#the kingdom of roses and thorns au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hxlxnaaa · 2 months ago

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𝐱𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐭𝐲

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a princess, bound by duty, is forced into a loveless marriage to secure her kingdom’s future; yet her heart belongs to xavier, the knight who has always been by her side. on the eve of her wedding, he offers her one last chance to escape. stay and fulfill her duty, or run and choose love.

★ 𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: first person pov, pov switch throughout story (reader and xavier), angst with comfort/happy ending, subtle implications to intimacy, royal au, longer but pretty fast paced, not really proofread but i don’t think there's a crazy amount of errors, YEARNING. soooo much yearning

★ 𝐰𝐜: 9.2k

★ 𝐚/𝐧: heyyy… so yknow how i said i was gonna write fluff…? yeah i lied. angst is where my heart lies im sorry !!!!! </3 i’m giving you a bandaid though this time, and a happy ending. i’ll try and write fluff soon but don’t expect too much of me LOL. anyways, not connected to xaviers myth at all just wanted to write a lil royal au. even though it's kinda short and fast paced, i like this one. i hope you do too!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭-

The garden lay in silver and shadow, moonlight dripping through the lattice of leaves like molten pearl. She walked ahead of me, her bare fingertips grazing the edges of blooming roses, heedless of the thorns. The scent of night jasmine curled in the air, soft and sweet, but it paled against the presence of her.

I followed at her side, watchful, my steps measured and precise. This was duty.

This was my purpose.

To protect her, to stand between her and any unseen danger the night might hold. And yet, as I watched her, watched the way the soft glow of moonlight traced her form, turning every movement into something ethereal; I knew my greatest battle was not one fought with swords and steel, but with the quiet, unspoken longing that lived in my chest.

"You know, you don’t always have to be so quiet," she said, glancing at me with a small smile. "I think I’d like your company more if I wasn’t the only one speaking."

Her words carved through me like a blade slipped between ribs. You already have my company, my lady. My devotion. My every breath.

"It is not my place to speak unless spoken to," I replied, keeping my voice steady.

She sighed, feigning exasperation, yet I caught the way her lips twitched into a smile. "So formal. I don’t think I’ll ever break you of it."

Oh, if only you knew. You have already unraveled me a thousand times over.

We walked in silence for a moment, her fingers idly twisting a strand of hair as she gazed at the stars. I watched, as I always did, comparing her to the quiet wonders of the world; the glow of dawn cresting the horizon, the way autumn painted the trees in amber and fire, the sound of rain against stone. And yet, she outshone them all.

If I could choose my fate, I would swear my life to her over and over again. Not as a knight, not as a protector, but simply as a man who loved her.

But fate was not kind.

"The night is beautiful, isn’t it?" she mused, twirling a loose petal between her fingers, a smirk gracing her lips. "Almost as beautiful as me, wouldn’t you say?"

"The night is peaceful, Your Highness."

She let out a dramatic sigh. "How dreadfully diplomatic of you." Turning to me, she walked a little closer, tilting her head. "But I know you, Sir Xavier. I know how you speak when you're being truthful.”

I forced my gaze forward, my posture rigid despite the undeniable pull toward her. "I’m not sure what it is you speak of."

"That you adore me," she said simply, watching me with a knowing smile. "That if the poets were wise, they would write of me through your eyes."

My fingers curled at my sides. The only betrayal of my restraint. "You misunderstand my duty, Your Highness."

"Oh?" She raised a brow. "So it is merely duty that makes you look at me that way?"

"I do not know what you mean."

She hummed, pretending to consider my words. "No, I think you do." Taking a step ahead, she twirled lightly on her heel, the silk and mesh fabric of her gown catching the moonlight as she turned back to face me. Her eyes sparkled in a way that made my heart nearly leap from my chest. "Tell me then, Sir Xavier, if I were to trip right now, would you catch me out of obligation?"

Exhaling slowly, I measured my words. "I would catch you because it is my role to ensure your safety."

"Of course," she said airily. "And if I were to take your hand now, you would let me, but only because it would be improper to refuse, correct?"

"Correct," I said, voice firm. But I made the mistake of glancing at her outstretched fingers—delicate, soft. I had memorized the feeling of them on my skin.

Her smile widened. "And if I were to tell you that your composure is slipping, that I can see the truth beneath all this careful decorum?"

My breath hitched, so slight, so well contained that most wouldn’t have noticed.

She did.

"You would be mistaken," I forced out.

She studied me for a long moment, her amusement giving way to something quieter. "Liar," she whispered.

The word nearly undid me. But I could not, would not allow myself to falter.

"It’s late, Your Highness," I said instead, my tone the perfect mask of indifference. "Allow me to escort you back to your chambers."

A pause, then a soft sigh, as if she were granting me mercy. "Very well, Sir Xavier. But one day," she mused as she placed her hand on my offered arm, "I do wonder what might happen if I push just a little further."

I did not answer.

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬-

The door clicked shut behind him, a soft sound, yet it echoed through the chamber with unspoken meaning.

I turned, my pulse quickening, and met Xavier’s gaze. His eyes burned with something raw; annoyance, yes, but beneath it was something far more dangerous.

Oh, how I loved to tease.

"Sir Xavier," I tilted my head, letting my lashes flutter just so. "Isn’t it improper for a knight to be in a lady’s chambers at this hour?"

He clucked his tongue, a warning. Then, in three long strides, he was in front of me.

