#asyouwish

Katie Fudd touches the Royal Guard’s shoulder with the gentle, aching warmth of a mother, rather than the distant grace expected of a Queen Consort. 

“You’ve served our family with utmost loyalty,” the Queen smiles with sad eyes, “so we shall send message to our neighbours, Kingdom Citron. If I recall accurately from last night, I believe they inquired about you, specifically for their daughter, Sonia. They will be more than happy to take you in as one of their own.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she bows her head in gratitude, blond waves slipping off her shoulders like a shield between her and the throne room around her. 

“Your service to us and our daughter will never be forgotten, Paige Bueckers. It’ll be very sad for us to see you go. I expect you would like to say goodbye to the princess?” the King, Tim, asks expectantly.

The guard hesitates for a beat, struggling to find the proper words, before saying, “Actually, if you don’t mind, I would prefer that this conversation remain in confidence among the three of us, at least until the appropriate moment arrives.” 

She is unbeknownst to who is listening from just beyond the door.

Princess Azzi freezes, her breath caught in her throat. From her hiding spot, she witnesses her personal guard kneeling before her parents.

It was an accident, really. She had passed the door initially without a thought, but quickly paused to spy when a single word reached her ears: “resignation”, uttered in a voice she’s heard every day since she was fifteen. The voice she waits for every morning, and the last that bids her ‘goodnight’ before she falls asleep. 

The voice that fills her dreams.

Azzi is rooted to the carpet. The gravity of Paige’s request presses down, but its effect is null. Her nerves are already spiralling and uncontrolled, spinning wildly out of orbit.

But before the dark haired princess can escape her crime scene undetected, the throne room door swings open.

Blue eyes meet brown.

Both widen.

MORNING OF THE DAY PRIOR, AZZI'S BIRTHDAY

Theoretically, Paige’s role as Azzi’s personal guard is simply ‘protect the princess from unexpected danger’, and nothing else. And supposedly, Paige’s daily responsibilities aren’t to commence until the princess leaves her room. Or at least, that's what protocol would suggest.

“Royal Guard! I can hear you out there!”

The call drifts out from behind the Princess Suite door that Paige stationed herself in front of. The voice is smooth and sweeter than honey, and anyone less experienced than Paige, anyone softer or more foolish, would fall prey to the melody.

But Paige isn’t foolish.

“Paige!” she continues, her whine so breathy and syrupy that it's almost intoxicating, “Please come!”

The blond has to manually breathe in. Breathe out. 

“Paige, please… I need you so badly.”

Her final thread of restraint snaps, and Paige yanks the door open, entirely done with pretending she had any to begin with.

Okay maybe she is a bit foolish.

“What do you need, Princess?” Paige’s eyes roll but still dutiful as ever.

Almost like she hadn’t just coerced Paige into coming inside, Princess Azzi sits delicately, with perfect posture, atop of her bed, with big innocent eyes. Her lightly coloured morning dress is wrapped across her frame, and its silk spreads out gently over the perfectly white sheets.

A small breakfast tray-table on the bed presents an assortment of small treats, savoury and sweet alike, with a variety far too vast for it just to be finished all by one girl.

“I cannot eat,” Azzi states, certain.

“What’s wrong, Your Highness? Are you sick? Should I call for the royal medic?” Paige suggests quickly, worried for Azzi.

Paige swears that she’s always coughing all around the castle.

“No! That’s not the problem,” her lips are pulled into a pout fit for a princess.

“Okay…” Paige knits her eyebrows together. “Then what is the matter?”

“I believe someone has poisoned my breakfast.”  …what? 

Paige is unsure of what to do, “Um, okay. How about I-”

“Paige, you don’t want me to be poisoned do you?” Azzi asks, her eyes shining at Paige.

“Uh, of course not but-”

“So you must try everything before I eat it myself.” 

Literally, what the fuck? Paige almost says it outloud but catches herself, staring indecorously at the spread of pastries and fruits. 

Meanwhile, Azzi seems awfully pleased with herself for having brought about this crisis.

“Guard come here,” the princess orders, delicately pushing the tray closer to Paige. “Take a bite of each. Just for my safety.”

“Hm. For your safety,” Paige repeats flatly. “...Right.”

This definitely isn’t adding up, but as a servant to the royals, it isn’t her place to question a princess’s orders. Before thinking further, she picks up a chocolate tart calling her name and takes a bite. The rich flavours sing on her tongue and the smoothness of the ganache is more impressive than any of the typical guard-issued porridge they offer in the chow hall. She nearly moans.

Her eyes slide further across the tray. There are a lot of chocolate flavoured dishes. This realisation pauses her chewing mid bite. The palace cooks never prepare this many chocolate items for breakfast. Not unless…

“Princess. Why am I even eating this. You don’t like chocolate.”

“No,” Azzi dismisses breezily, “But you do.”

Paige pauses. Because she does. But she can’t remember ever mentioning this to Azzi.

Quickly, Azzi huffs in order to interrupt Paige’s train of thought. She’s now looking away, cheeks warm.

“Honestly, I cannot comprehend why the kitchens must send up all of this,” Azzi gestures to the mountain of food. “It’s quite excessive I should say.”

Paige crosses her arms and squints her eyes to focus on Azzi, not taking an ounce of her shit, “Princess.”

“What?” she responds quickly, too fast and defensive to be subtle.

“Tell me that scrawl on the parchment isn’t your handwriting,” Paige looks down to a small piece of paper mostly hidden underneath the tray. Princess Azzi’s Breakfast Requests is written at the top, and a long list of foods is followed underneath in pretty cursive, every curl and dot so perfect it's almost like art. 

