

[medievalandfantasymelee]

👑🌹The Queen of Love and Beauty🌹👑

Round 1 (3 of 6)

The Queen of Love and Beauty shall hold the honour of presenting unto the winner of the Tournament his Champion's Coronet.

Vote for the lady who, to you, best exemplifies feminine dignity, grace and loveliness

The six contenders with the most votes will advance.

Row 1 - Lucrezia Borgia [Holliday Grainger], The Borgias (2011-2013) - Giulia Farnese [Lotte Verbeek], The Borgias (2011-2013) - Elizabeth de Burgh [Florence Pugh], Outlaw King (2018)

Row 2 - Contessina de Bardi [Annabel Scholey], Medici (2016-2019) - Elizabeth Woodville [Rebecca Ferguson], The White Queen (2013) - Mary Boleyn [Charity Wakefield], Wolf Hall (2015-2024)

Row 3 - Anne Neville [Phoebe Fox], The Hollow Crown (2012-2016) - Kate Percy [Michelle Dockery], The Hollow Crown (2012-2016) - Margaret of Anjou [Sophie Okonedo], The Hollow Crown (2012-2016)

Row 4 - Eleanore of Aquitane [Katharine Hepburn], The Lion in Winter (1968) - Isabella of Valois [Emma Hamilton], RSC’s Richard II (2013) - Anne Boleyn [Genevieve Bujold], Anne of the Thousand Days (1969)