Before I could breathe another taunt, his lips crashed against mine, stealing the very air from my lungs. A gasp turned to a sigh as I tangled my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, reveling in the heat—his urgency.

This was what I had wanted, what I had dared him to do.

“You wish to push me?” Xavier’s voice was rough against my skin, his teeth grazing the curve of my neck before nipping the tender flesh. A sharp sting, then the soothing press of his lips against the mark he left behind.

I shivered. Yes, I thought. I do.

"You should be on guard outside," I teased, my voice lilting with mischief. "What if someone were to do something?" Xavier lifted his head from my collarbone, his lips still ghosting over my skin. Mirth flickered through his dark eyes.

"They can wait," he murmured, fingers tracing the curve of my shoulder. "Until I’m finished with you."

A shiver ran down my spine as his touch roamed lower, slipping the fabric of my dress from my shoulders, letting it pool at my feet.

Xavier was my knight, sworn to serve me—and oh, did he serve me well.

His hands explored in slow, deliberate strokes, tracing the shape of me as if committing it to memory; every moment spent like this he treats as if it’s our first.

He kissed me again, deeper this time, his lips parting against mine, stealing everything from me as if he needed it more than I did. His hands, rough from years of wielding a sword, skimmed over the bare skin of my waist, settling there, holding me firm; possessive in a way he had never allowed himself to be before.

"Xavier," I whispered, letting my head tilt back as his lips wandered lower, down the slope of my throat, the hollow of my collarbone, lingering as if he meant to worship every inch of skin he uncovered.

His breath was unsteady against me, “Say it again.” His restraint, so carefully cultivated, so unshakable—was slipping between my fingers like sand.

I reveled in it.

“Xavier…” I repeated, ghosting my lips over his.

"You are playing with fire," Xavier murmured against my skin, his voice rough, almost pained. Yet his touch told a different story, sliding over my hips, gripping tighter as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

I smiled, pressing closer, feeling the heat of him searing into me. "Then burn with me."

His answer came not in words, but in the way he lifted me, pressing me back into the silk covered mattress, the weight of him above me stealing the last of my own reason. The world beyond this room, beyond this moment, ceased to exist.

Here, in the dim candlelight, with his lips tracing a path of ruin and devotion down my skin, I was not a princess. Xavier was not my knight.

Here, we were only two souls, bound by something far greater than duty.

Nights like these had become our quiet refuge; where the world outside ceased to matter, and I could simply exist beside him. I watched as he lay next to me, his breath slow, steady, golden hair tousled from my touch. The candlelight cast shadows over his sharp features, softening them, making him look almost dreamlike.

Tonight, I held onto the moment a little tighter. I knew what awaited me in the morning.

Absentmindedly, I traced patterns against his bare chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath my fingertips. He stirred, propping himself up on an elbow, his gaze finding mine in the dim light. Xavier looked at me as if I were something precious, something fragile. And yet, it was he who was otherworldly—his beauty as effortless as the stars scattered across the night sky.

I could spend every night like this. Being with him was easy. Loving him was inevitable.

He was never just my knight. He was my fate.

But fate was not kind.

“I should return to my post,” he murmured, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Before they notice your knight is gone.”

I caught his hand, pressing it to my chest, pouting just enough to make him hesitate. “Stay a little longer?”

He exhaled a quiet laugh, but I heard the ache beneath it. “You’ll be okay,” he assured, brushing featherlight kisses across my cheeks and forehead. “I’ll see you when the sun rises.”

We both knew what morning would bring. And yet, neither of us dared to speak of it. As if silence could delay the inevitable. It almost felt like this was the last time I could have Xavier like this.

“I love you,” I whispered, kissing the back of his hand.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, I heard the quiet sigh, saw the flicker of something unreadable in his gaze before he smiled. He brought his lips to my temple, lingering there as if memorizing the feel of me.

“I love you too, Your Highness.”

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭-

“She shall be wed to King Edmund, of the Kingdom of Eastmere.”

The king’s voice reverberated through the towering walls, sending ripples through the royal court. Whispers fluttered in every corner, yet the princess’s face remained as stoic as a statue; though her eyes betrayed a quiet sorrow. I had come to understand her as I would a well loved book, knowing every twist and turn of her thoughts as she fought the urge to shift nervously beside me.

“We have secured an alliance between our lands,” the king continued, his words echoing in the chamber, “in exchange for the Princess’s hand, and her duty to bear the kingdom an heir.”

A sickening wave rose in my chest, threatening to suffocate me. I held my breath, my body stiff, forcing my mind to focus on my duty. To stand still. To remain the loyal protector. But the thought of her beside another man, her hand belonging to him… It was unbearable. Even worse, the image of her carrying the child of a stranger twisted something deep within me, making my blood run cold.

I fought to keep my composure.

Her pinky went to brush against mine, a fleeting, unconscious gesture, before jerking her hand back to her side. The impulse to pull her away, to flee with her to some distant place where no one could claim her, was overwhelming. Where she belonged to no one but me.

Somewhere where no other man would ever come to know the delicate lines and contours of her form, or the quiet, tender sighs that escaped her lips. Where no one else could hear the enchanting sound of her laughter or appreciate the depth and brilliance of her mind. A place where only I could witness the endless compassion she offered to all; where only I could experience the unshakable love and devotion she gave so freely.

But I knew my place.

I was a knight.

She was the princess.

My princess.

My only purpose.

The king's voice was rich with authority, yet tinged with something colder; an unspoken finality that made the air feel thick.