Azzi goes rigid. Busted.

Paige’s mouth drops open, “You asked for my favourites, on purpose, for your birthday breakfast?”

Azzi tightens her jaw and sends a defiant look towards Paige, “How else would I ensure you spent this time today with me? You surely don’t expect me to scream and beg for your presence at my own breakfast, Paige. That would just be undignified.” 

“That’s exactly what you were doing less than three minutes ago,” Paige raises an eyebrow at her.

“No, that was about poison,” Azzi argues.

“No. That was about manipulation.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, “Semantics.”

Paige sits on the edge of the bed anyway, naturally drawn in closer to Azzi like a magnet, despite all of her deceit.

Azzi takes one of the pastries, a salty and caramelised roll that she knows Paige always snatches from the kitchens when the cooks aren’t looking, and holds it up to Paige’s mouth.

“Go on,” she murmurs, eyes dragging from Paige’s waist, to her shoulders, then to her arms, “Eat. It’ll make you stronger.”

Paige just stares, “…Strong.”

“Yes,” Azzi says matter of factly. “I’ve recently been observing your fellow guards in the castle square. Their muscles are growing quite impressively.”

Paige nearly chokes and splutters, “You’ve been what?”

“So,” Azzi pushes the food insistently closer towards her mouth, “you should keep eating.”

Paige glares, refusing to bite, “Just call me skinny, Princess. Just say it how it is.”

“I am not calling you skinny,” Azzi says quickly. Then, with a cheeky smirk, “I’m just implying it.”

Paige scoffs heavily and throws her head back in disbelief, “Gods. You’re something else.”

Azzi softens, voice dipping low, “Besides… it wouldn’t hurt to eat a bit more.”

She runs her free hand gently over Paige’s shoulder. Her muscles are hidden behind the wool of her navy uniform, but Paige has to suppress a full body shiver nonetheless. 

Paige snatches the pastry out of pure indignation, and rips off a massive bite. There.

Azzi grins, having just won the war.

“Paige,” Azzi says suddenly, still seated on her bed, “You can give me my birthday gift now.”

While others may fall for Azzi’s act of entitlement, Paige, of course, knows better than to be truly bothered. 

“Oh? Now? All of the jewels and carriages aren’t enough for you, Your Highness?” she mocks lightheartedly, head tilted and eyes smiling.

Azzi puffs out an annoyed breath, “Those will come later tonight. I wish for yours now.”

“Who says I got you anything? I’m just your guard, Princess. Not one of your suitors.”

But how she wishes she was.

The younger girl is now pouting, too upset to come up with a response.

Noticing the fast progression of Azzi’s raging feelings, Paige grins and continues to bait her, “I mean, how could I even know if you wanted something from me?”

This successfully sends Azzi further off the edge, and Paige is even surprised with herself at how good she is at riling her up. 

“I do,” Azzi huffs.

“Do you now?” Paige asks and she has to focus to hold in her laughter. Her eyes look softly at Azzi with that cheeky sparkle in her eye that the princess is all too familiar with.

“Okay stop. You’re being annoying Paige,” Azzi grumbles, obviously fed up at this cruelty. Paige tries not to melt when Azzi looks away with a blush rising to her cheeks. 

The older girl, irritating as ever, tilts her chest and head so she moves back into Azzi’s vision so she has to look at Paige against her will.

“You’re cute when you’re frustrated,” she says softly. Just the honest truth.

This change of pace catches Azzi off guard, and she has no words left to say, other than a gentle “shut up” with no bite behind it.

Now, Paige tries to shift the conversation, and wiggles her eyebrows playfully as she says, “Well, Princess, if I were you I would be most excited for Joseph’s gift.”

This properly peeves Azzi off, actioning her up onto her knees and slapping her both hands down on each of Paige’s strong shoulders, “Paige! I said shut up!”

Properly laughing now, Paige defends herself from the attacking princess by falling backwards onto the bed and bringing up her arms to roll Azzi off of her so now they are lying on their backs, side by side. Their breaths huff in and out in the same rhythm simultaneously. Paige is donning a wide smile while Azzi glares at her from the corner of her eye.

“Okay! I see you aren’t too keen for Joseph’s gift then,” Paige says with a teasing tone.

“Why do you even need to bring him up now, during breakfast? Literally, who would even want to talk about him?” Azzi asks, shuddering. 

Paige rolls her head over to look at Azzi, so that they make eye contact, “Princess. Respectfully, you cannot say that if you aren’t in my mess hall every morning.”

This makes Azzi sit up slightly, leaning her weight onto her arm “What do you mean?” 

How could Paige even begin to explain without pulling her hair out.

These past few weeks, Paige has felt like the last standing man, holding onto her final dredges of sanity, amongst this apocalypse of Joseph-’itis’. Everyone was infected. It seems like once her feet step even one centimeter outside the safety of her small dormitory, she’s bombarded by ‘Joseph this’, ‘Joseph that’, and most notably, ‘Joseph wants to court our princess! How exciting! Oh they would be the most perfect match!’. She’s pretty sure she even overheard the florist planning their wedding arrangements.

Bewilderingly, the castle has become a beehive about this man, ‘Joseph Talbot’, buzzing straight through her skull the moment she dares to open her eyes. The everlasting rumours are enough to grind her teeth raw. But by now, it’s less gossip, and more like torture. It’s almost like fate gets off on laughing, pissing and stomping on Paige all at once, because of course the collective hysteria had to be all surrounding Councillor Talbot’s son.  

Councillor Talbot is a dick.

Talbot has been the undying thorn pricking her side since the day she arrived at the palace with nothing but her pride and an empty stomach. But all he could see looking down at her, was a dirty track of mud, belonging back out onto the streets. 

He had made it his personal mission to block Paige from joining the royal guard, and that knowledge still stings every time she passes him in the halls. If it had not been for Their Majesties stepping in, he would’ve tossed her out like his waste scraps.

Azzi’s complete naivety to the Joseph-’mania’ running rampant through the castle shocks Paige, who’s been battered over, and over again by every good virtue he possesses and what bloody shampoo he uses. God, even in the bathhouse she couldn’t escape. Two palace laundresses just had to gush over the ‘impressive’ size of his private parts while she was still uncomfortably moist and trying not to slip on the grimy shower floors. 

And each time his name flutters too close to Azzi's in a sentence, an unknown feeling twists hotly in Paige’s chest and a flare dives uncontrollably up her neck. 

“Nothing, just a rumor I heard,” is what Paige settles on. 

“No, really. Please Paige. If everyone’s speaking about me, don’t you think I have a right to know?”

Her voice is so soft and sad as she begs and not even the strongest, most resilient soldier could stand tall in the face of Azzi Fudd. 

“Some of the workers say he’s interested in courting you. Officially. But I’m sure not too many people are speaking of it, Princess, so don’t worry your pretty head about it.” That’s a lie. But just because Paige is suffering amongst the flood of Joseph-romancing-Azzi worshippers, doesn’t mean Azzi has to as well. 

But clearly Paige’s placating words do little to soothe her, because Azzi groans loudly, shoving her face into the sheets right next to Paige’s neck. They’re still lying next to each other, and a few of Azzi’s dark curls tickle Paige’s skin. She never wants to move.

“Court me?” Azzi cries out, now looking at Paige as if she had spoken a foreign language “Like, for marriage?”

“It’s only a rumour, Your Highness,” Paige shakes her head to hopefully calm Azzi down. She now wishes she hadn’t brought up the topic at all, 

“But you were saying the maids were talking about me. And him,” Azzi shivers, “He’s ‘interested in courting me?’. What does that even mean, Paige? I’ve never even kissed anyone!” 

The last admission slips out, too raw for it to be intentional.

Now, Paige knows this. On a theoretical scale. She’s with Azzi from the moment she leaves her room to the time her head hits the pillow to go to sleep. Logistically, it would be impossible for Azzi to have gathered any experience of the sort without Paige knowing. The royal guard’s utmost diligence towards her job has prevented any opportunity for Azzi to even sneak off to entertain secret trysts or flirtations. Paige knows all of the princess’s routines, habits, anxieties, and what every cough secretly signals.

But to hear it out loud knocks out Paige’s breath.

Azzi rounds on her suddenly, completely turning her body so she faces Paige full on, “You’ve kissed people before.” 

Paige pauses, then exhales, “I have…”. Her voice is low, now that their heads are so close together and her words don’t have to travel much distance. It’s almost like they’re sharing each breath.

If possible, the princess leans in further, “So what’s it like? Kissing someone?”

The older one looks away, back up to the ceiling. “Prince-,” she cuts herself off like it pains her, “I can’t discuss this with you.”

Paige's throat bobbles, and when she swallows it's like there’s glass. It’s true. She has had experiences before. Girls who live in her village on a random off day. Someone who was interested during one of their routine scouts to a nearby kingdom. Nice girls. Pretty. But also brief. And pull nothing from her compared to how her heart sings whenever Azzi smiles. But propriety pulls all these dangerous thoughts to a halt. 

Duty. Rank.

“Paige, please. I don’t have anyone else to ask about this.”

“It wouldn’t be proper. Not between a guard and a princess,” Paige murmurs softly.

“Oh,” Azzi whispers, “Right. Proper.”

Her eyes narrow and brows screw together. Paige can do nothing but watch uselessly as hurt begins to fill Azzi’s brown eyes. Her jaw trembles as she continues.

“So,” eyes now looking directly through Paige, “I tell you everything. Every fear, every nightmare, every embarrassing little thought,” she laughs, bitterly, “And you give me nothing. I know nothing about you.”

“I do share things with you, Princess.”

“Yeah, maybe what time you’re scheduled to meet with my parents. Or perhaps you tell me where I shouldn’t go for my safety. But nothing real. Not really. Not who you are,” she shakes her head, words wet and eyes weak, “Sometimes, Paige, it feels like I don’t even know you. Not the way that I should after all these years. Not the way I-”

Her voice cracks. She bites her lip. Her words cut Paige deeper than any sword has.

“And meanwhile,” she adds sharply, “you speak of some son, of some councillor, who’s out there ready to court me. As if he could possibly understand me better than you do.”

Paige’s eyes flicker to Azzi, who’s looking back at her. The heat of her stare burns, and she has to look away again. She can’t look too long, because if she dares, all the truths she’s kept pressed tight to her chest will rise to the surface. Who she aches for. Who she meets in the quiet of her dreams. That it’s Azzi Fudd around whom her whole world- whole heart- orbits.

She can’t look too long at the sun. 

“Enough about them,” Azzi cuts the silence, voice brittle, trying to shove the moment back to wherever it came from.

Paige chokes out, “I couldn’t agree more,” though her entire body is vibrating. In her mind, her self-control is screaming at her, reminding her of the rank she possesses, and how far below it is underneath a royal’s. Anything between them isn’t just unthinkable. It’s forbidden.

But the only person she truly wishes to think about, to kiss, to call hers, is the princess lying right beside her, less than a hand length apart, too hurt and too furious to actually see the truth.

“Guard, you must help me. What should I wear for tonight?” Azzi drags Paige over to the corner of her room.