“The union of our lands shall bring prosperity, strengthen our kingdoms, and pave the way for generations to come,” he declared, sweeping his hand in a broad arc as if sealing the fate of all in the room. “This marriage is not merely a joining of two souls, but a bond forged in the fires of duty. The princess shall be married to King Edmund of Eastmere, and with her hand, our future will be secured.”

The weight of his words hung heavy, and I could feel the eyes of the court upon us.

Upon her.

“I trust,” he continued, his gaze now falling upon her, “that you will carry this responsibility with grace, my daughter. This alliance will shape the course of history. Your sacrifice will be the foundation upon which our kingdoms will stand.”

My heart tightened in my chest as he spoke. Sacrifice. That’s what he called it. As if she were nothing more than a pawn in a grand game.

His game.

She stood motionless, a mere figurehead of his will. I could see the storm brewing beneath her composed exterior; the storm I knew she could never voice aloud, not here, not now.

"You will make Eastmere proud, Princess," the king added, his tone softening for a brief moment, but his eyes were cold, calculating. "And in return, Eastmere shall forever be in your debt."

I wanted to scream. To break the silence and shatter the very foundation of this agreement. But all I could do was stand there, my fists clenched at my sides, a silent protector in a world that refused to hear her.

The king's eyes scanned the room, as if weighing each soul in his court, a brief moment of respite from the heavy declaration that had just passed through his lips.

"That will be all for now," he said, "You are dismissed."

The royal court, filled with murmurs and exchanged glances, slowly began to stir. Servants began to shuffle from the back, ushering those who had gathered into their rightful places, the noble families making their way toward the grand doors with a hurried sort of politeness. The air was thick with the weight of the announcement, yet there was an underlying hum of excitement and anticipation from the crowd. The murmurs continued, though softer now, as the royal court began to filter out one by one.

I remained still, standing at attention, my eyes locked on the princess. She had not moved, her gaze still focused ahead, her posture poised despite the emotional storm I could feel radiating from her.

As the last of the court members filed out, the great hall began to empty, the heavy silence settling in like a fog. But even as the doors closed behind the last of the noble families, I could still feel the tension in the air; an unspoken understanding that something had been set in motion, and we could do nothing but follow the path it had forged.

And the princess... she still stood there, unmoving. The weight of her world shifted with the king's command, yet she said nothing.

“There will be a ball in the coming weeks,” the king announced, his tone flat, offering no room for objection. His gaze remained fixed elsewhere, unwilling to grant her any agency in the matter. Not that she had much of one in the first place. “Preparations have already begun. You will meet King Edmund then.”

The princess gave a quiet, resigned nod. “Yes, Father.”

I found myself wishing she would resist, speak out, or even show some sign of defiance. But I knew better. Resistance was futile. To challenge the king was to risk punishment, and she was bound by her duty just as I was to mine.

The king’s dismissive gesture cut through the heavy silence. “You may go,” he said, addressing her without a second glance.

I nodded, stepping forward to guide the princess out of the court. Once we had distanced ourselves from the bustling hall, her composure faltered. She turned to me, her eyes wide and glistening with emotion.

“I would like to go for a walk in the town, if that’s all right?” she asked, her voice softer now, tinged with something I couldn’t quite name. A need for something, anything, beyond the confines of her royal cage.

I didn’t answer right away, but I could feel the ache in my chest at the sight of her vulnerability. “Of course,” I replied, my voice steady despite my own storm brewing within me.

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬-

The town was alive with energy, merchants crowding every corner, eager to sell their wares to anyone who passed by. The cacophony of voices, haggling and calling out, provided a welcome distraction, drowning out the constant noise in my mind. I paused often, taking in the glittering trinkets and the smell of fresh baked goods wafting through the air; Xavier’s presence steadfast behind me, a quiet constant.

I longed to grab his hand, to pull him through the bustling crowd, laughing as I handed him wooden swords and bright silk cloaks. Just for a moment, as if we were free. But I knew better. He couldn’t, and I couldn’t.

And we never would.

Beyond the town lay the forest, my sanctuary. It was the one place where I could escape; where I could forget, even if only for a little while, that I was a princess. A place where the world could simply… stop.

As I walked, my thoughts grew heavier with every step, and I couldn’t shake the suffocating weight of my duties. The people around me, their voices rising in a chaotic blend, started to feel like a reminder of the world I was bound to; a world where I didn’t belong in the way I once imagined.

I glanced over my shoulder at Xavier, the one constant in a life that seemed to change with every breath.

“Sir Xavier,” I began, my voice soft, almost hesitant. “Could we go to the forest? Just for a little while.”

He looked at me, concern flickering in his eyes. "The forest, Your Highness?"

"Yes," I replied, my voice gaining strength. “You know how it feels there. It’s... peaceful. It’s the only place that feels different from all of this.”

He hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, as if surrendering to the unspoken request. “Of course, Your Highness. I’ll ensure your safety.”

Without another word, we veered off the cobbled streets and headed toward the edge of town, where the thick trees stood like silent sentinels. As we left the chaos behind, the air seemed to change, cooler and fresher, as if the forest welcomed us.

With every step deeper into the woods, I felt the weight of the world ease, if only slightly. Xavier stayed close behind, his presence a steady reassurance, his every movement purposeful as he followed my lead.

We were alone now, beneath the canopy of leaves, the quiet only broken by the occasional rustling of the wind. I breathed in deeply, the scent of pine and earth filling my lungs. It was as if, in this place, I could let go, if just for a moment.