The breakfast tray has been cleared and both girls now stand closer to the wardrobe in Azzi’s suite.  

“Whatever you’d like, Princess,” Paige mumbles with one arm crossed over the other, “Would you like me to go fetch your maid?”

“No! Paige, come on. Please help me, seriously. I have all lots of dark colours. Or would you prefer lighter? Let me look for some!”

As Azzi starts throwing out all sorts of dress options onto her bed, Paige feels utterly overwhelmed by choice. She may be comfortable on training grounds and duel circles, but fashion has never been her strong suit, which doesn’t help much given Azzi’s famously indecisive nature. During the day she dons the navy colour of her royally appointed uniform, with shoulder pads which accentuate her build, and patterned with golden buttons that definitely cost more than a week's worth of her family’s food. On her off days, she’ll opt for simple pants and a fitted t-shirt to battle the heat. The furthest thing from royal.

“I’m not sure I have much insight to give you, Your Highness,” she says stiffly.

“But I want to look attractive for the person I care about,” Azzi huffs indignantly. 

Paige thinks she must be referring to Princess Georgia, from Kingdom Amoore, who will be in attendance tonight. Georgia has attended the last couple of events with her family, which was noticed by Paige since she couldn’t seem to stay far from Azzi for very long. Every time she  pulled out Azzi’s chair for her, a prickle stirred in Paige’s insides; she wasn’t used to anyone else taking over her role. And once she pushed the chair in for her, Georgia would always take up the seat beside Azzi for herself, a trend that Azzi seems to be naively oblivious to. The agitation only grew every time Georgia would lean over to kiss Azzi on the cheek as they bid goodbye. Paige hopes Azzi couldn’t feel her watching stare from the edge of the room, from which she was surveying, and crosses her fingers Azzi didn’t see it as anything more than a friendly gesture.

But Paige could tell Georgia was very much intent on developing this budding friendship into something more, perhaps going as far as to ask for Azzi’s hand one day. Though as much as it hurt Paige to see someone of proper upbringing and correct rank revel so freely in Azzi’s affections, she couldn’t blame either parties.

Remembering the red flowers Georgia had sent as a gift to Azzi last week, she looks to a red dress hung up by the door, “Why not that one?”

Azzi looks at where she’s pointing and smiles greatly, “Why? Do you like it?” and she quickly walks over to fetch it off the hanger.

Paige thinks she feels Azzi’s wide eyes on her looking to her for something, daring Paige to speak her mind. That really anything Azzi wears would look straight out of a dream. But to not reveal her true, surely inappropriate thoughts, she continues to look at the dress without glancing the Princess’s way.

“I mean, it honestly does not matter. Are you sure you don’t want to fetch someone else to help?” 

This makes Azzi turn around and put her hand high on Paige’s chest, “Guard. Stay here. Understand?”

Blushing hotly, Paige can only nod in place. 

But before she can even blink, Azzi starts pulling the ties of her morning dress loose so that the fabric draped around her shoulders falls to her waist. Paige’s brain flatlines.

Paige doesn’t have time to prepare herself as the dress drops further off Azzi’s waist. She is left defenceless before the smoothness of her skin, the elegant slopes from her neck to her shoulders, and everything else her knightly training never prepared her for. 

While Paige tries to check herself, Azzi steps into the red dress quickly, and turns her back to Paige completely unfazed.

“Buttons, please,” Azzi orders shortly.

Paige reaches forward, grasping each of the open sides of Azzi’s dress with her rough, calloused fingers, completely unworthy of touching any fabric this delicate. While pulling each button carefully through each of its holes, her eyes can’t help but devour the curves of her waist and the constellation of small freckles decorating her spine. 

Azzi looks over her shoulder to glance at Paige, and her attention knocks Paige off her rhythm, causing her thumb to accidentally graze a spot on Azzi’s back. The contact sends an electric current through both of them. The air is so hot with tension that Paige has to pause to take a breather before she can continue. 

Azzi giggles at Paige, oblivious to how flustered the poor girl actually is, “Paige, you’ve fought in the mightiest battles, against the strongest enemies - never once have you shown a hint of weakness. And all it takes is a couple of buttons?”

“My weakness…” Paige murmurs, hoping to God she didn’t finish that sentence out loud. 

My weakness… is you

After the final button’s been clasped, Azzi turns around to reveal the front of her dress.

Paige is ruined. Absolutely obliterated. Just bury her right here.

The redness of her dress is deeper and richer than anything Paige has seen before. The design wraps around Azzi’s waist so perfectly that whoever made it must’ve had a personal vendetta against her, Paige thinks. The neckline is effortlessly regal and the train flows off of her waist like silk poured over moonlight. It feels like a hurricane has whipped Paige off her feet.

The sleeves end exactly where they needed to, drawing attention to Azzi’s collarbones and accentuating her neck to appear impossibly breathtaking. Paige’s hands ache to trace over every inch of exposed skin, if only to check whether Azzi existed mortal in the flesh and not from Paige’s wildest fantasies.

Red has never looked this stunning.

“So… do you like it?” the Princess asks with her shy smile and a heart looking to please.

Paige is sure her voice would fail her if she were to even try to speak, much less lie about the true extent of her admiration, so she opts for the safer option. 

Nod. Clench jaw. Look down at the floor. 

Azzi frowns, taking Paige’s lack of response as unimpressed, “That bad?”

The way Paige is looking anywhere but her right now just confirms to Azzi that her dress must be too boring to catch her guard’s attention. Or maybe it’s too over the top for someone as no nonsense as Paige. If something as special as this dress couldn’t catch Paige’s attention, maybe she should just give up. Her rising insecurities itch at her to take the dress off right away, because, if Paige had liked it, wouldn’t she be unable to take her eyes off of her? 

“Fine. Undo me,” she says, turning so her back faces her guard.

Azzi sweeps her hair over one shoulder, exposing her neck, waiting for Paige’s hands.

I am so doomed, Paige thinks as something helpless and agonising twists inside of her. Azzi’s words disarm Paige and she has to flex her fingers and inhale sharply before she can bring herself to touch Azzi again. 

Undo me. 

Her mind spirals away from her, straight to the darker places she tries to keep locked away. The places that only come alive when she’s alone in bed, with one hand clamped over her mouth to smother the warm, desperate sounds…

and the other buried in her underwear.

God, please forgive me, Paige thinks. 

She’s now walking down the hall by herself with her fingertips still tingling, like they’re reminiscing the luxury  of Azzi’s skin underneath. The guilt is eating away at her and she keeps flexing then relaxing her hands over and over in an attempt to rid the feeling. But her efforts are in vain.

She cannot be having these thoughts. It’s improper. She is the Princess’s royal guard, sworn to protect her from any danger. She wasn’t hired to froth over Azzi’s stunning curves, elegant posture, beautiful face, perfect as-. Enough.

Her running thoughts are interrupted when she notices an unusual light leaking from underneath a random door to an office no one typically uses. Coming closer to investigate, she picks up hushed murmurs creeping out of it.

“What if the Princess does not agree to the proposal? What do we do then?”

Paige is struck with shock. She knows that voice. It’s Joseph Talbot, the man himself, and clearly he’s worried about something urgent based on his tone.

The second voice replies coldly, “She does not need to agree. Once the King signs the treaty, the throne will be ours, son.”

There’s no mystery to who the other person in the office is. Even if he hadn’t uttered the last word, the slimy cadence he possesses is identifiable enough for Paige to peg the second voice as Councillor Talbot. 

Barely processing what this conversation could possibly mean, she edges closer to the door in attempt to hear the words clearer.

Joseph again, “But the Queen of Mystilheim is expecting proof of our cooperation.”

“And she will receive it, there is no need to fret,” Councillor Talbot. “Our shipments begin their journey across the border at first light, tomorrow. Everyone in this palace is too blind and stupid to notice.”

“But what about the King?” Joseph must be considering, knowing him and his wife could be a real danger to this operation. Not much gets past their perceptive minds.

“He won’t be a problem for much longer.” 

Shuffles of chairs and footsteps on creaking wood spring Paige into action. She darts quickly around the corner behind a curtain, veiled from sight. 

Her heart is pumping, almost hammering straight through her chest. Each pulse pounds against her eardrums and her fear is so loud she’s afraid the two men may be able to hear it.

What is going on? Azzi getting forced into a political marriage? Illegal dealings with another Queen? A threat to the King’s life?

Never before has Paige been confronted by a threat so close, one rising straight from inside the castle itself.

But before she can unpack a single piece of what she’s just overheard, the clock strikes into the next hour. She’s late to pick up Azzi from her suite. Growing laughs and greetings signal guests are already arriving in the foyer. There’s no time to confront Councillor Talbot. No time to think. No time to act. 

And even if there were, what could she possibly do? 

The second the Councillor finds out Paige has become privy to their conversation, he wouldn’t hesitate to find any excuse to have her exiled. Or worse, killed. She must not let anyone know of what she knows.

Paige feels utterly useless. The impressive medallions that spread across her chest, proof of every battle she’s fought and won, mean nothing in the face of a threat she can’t swing her blade at. This particular enemy hides in his council chambers and clouds behind courtly smiles.

Within these palace walls, she is caged, watched and powerless to take action that won’t cost Paige her life. There’s nothing she can do… not while she's still inside the castle.

“Paige! Just come in!” Azzi calls through the door.

Paige almost doesn’t hear her muffled voice, still reeling from the conversation she had only just overheard.

She turns her mouth to the crack between the closed door and the wall and clears her throat, “Princess, I am not making the same mistake as this morning,” calling back to when Azzi last trapped Paige in her suite for hours.

Instead, she straightens her guard uniform and remains firmly in the hallway. Like she’s supposed to. 

Good.

She reminds herself that her job is simple: wait outside, escort Azzi from her bedroom to the ballroom and then straight back. That is it.

Not sharing breakfast with her in stolen pockets of soft moments. Not unbuttoning her gown until it slips off of her frame. And definitely not imagining her naked in a different, somehow even less appropriate context.

She grounds herself and takes a deep breath in.

Finally, the door opens, and Paige doesn’t know why she even bothers.

The effortless sweep of Azzi’s exposed leg steps out first. Her ankles tilt gracefully in her sharply pointed shoes. Then it’s followed by what Paige can only describe as her undoing. 

The princess emerges fully in a living artwork of purple. The dress flows around her waist elegantly like a mist of Paige’s dreams, and its iridescent sheen catches the lantern light in delicate glimmers. Modest in some places, devastatingly daring in others, and absolutely unfair everywhere. 

Pastel purple. Of course, out of all the colours, Azzi chose the one that unravels Paige the most. It seems all the logic has fled her body, because there’s no universe in which the younger girl could have known the full effect this would possibly have on Paige’s mental state. 

“Ready?” Azzi’s dimples flash as she smiles, which further ruins Paige's ability to think. She’s just completely naive to the meltdown happening less than a meter away.

Paige barely manages to offer a nod. 

Satisfied, Azzi slips a gentle arm through Paige’s with a practiced ease of habit, and together they set off towards the ballroom.