"Thank you," I whispered, turning to look at Xavier, my gaze softening. “For this. I needed it.”

His eyes met mine, and for a brief second, the world outside seemed to disappear. There was nothing but the forest, and the two of us.

Though just as quickly an uncomfortable silence settled between us, growing heavier with each passing moment. Xavier’s gaze fixed itself on the ground beneath him, his blonde hair falling into his eyes, hiding the conflict I knew he was fighting. He wasn’t going to say anything, he never did.

"Should we talk about... this?" I started, my voice tentative, but his head snapped up, his expression suddenly cold.

“There is nothing to discuss,” he replied, his tone final.

My lips twisted into a frown, distress bubbling up. “There is so much to discuss.”

His eyebrows knitted together, mouth pressed into a tight line. “You shall be wed and serve your kingdom well, Your Highness.”

I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Oh, would you stop with the formality! Xavier, this is us we’re talking about!”

Xavier stiffened, his words clipped and distant. “You forget yourself, Your Highness. I am your knight, and you are the kingdom’s princess.” His face was frustratingly unreadable, “There is no… us.”

Tears, which had been threatening to fall all day, finally spilled from my eyes. They ran down my cheeks, each drop heavier than the last. My lips trembled, and my breaths came in broken sobs. “You cannot pretend, Xavier. There’s no one near,” I whispered, my voice raw. I looked up at him through tear streaked lashes, my heart aching. “Don’t tell me I mean nothing to you. Don’t tell me I’m just your princess.”

His breath was shaky as he stepped closer, gently wiping my tears away with his hands. I pressed my face into his palm, another sob escaping my lips.

“You know I love you,” Xavier murmured, his voice heavy with emotion. “But there’s nothing we can do.”

"Beg me to run away with you," I pleaded, "Offer me a life somewhere else, anything."

“Would you follow me?” he asked, his words cutting through the air like a sharp blade.

The question stung. And, deep down, I knew he was right.

I wouldn’t.

Because I preserve my duty just as much as he does his.

My silence spoke louder than any words could, and Xavier exhaled a quiet sigh, letting his hand fall back to his side. “Come, Your Highness,” he said, his voice steady but distant. “The kingdom awaits you, the preparations will not make themselves.”

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭-

The days stretched long and heavy, each one darker than the last as the night of the ball crept closer. Silence settled between us like an unspoken grief. She no longer asked to go anywhere, no longer sought the small freedoms she once clung to. The princess; once bold, once untamed, had withdrawn into herself, and watching that light dim nearly tore me apart.

And perhaps, in some way, it was my fault.

Maybe I should have fought for her. Should have done something, anything. Thrown myself into chaos, drawn the court’s attention long enough for her to escape, to vanish into the depths of her beloved forest.

But I did nothing.

As her maids departed one by one, their final touches leaving her adorned for the night, she stepped forward at last. My breath caught, stolen by the sight of her. Even goddesses would bow in her presence—an angel cast from the heavens, stripped of her wings. She was nothing short of perfection.

And yet, she was not meant for me.

Every delicate detail, every shimmering thread, every breathtaking moment; none of it was mine to cherish. It was all for him.

The weight of her hand on my arm was light, yet it anchored me in ways I could not name. As I escorted her from her chambers, the world around us dulled in comparison. She was resplendent—bathed in candlelight, her gown a cascade of silk and shimmer, woven with threads that caught the glow like spun starlight. A vision, an unspoken promise of beauty and grace. And yet, beneath it all, I saw her unease, the tension in her fingers as they brushed against my arm.

“You are beautiful,” I whispered, my voice meant only for her ears. A truth, but not a comfort.

Her lips barely twitched, the ghost of a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Does it matter?” she whispered back.

Yes. To me, it does.

I wanted to tell her she was more than this, more than a political pawn, more than the fate they had written for her. But what use were words when I could do nothing to stop it?

The ballroom gleamed ahead, chandeliers casting golden light over silken banners, the floor polished to a mirror’s sheen. The scent of perfume and wine hung thick in the air, and laughter rang out like the clinking of crystal goblets. But all of it faded the moment my eyes landed on him.

King Edmund.

My heart clenched, breath turning sharp in my chest. He was older than I had imagined, skin sagging with age, the weight of years heavy in his stance. His eyes, hungry and assessing, dragged over her as if she were a possession to be claimed. A trophy to be displayed.

Rage burned through me like fire in my veins.

To him, she would be nothing but a vessel, a means to an end. A womb to bear his heir.

But to me?

She was everything. The universe itself. Life and light, warmth and wonder. She was not his to claim. And yet, he would.

And I could do nothing to stop it.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess of Philos!”

As I stepped back to take my place for the night, the crowd turned in unison, their conversations fading into hushed reverence.

The room dipped into a deep bow, and from within the sea of nobles, King Edmund emerged. He moved with purpose, a man accustomed to taking what he desired. His hand stretched toward her, his lips forming words I could not hear from where I stood. Without hesitation, he seized her hand, eager, sweeping her toward the center of the ballroom.

The music swelled once more, filling the grand hall with a lively melody. She moved with effortless grace, every step a testament to her poise. Yet King Edmund fumbled through the dance, his footing clumsy, his grip possessive. When he nearly tripped over his own feet, he let out a coarse laugh, oblivious to the stiffness in her posture, the way her smile barely held.

But I saw it.

The flicker of disgust in her eyes, the silent plea beneath the practiced charm.

Would it be so wrong to admit that her hatred brought me a sliver of comfort? That in the midst of this wretched night, where she was forced into the arms of a man unworthy of her, her disgust was a quiet rebellion—one that only I could see?

It meant she did not want this.

It meant that, in some small way, she still belonged to herself. To me.

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬-

The room spun around me as the music swelled; my hand rested in King Edmund’s, his palm too damp, his grip too firm. He led—if it could be called that—his movements stiff and awkward. Every step was clumsy, and yet I followed, because that was what I was meant to do.

"Ah, my sweet little bride to be," he drawled, his voice thick with arrogance. "I have waited far too long to lay my eyes upon you. And might I say, you are even more… ripe than I had imagined."

I swallowed hard, forcing a polite smile as my stomach churned.

"You flatter me, Your Majesty," I said, voice carefully even.

"Oh, but it is not flattery, my dear. It is the truth." His beady eyes roved over me shamelessly, lingering where they should not. "You are a delicate thing, aren’t you? I do so hope you will warm to me quickly. It would be such a shame if my future queen were… cold."

His chuckle slithered through me like something rotten, his grip tightening as he spun me.

"A woman’s duty is to please her husband, after all," he murmured, lips too close to my ear.

I forced my body to remain still, my expression placid, though every part of me screamed to flee.

"Of course, Your Majesty," I said softly, pressing my lips together to stop them from trembling.

Smile. Obey. Be graceful.

Be silent.

But as I turned, I let my eyes slip closed, let my mind drift far, far away from the leering face before me.

In another world, in another life, it would be Xavier’s hand in mine. It would be his touch guiding me, warm and sure, his body moving in perfect rhythm with mine. There would be no expectations, no crown weighing on my head, no chains around my wrists disguised as silk gloves.

Tonight, I would return home to him. He would lie beside me, his voice a lullaby of warmth as he spun stories only for me, weaving tales of love and adventure until my eyes grew heavy. Under the vast night sky, he would point to the constellations, naming them as if they were ours alone to claim, each star shimmering with the same quiet brilliance as him. Xavier’s hands would clasp my heart as if he had always owned it; because he did, because he always would.

He would hold me like I was something sacred, like I was not just a princess bound by duty but a woman meant to be cherished. His fingers would trace the lines of my palm as though searching for our fate written in my skin, and I would believe—if only for a moment—that the universe had made me for him.

I opened my eyes, and they found him.

He stood against the far wall, half shadowed, his face unreadable to anyone but me. And when our gazes locked, just for a moment, his lips curled into the smallest, softest smile.

It was the only real thing in this room.

A reassurance. A promise. A love that neither time nor duty could break.

Not like the man in front of me, who laughed at his own missteps, oblivious to my revulsion.

My first smile of the night came naturally, though it was not for my betrothed.

It was for Xavier.

And when he grinned back, just the tiniest bit wider, breaking every rule; my heart ached with a wish that would never be granted.

—

In the stolen breaths between duty and expectation, they existed.

The princess no longer sought escape into the town or the woods; there was no solace in pretending anymore. Instead, she stole what moments she could; lingering just a second too long when he handed her the reins of her horse, catching his gaze across crowded rooms only for both of them to look away just as quickly. It was not enough.

It never was.

Xavier was a shadow at her side, silent and steady, ever the knight he was trained to be. Yet, inside, it was so painfully obvious he was crumbling. Each glance, each whispered word, each forced smile chipped away at his resolve. He had told himself that she was not his to keep, that she belonged to something greater than him. And yet, every breath she took felt like it belonged in his lungs.

The night before she was to leave, the castle felt different. Quieter. As if the stone walls themselves held their own breath, unwilling to witness what came next. She stood on the balcony, the cold air biting at her skin, hands gripping the railing as if she could hold onto this place, this moment, for just a little while longer.

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭-

"Your Highness." I closed the door behind me with careful hands, the hush of the sleeping castle granting me the courage to steal one more night. One more moment. One last conversation.

Just the two of us.

My jaw tightened as she slowly turned, the fabric of her nightgown whispering against her skin, silvered by the moonlight. Her eyes glistened, her cheeks damp, and when our gazes met, her lower lip trembled just so.

"Sir Xavier." Her voice was barely above a breath as she dropped her gaze, tucking away a stray lock of hair caught in the night breeze.

If I were an artist, she would be my masterpiece; something to paint, to create, to worship.

I stepped beside her, my hands clenched at my sides, resisting the pull, the desperate need to hold her. Instead, I fixed my gaze on the garden below, the one we had wandered through countless times. The place where she had tucked flowers behind my ears, where her laughter had cracked through my carefully built armor, where moments once felt endless. Now, they were slipping through my fingers like sand, vanishing into something I could never reclaim.

I was about to lose the only thing I had ever truly loved.

She was upset. Touching her will only make it harder for her, I thought.

But when her fingers found mine, when she pressed herself against my chest, I let everything go. The dam broke. My walls crumbled. As my own tears fell into her hair, my lips found the crown of her head, as I tried holding onto her as if I could stop time itself.

"You will not come with me," she whispered against my chest, and for a moment, the world stood still.

I pulled her back enough to look into her eyes, pearls of tears welling back up in the corners as she stared up at me with agony.

I shook my head. "I must. It is my duty, I swore an oath to you."

But she only shook hers in return, her breath unsteady. "No. They have assigned me a new personal guard. No one from the kingdom will accompany me." Her voice wavered, barely above a breath. "I will be alone."