The castle has truly outdone itself, sparing no expense for their beloved crowning princess. The ballroom is gilded in glamour, golden bursts of sparkles glittering across every surface. Crystal chandeliers drip from high-vaulted ceilings like a frozen constellation of shooting stars. Servers dance through the crowd, balancing pyramids of macarons and sugared pastries on silver trays. In the far corner, a live peacock unfurls its exotic tail feathers, no doubt some ambassador’s ‘thoughtful’ birthday gift. 

Countless guests swarm for a sliver of Azzi’s attention. Courting attempts come from all directions. The amount of nobles, princes and princesses is overwhelming, and so is their beauty. They’re all terribly eager and laughably awful at concealing their true intentions behind polite smiles and disguised casual conversation. 

Azzi greets them all with her usual grace, but Paige can see the subtle cracks beneath the facade: the slight stiffening of her shoulders, the almost-imperceptible exhale when someone steps too close.

Paige is sure she sticks out among the sea of magnificent ball gowns and tuxedos, each of which she’s certain is worth more than her entire yearly salary. But she laughs to herself, because even if her own uniform is much too plain, functional and severe in comparison, she’s the only one Azzi allows into her close personal space. When they walk, Azzi glues herself close enough so that their arms brush, only just barely. Occasionally, her hand finds Paige’s forearm when the crowd presses in. Sometimes her shoulder skims Paige’s for no reason at all.

Paige orders herself not to read into it.

And every time Paige nudges away a wandering hand daring to reach Azzi, she repeats that it's all part of her strictly professional duty to protect. 

But who is she kidding.

“Azzi!”

The loud call cuts through the crowd with an unmistakingly Australian tinge. Paige turns her shoulder to witness Princess Amoore bounding over to Azzi with the largest grin that could light every candle in the palace.

“Oh Georgia! I didn’t know you were coming!”

Georgia assures her that she would have never missed her birthday for the world, and quickly offers her wishes with the same, weirdly earnest enthusiasm she brings to everything. Must be an Australian thing. 

Before Paige can even blink, the two princess’ conversation has travelled far into deep recounts of Georgia’s recent explorations around the globe, the kind that involves hemispheres and oceans and entire continents Paige has only ever heard whispers about. Her guard training limited her world to only what was relevant: their country, their enemies and their allies. Nothing further. 

Paige studies Georgia’s bright eyes, the intentional tilt of her head, and the body language that’s too deliberate to be just friendly. Quickly, her half formed theory about Georgia’s romantic interest feels more fact than delusion. This understanding hits her hard and slow, and leaves a curling traitorous feeling unravelling inside of her.

“They get along well don’t they?” 

Paige turns around to face the noise and suddenly Princess Citron is right there beside her.

Paige takes in Sonia’s familiar face, having last seen her a month ago at her horse racing event. Primarily, she remembers the sinful weather, so hot that she could see the waves of blazing heat. But secondly, she thinks back to when Azzi and Paige had gone down to the race track to congratulate the horserider for her win, as per manners would have it.

In the moment, Paige recalls feeling shocked by Sonia’s pleasing manners, having greeted both Azzi and Paige together, rather than ignoring the guard entirely, like most royals do. Many glance at Paige’s uniform and disregard her immediately, seeing her as too beneath them to even offer a smile. But instead, Sonia shook both of their hands and thanked them for their kindness. She had asked them individually for their opinions of the race, then even invited the pair to a weekend horse ride through the forest shared between their kingdoms. Not a rider herself, Azzi had immediately declined the offer with a kind grin. But that friendly smile quickly turned sour as soon as Paige hadn’t declined right after her, giving an open ended response, neither declining or accepting. 

Paige remembers feeling confused, because when they had walked back to the carriage, Azzi hadn’t uttered even a single word, continuously ignoring all of Paige’s small comments about the weather, failed attempts to start a conversation. 

“So,” Azzi had cut the silence with a sharp word, “you like horseriding all of a sudden?”

Paige had blinked slowly, genuinely at a loss. Her brows scrunched in, trying to make sense of her sudden shift in tone. 

“No? I’ve always enjoyed it. I take my horse for rounds every morning before I see you at breakfast.”

Azzi blinked, never having heard this before, “And what? You just do these little ‘rounds’ with other people I don’t know about? Other princesses?”

“No I-”

“How could you be so reckless?” she pressed, each unintelligible question tumbling out faster and more chaotic than the one before. “Who knows how divulgent you are in the morning right after you wake up. Have you been telling these girls our castle secrets? Sharing knowledge about my family?”

Paige could only stare indecorously, totally stunned. Azzi was usually one of the most rational people she knew, a picture of cool-headedness and composure. This… spiralling line of questioning felt foreign from her tongue.

“Princess,” Paige responded softly, shaking her head, “how could you even suggest that?”

She didn’t need to raise her voice. Her hurt carried more weight than anger.

“To imply that I would hand out sensitive information?” she continued. “After all this time… after everything? You know my loyalties lie in one place. Your family.”

With you, she didn’t add.

Silence grew between them. It made the hot air feel denser, heavier… unfamiliar. Their familiar back-and-forth teasing had no place here. This was too sharp, too real.

After the long pause, Azzi exhaled shakily and finally looked up into Paige’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.” The words came quiet, but sincere nonetheless, “I don’t know what came over me. To accuse you like that…”

Azzi paused to shake her head, clearly disappointed in herself. She took a breath to rectify, “You’re the most loyal guard I’ve ever met.”

Paige hummed in agreement, the sting still lingering, but relief soothing over it.

“I’m the only guard you’ve ever had.” The joke felt like the waving of a white flag. 

As quickly as it had come, the storm passed. At least Azzi could see how unfair she had been.

“And anyway,” Paige said, letting a small grin pull at her lips, “it’s not like I’d have time to ride with Sonia. Not with the number of hours I spend at your side… listening to all your whining.”

On any other day, Azzi would volley the jab right back with something about Paige being the reason she had anything to complain about. But that day she hadn’t. Just the reassurance that Paige hadn’t actually been considering Sonia’s offer was more than enough to soothe her nerves. 

It was enough to keep that small smile of satisfaction on her face for the entire carriage ride home.

Tuning back into Sonia’s attempt at a conversation, Paige nods to her in a friendly acknowledgment of recognition. 

“Seems like it. You know her?” Paige inquires, hoping it comes off as casual curiosity, rather than the jealous spike that actually prompted the question.

“Georgia? Yes, we’ve known each other since we were kids. One of the truest, most loyal I’ve ever met.” 

Fuck. Now Paige can’t even pretend she hates Georgia for being terrible.

“A little strange at times though, always saying these odd phrases. But I suppose that’s just Australians,” Sonia adds lightly.

Hm, at least Paige could have that.

“Do you remember me? I’m Sonia, Princess of Mystilheim,” Sonia extends her hand gracefully, palm facing the floor, so the top curls gently beneath Paige’s mouth in a gesture clearly expecting a kiss.

She replays the title in her mind.

Princess of Mystilheim. Mystilheim.

Her thoughts snap back to the conversation from the hallway. 

“But the Queen of Mystilheim is expecting proof of our cooperation.”

It’s as if the clock stops ticking. A map unfolds in her mind, peices sliding into place in a connected, horrifying clarity.

Councilor Talbot. Sonia’s mother. The councillor and Queen Citron are in cahoots in a plan to overtake Azzi’s kingdom. 

And Azzi will be at the very centre of it all. 

Paige, polite on instinct, bends and briefly touches her lips to Sonia’s knuckles, nothing more, nothing less. She forces her eyes closed for a moment and wills her expression to remain calm, betraying nothing.

She thinks - no. She knows that Azzi’s eyes are on her back for whatever reason. But Paige refuses to turn around. She can’t trust her own face to not reveal the terror storming in her own eyes. Or worse, she doesn’t want to risk witnessing Georgia leaning in close to Azzi, brushing shoulder to shoulder. 

“Do you like coming to events like these, Paige?” Sonia asks. 

Paige is ripped away from her revelation, and snaps back into the conversation. Maybe she should attempt to learn about Sonia. After all, you should keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. 

“The role of my job extends me to be here,” her answer is clipped. Her mind is already focused on calculating how to extract any information from this princess without raising suspicion.

“I take it they are not your favourite? How about sports, or horseriding?” 

Paige politely lists her typical hobbies outside of the castle. She returns the question back to Sonia, letting their exchanging of information flow. With every sentence, Paige throws a look in Azzi’s direction, tracking Georgia, scanning the crowd, checking for every potential threat. 

She engages in two missions at once: learn everything she can from Sonia, and watch for any danger in the room.

Both funnel into the same purpose.  

Protect Azzi. 

To be perfectly honest, Azzi cannot pinpoint the exact moment she started tuning out from Georgia. Azzi is sure that the Australian Princess is perfectly friendly, but her attention is entirely glued elsewhere. Irritatingly, it’s stuck to where Paige stands a few meters away, beside Sonia. 

An itchy hotness simmers at the base of Azzi’s neck, a prickling fire that makes the threads of dress feel like they’re shrinking tighter by the second. The scenes replay in her head: Paige’s tall stature leaning in towards Sonia, Paige’s eyes blue and focused, Paige’s soft lips kissing Sonia’s hand as if that were perfectly acceptable behavior.

Wasn’t Paige supposed to be her personal guard? As in, she’s meant to be guarding her, personally? Whatever her job entailed, it definitely doesn’t include paying all this attention to whatever other princess happens to stroll up whenever they feel like it. But here she was, smiling at Sonia of all people, directing all her concentration to whatever garb the other girl has to say, that Azzi doubts is even interesting.

Something dull about horses, probably.

Honestly. What if a criminal crashed through the ceiling rafter right this second and tried to kidnap her? Or what if an assassin was currently tunnelling through the soil to burst up through the ballroom tires like some rat, ready to snatch her?

How could Paige possibly be prepared for such a catastrophe when she is over there. Talking… no, even worse. Laughing with Sonia. 

Hell, Azzi could be dead on the floor right this second, and Paige wouldn’t even know.

How abominable.

Not being able to stand this for a moment longer, Azzi mutters a goodbye to Georgia and throws out something about needing to greet her parents. Each click of her heels land harder than a princess should ever allow, but Azzi can’t bring herself to care.

Thankfully, she spots her parents near the archway, but much to her displeasure, they have the company of a queen from another kingdom. Logically, Azzi should know that this is the routine diplomacy that these events demanded. But tonight, when her chest is already wound up tight and Paige is nowhere to be seen behind her, it makes Azzi want to pull her hair out and slam every door available in the palace. 

“Princess Azzi! Happy Birthday!” the visiting queen beams, thankfully not picking up on her misery. “My daughter Sonia spoke so highly of you!”

Well… just her luck. 

In the efforts of trying to escape Sonia, she just has to be blessed with the Princess’s very own mother.

“Did she?” Azzi forces out through gritted teeth, though even she could hear the flatness in her voice.

“Oh yes indeed! Ever since her race last month. I swear, we could not hear the end of it! She was just enamoured and kept going on and on about you and your guard - what was her name again?”