A sob tore from her lips, desperate and broken, and I couldn't decide what hurt more; the sound of her heartbreak or the weight of my own.

Leaving her behind was never an option. I had sworn my life to the princess, spilled my own blood to protect her. There was no version of me that existed without her. I didn’t care if I was merely her knight or something more, every part of me was built to stand by her side.

My lips parted, then pressed shut again as my mind scrambled for words; something to argue, something to soothe. But nothing felt right.

Because nothing about this moment was right.

"I am tired," the princess whispered, slowly pulling away from me, her body trembling in the night’s chill. "And I am cold."

I nodded, swallowing the ache in my throat as I took her hands in mine. "Let’s get you to bed then. You have an early morning."

Wordlessly, I led her across the room, tucking her beneath the heavy blankets, shielding her from everything except the sorrow neither of us could escape. I pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, willing her to feel everything I couldn’t say. Then, as I turned to leave, I felt the smallest tug at my hand. Her pinky curled around mine.

"Stay with me until I fall asleep. Please."

My chest ached, splintering at her plea.

"Of course."

Slipping beneath the covers beside her, I pulled her close, holding her as she cried; softly this time, her sorrow quieter but no less heavy. I ran my fingers through her hair, humming the song she loved most, a final, desperate attempt to ease her pain. I stayed until her breathing slowed, until her body grew still in my arms.

Only then did I carefully slip away, laying her to rest alone.

At the door, I turned back for one last look—at the rise and fall of her chest, at the tear streaked face softened in sleep.

And in the silence of her chambers, I let myself collapse.

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

I dreamt of him.

I dreamt of the day we first met, back when we were just children. His father, a palace guard; his mother, a maid. He had begun his knight training at an age far too young, but back then, he was still just a boy—silly, carefree, untouched by the weight of his duty or the stain of others blood. His blue eyes sparkled beneath the sun as we ran through the gardens, our laughter echoing through the hedges. No talk of honor, no weight of expectation. Just us. Just a moment untainted by the future.

"You’re not very good at being a knight, you know," I teased, breathless from chasing butterflies. "Knights are supposed to be serious."

"Maybe I don’t want to be a knight," he huffed, flopping onto the grass beside me. "Maybe I just want to be a boy who plays in gardens with princesses."

"Then don’t be a knight," I had said so simply, as if the world would allow it. "Just be my friend."

And for a time, he was.

I dreamt of being sixteen again, of the soft clink of rocks against my balcony in the dead of night. I could still see him standing below, his figure barely visible in the dark, hair a mess, but that grin; bright, mischievous, unwavering. He would gesture for me to come down, and I always found a way. No matter the risk, no matter the scolding I might receive. He was my best friend. He was worth it.

"You know one of these days, they're going to catch you," I whispered as I slipped through the garden gate, my heart pounding with the thrill of it all.

"Then I suppose I'll have to fight off the entire palace guard," he said with a dramatic bow. "Or maybe just talk my way out of it. I’m quite charming, you know."

"Oh, of course," I laughed, rolling my eyes as he took my hand and led me toward the stables. "The prince of smooth talking himself."

"Exactly." The boy gave my fingers a squeeze. "Now come on, the stars are waiting."

And so we ran, past the towering walls and royal expectations, into a world that was just ours—if only for a little while.

I dreamt of his accolade ceremony, the air thick with the scent of spring, the world alive with new beginnings. The sun was warm, the flowers had just begun to bloom, and the future stretched before us like an open road. He knelt before me, the weight of the sword pressing onto his shoulders, yet his posture did not falter. His oath rang clear, steady; words of duty, honor, and loyalty. But when his gaze flickered toward me, just for a second, I knew there was another promise there too. One meant only for me.

Afterward, when the formalities had passed and the kingdom celebrated its newest knight, we slipped away. Just as we always had.

"Sir Xavier," I teased, following him into the quiet corner of the garden, where the ivy curled around marble arches and the noise of the court faded into the distance. "You wear the title well."

"Do I?" He asked, turning to face me. His armor was pristine, the sigil of the royal guard emblazoned across his chest. But it was his eyes that held me still; bright, searching, something unspoken lingering between us.

"Yes," I whispered. "You do."

For a moment, we just stood there, the world holding its breath. And then, with all the hesitance of a boy still learning what it meant to want, he reached for me.

"May I?" His fingers barely brushed my cheek.

I nodded.

And then his lips met mine; soft, uncertain, but real. A vow all its own.

I had thought his knighthood would be the most important moment of the day. But standing there, heart hammering against my ribs, I realized this—this—was the moment I would remember forever.

I dreamt of the night I knew.

The castle had been silent, but my body had burned. Feverish, weak, barely able to lift my head from the pillows. The royal physicians had come and gone, whispering reassurances to the maids, but none of them stayed. None of them held my hand.

But he did.

I remember waking in the hazy glow of candlelight, the flickering shadows dancing across his face as he sat beside my bed. His fingers were calloused but careful as he pressed a damp cloth to my forehead.

"You're here," I rasped, voice barely above a whisper.

His lips twitched, exhaustion lining his features. "Where else would I be?"

"You shouldn't—"

"Rest," he interrupted gently, shifting closer. "I'll be here when you wake."

And I believed him.

I had closed my eyes then, but not before seeing the way he looked at me; the kind of look that made the world feel smaller, like it was just the two of us and nothing else. The kind of look that wrapped around my heart and never let go.

It was that night I knew.

And it was that night I realized, somewhere deep in the corners of my soul, that loving him would be the easiest and hardest thing I would ever do.

I dreamt of another life.

A home far away, nestled in fields of wildflowers, where the wind carried the scent of lavender through open windows. A place untouched by duty, where no one whispered about alliances or heirs. Where no crown sat heavy on my head, and no sword was drawn in my name.

The cottage was small, but it was ours. The wooden floors creaked beneath our steps, the fire crackled softly in the hearth, and outside, the stars stretched endlessly above us.

And in the bed beside me was him.

His warmth pressed against my back, one arm draped lazily around my waist, fingers tracing idle patterns along my skin. His breath was steady, comforting, the sound of a man who no longer had to stand guard at my door, who no longer had to watch me from afar.

"Are you asleep?" His voice was hushed against my hair, laced with drowsiness.

I smiled, eyes still closed. "Almost."

He sighed, pulling me closer, his lips brushing the back of my neck. "Good."

"Why?"

"Because then I get to wake up with you."

In my dream, I let myself believe it was real. That when the morning came, I wouldn’t wake in a castle, bound to a life that was never truly mine. That I would open my eyes to sunlight spilling through sheer curtains, to the sound of him humming as he started a fire, to the promise of another day with nothing but love ahead of us.

Yet…

I turned to whisper his name, expecting the warmth of his presence, his steady heartbeat beside mine. I reached out for him, feeling nothing but empty sheets.

And then—I woke up.

Alone. Cold.

Reality crashed back down around me, like a wall of stone falling from the heavens. My heart twisted, choking on the weight of everything I’d just lost. It had all been a dream, a beautiful illusion.

The reality was harsh and unforgiving. He was gone. The warmth was gone. And I was left to face the truth; my heart forever bound to him, while my life demanded something else.

The maids filed in one by one,

“Let us get you ready. Your carriage is almost here, Your Highness.”

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭-

In the weeks following the princess’s departure, I found myself reappointed as a palace guard, just as my father once was. It was a role I had never aspired to, one that felt like a cruel mockery of everything I had trained for. Years of relentless knight training, of discipline and sacrifice, reduced to nothing more than standing watch in silent corridors.

But perhaps it wasn’t just the job that felt hollow. Perhaps every role within the palace was just as dull, just as lifeless. Or maybe it was simply her. Maybe she had been the color in an otherwise gray world, the force that made even the most monotonous days feel like an adventure.

Without her, life trudged on, empty and unremarkable.

It was as if no one noticed she was gone, as if the kingdom hadn’t lost its brightest light. Life carried on, indifferent. The garden still bloomed, the sun still rose, the halls still echoed with laughter that didn’t belong to her. It was infuriating; the way the world refused to grieve her absence the way I did.

But grief is a quiet thing. It does not stop time or bend the world to its sorrow. It lingers, unseen, in the hearts of those who loved her.

In my heart.

The days blurred together, an endless cycle of routine and hollow duty. Standing guard at the palace gates, patrolling the halls, listening to the mindless chatter of nobles who had already forgotten her. I hadn’t. I couldn’t.

I still woke before dawn, despite no longer having her to escort on morning rides. My hands still reached for a sword heavier than the one at my waist; the one meant for battle, for protection, not for ceremony. I still turned at the sound of laughter that sounded just close enough to be hers, my breath catching in my throat before reality set in. She wasn’t here. She wouldn’t be.

Old habits refused to die, lingering like ghosts in the spaces we once filled. The maids still glanced at me when they passed, pity in their eyes, as if I were something broken.

Maybe I was.

Some nights, when the weight of missing her pressed too heavily on my chest, I wandered. Past the banquet halls where she used to sneak extra desserts to me when no one was looking. Past the library where she would read until her eyes drooped, always insisting on finishing just one more page. Past the training grounds where she had once challenged me to a duel, laughing even as she lost over and over again.

Tonight, my feet led me somewhere I hadn’t dared go since she left.

The garden.

The moonlight bathed the flowers in silver, their petals swaying in the cool breeze. It looked the same, smelled the same, but without her, it felt… empty.

I stepped forward, the crunch of gravel beneath my boots the only sound. Here, in this very spot, she had tucked a flower behind my ear. Here, she had whispered secrets, ones I carried with me even now. Here, I had kissed her for the first time.

I exhaled sharply, my fingers brushing the petals of a rose before curling into a fist.

The world had not stopped for her absence. But I had.

The weight of tomorrow settled heavy in my chest, pressing down with every breath. My fingers curled tighter, nails biting into my palms as if pain could ground me, as if it could silence the roaring in my head.

Nothing.

For weeks, I let myself believe it. That I was powerless. That she was lost. That there was no way to stop what was coming.

But standing here, in this garden where she had once laughed freely, where she had taken my hands in hers and promised that no matter where life took us, we would always find our way back to each other; how could I believe that?

The moonlight wove through the leaves, casting shadows that danced like ghosts of the past. I could almost hear her voice, her laughter, the way she had once called my name with nothing but joy. And now? Now, her voice would be bound in silks and duty, reciting vows to a man who would never love her the way I did.

My breath hitched as I looked up at the stars, the very ones I had once pointed out to her, spinning stories in the quiet safety of the night.

How could I let this happen?

My heart pounded against my ribs, the realization striking as hard and fast as a blade—I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t.

Nothing, I could do nothing.

Nothing, there was nothing.

...

Something.

I had to do something.

My pulse steadied, my mind clearing for the first time in weeks.

Tomorrow, the first day of summer, she would be forced to walk down an aisle.

But tonight—

Tonight, she was still mine to save.

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

The kingdom was suffocating in its silence, a stillness that clung to the air like dust in an abandoned room. It mirrored King Edmund himself; aged, stagnant, repulsive. The maids moved like ghosts, the servants like shadows, none daring to utter a single word. The only sound that ever shattered the hush was the king’s laughter; loud, hollow, and grating, echoing through the castle like a cruel reminder of who held dominion over it all.

“I shall have your chambers decorated to your liking, my dear.” The king’s grin stretched wide, revealing yellowed teeth, his voice dripping with false sweetness. Yet, as I stepped inside, the room told a different story; it seemed fit for a concubine. The balcony was low enough that I could make a quick escape if needed, and the thought frequently crossed my mind. Still, it was a mercy compared to what awaited me beyond these walls.

Sharing a bed with him.

Oh, and the garden.

I despised it. It was a mockery of what it should be; twisted, decaying, and suffocating under its own neglect. The flowers, I’m sure once full of color and life, now stood like corpses, their petals crushed and grey. Weeds had taken over, crawling through every corner, claiming the space with a savage grip. It felt like a reflection of everything I loathed—everything that had been stolen from me. The beauty, the life, it was all gone. Just like me.

The castle walls pressed in around me, cold and lifeless, as if the very stones were whispering of all the joy they had swallowed whole. This place was nothing like home—it was a tomb masquerading as a palace. And I was just another relic trapped inside, left to rot beneath the weight of duty.

King Edmund’s presence was suffocating. His breath reeked of spoiled wine, his touch like a stain I could never wash away. The way he looked at me made my stomach churn, and I could feel his gaze even when he wasn’t there; a constant, sickening reminder that I was his now. His to claim. His to control.

I loathed every inch of this castle, from the damp, drafty corridors to the suffocating silence that swallowed my screams before they could ever leave my throat. No one spoke. No one looked at me for too long. The maids avoided my eyes, their hands trembling as they adjusted my gowns or brushed my hair. They knew. They knew what my life had become, and yet, they too were prisoners here. There was no help. No escape.

And the nights, the nights were the worst. The way his laughter would slither down the halls, seeping under my door like a poison I couldn’t escape. The moments I would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, counting the breaths I could hear on the other side of the door. Waiting. Dreading.

I thought I had known misery before. I thought I had known fear. But nothing could have prepared me for this. For him. For the way my world had shrunk into something unrecognizable, something unbearable.

The garden was just another cruelty in an endless sea of them. What was once my sanctuary had been turned into something grotesque, something twisted beyond repair. I used to believe in tending to the things I loved, in nurturing beauty where I could. But what was the point, when everything I touched was destined to wither and die?

Tomorrow, the first day of summer, I will be wed.

The night air is thick with the scent of rain, the distant rumble of thunder a quiet warning in the distance. I sat at the edge of my bed, the weight of a crown I do not yet wear pressing heavier than the gown draped over my shoulders. The torches and candlelight in the chamber flicker like fallen stars, indifferent to the war waging inside of me.

Clink.

The sound is soft and blends in with the rhythm of the rain.

Clink.

I stand, heading to the balcony doors.

Clink.

I notice a pebble.

Swinging the balcony doors open, I step out into the rain.

"Your Highness."

There he is, not even a foot below, standing beneath my balcony. The only thing in this world that still feels real. His armor is dulled from the road, his hands rough with the journey, but his eyes—his perfect blue eyes still shine, still burn with that quiet intensity that always made me weak.

My breath catches, my heart stuttering in my chest. He shouldn’t be here. This is reckless, dangerous, if anyone were to find him, to find us—

And yet, something inside me softens, loosens, like a knot finally coming undone.

"You shouldn’t be here," I whisper, though I make no move to step away.

"And yet, here I am," Xavier says. "Here, where you are. Where you have always been."

He is a sight against the bleakness of my world. A dream standing in front of me, golden even in the pale moonlight. His hair sticks to his forehead from the rain and wind in a way that makes me want to reach down and brush them back. His jaw, sharp and strong, is clenched and tight, as if the road refused to let him rest. And his lips—full, pink, familiar—are pressed into a line, barely concealing the emotions warring inside him.

He looks so painfully handsome it almost hurts. Compared to the king, to his yellowed teeth and sickly complexion, Xavier is the sun and stars themselves; warm and golden and impossible to look away from.

The sight of him is enough to make me forget it all. Just for a moment. My hands tremble at my sides, aching to reach for him, to feel the strong, steady grip that once held me so carefully, so reverently.

Xavier steps closer, eyes searching mine. "I swore an oath to you once," he murmurs. "Not to your crown, not to your kingdom—to you. Say the word, and I will keep it."

His breath is unsteady, his lips parted like he’s barely holding himself together. "Say the word," he says again, voice raw, "and we’ll leave this place behind."

He stretches out his hand to me.

The wind stirs, carrying his words through the hollow halls of my heart. I think of golden thrones and cold hands. Of heirs and alliances. Of chains wrapped in silk and satin.

And then I think of him.

Of the way the dim light catches in his lashes. Of the curve of his smile, the one I haven’t seen in weeks. Of forests and open roads and a love that has never asked me to be anything but myself.

I take a breath;

I take his hand.

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