God, please help her. She breathes in deeply in an attempt to ground herself against the urge to turn and forget this conversation ever happened. 

“Paige,” she sighs, unable to avoid it from slipping out.

“Paige! Yes! That’s right.” The queen clapped her hands softly, “My darling Sonia was completely and utterly enchanted I must say. I think her words were that ‘she’d consider herself blessed if her own guard were even half as excellent!’. Loyal, strong, personable! Sonia desires a guard she can ride and chat with during her free mornings. Wouldn’t that be lovely!”

“Hmm.”

“Ah! Oh look! There they are in the corner! Azzi, don’t they make a lovely pair?”

Lovely pair? Azzi nearly vomits. 

Despite all efforts to conceal her emotions, she’s sure the twitch in her eye is obvious to everyone in the conversation. The hurricane in her chest is no longer just a brewing wind. It’s now festered into something sharper, heavier and much more ugly.

Quickly noticing his daughter’s displeasure, the King jumps in diplomatically, “Yes, Paige is extremely valuable to our family. We acquired her talents when she was just sixteen. Exceptional girl. Unmatched loyalty.”

Valuable. As if Paige is just some livestock or shiny gemstone to buy and sell. Paige isn’t something to be merely acquired. She is essential. Azzi’s closest confidant. Her anchor. Her… 

“Oh?” Sonia’s mother frowns. “So I gather she’s not available for trade? A pity. You know, my kingdom is willing to strike up a wonderful bargain, profitable for all of us. My daughter would be over the moon. Soldiers of Paige’s caliber are rare I must say. Perhaps there’s something our kingdom could offer in return?”

An unintelligible sound barks out of Azzi, something between a laugh and a scoff, and definitely not appropriate for the royal company at present. Her parents stiffen and throw her warning glances.

Trade Paige? What’s next? Auction off the whole palace?

Sonia’s mother’s expression falls for a heartbeat. It was miniscule, but Azzi caught it - a shadow behind her smile, something calculated hidden under her warm eyes. Thankfully, Azzi’s mother politely declines the suggestion with her fast and graceful diplomacy.

Azzi senses a biting comment brewing on the tip of her tongue before she even formulates the words. So before she can further escalate this poor excuse of a conversation, she clears her throat.

“Please excuse me. I need… some air. Preferably far away from this conversation.”

Without waiting for permission, she turns sharply on her heel to storm straight back to Paige. If someone is causing her this much turmoil, they’d better be within arm’s reach while doing it.

If Azzi is ever going to kill someone, she swears it's going to be tonight. Much to her readily mounting displeasure, Paige is still engaged in the same boring conversation with Sonia. Splendid.

“These grounds just have the most admirable gardens. Earlier I saw some wild orchids planted that I wanted to have a closer look at. And I’m sure you’re the expert when it comes to this palace.”

Could she be any more desperate? Azzi doesn’t care if its genuine curiosity or admiration sparking Sonia’s interest so she rolls her eyes anyways and huffs out another hot breath, for what must have been atleast the tenth of tonight.

“That’s kind of you, but I am to remain wit-”

“Paige. I have an emergency.”

Azzi’s voice slices through their chatter and locks her hand possessively around Paige’s bicep and tugging with a force of ownership. Not a request. A claim.

For the second time tonight, Azzi barrels away without a response and drags Paige along helplessly out the exit and down the service hallway

Paige can barely catch a breath as they rush into the dim light. “Princess? Are you hurt? What happened?”

Azzi doesn’t respond. She simply drags Paige into a familiar side door into the family lounge, a velvet draped room where guests aren’t allowed to set foot. The moment the door shuts, Azzi drops her hand and lets the tension that’s built up inside her breathe for a second.

She exhales dramatically and relaxes herself down onto the sofa in front of the fireplace. 

“Your Highness, what’s this emergency?” Paige demands, reeling to catch up. “You’re scaring me.”

Instead of spilling out with a specific worry or concern, Azzi just shrugs, “There was nothing wrong. I was just bored, that’s all.”

Paige stares with wide eyes of disbelief. “You cannot just drag us out and call it ‘nothing.’ This emergency signal is to be used sparingly. Princess, there must be another reason.”

Azzi looks down, suddenly finding much interest in the lit wood in the fireplace.

Paige groans internally. It’s not normal for Azzi to act so brashly and so improperly. Sure, Azzi didn’t need to tell Paige everything, even though she typically did, but she’s sure Azzi must be hiding something important.

“You have to help me help you.”

Finally, Azzi cracks, thank god.

“Fine. It’s Sonia’s mother. My god, she’s just a total piece of work. Completely unbelievable, Paige. You would never guess what she had the nerve to ask me. You know what? She barely even asked! She’s trying to trade for you like livestock to be sold to your new best friend. Sonia is probably thrilled right now. She can sense the type of reaction her mum rises out of me. She’s evil Paige. Don’t fall for her tricks.”

Her rant grows further, spiraling out of control. But Paige isn’t listening, not because of lack of care, but because something darker gnaws at her. The fear of Azzi truly having no clue of the real danger Sonia’s mother possesses. 

Azzi is on a roll, blind to the shift. “And then you,” she rounds on Paige.

“Me?”

“What did you say again? Oh yeah, I remember. ‘The role of my job extends me to be here,’” she imitates Paige’s voice, eyes narrowing. “What does that even mean? You don’t want to celebrate my birthday? That you can’t stand being here? Is that it? You just hate me?”

Paige straightens, her voice low but steady, “Princess, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“I said that because I know you. How many times have you told me big events like these overwhelm you? All the noise, the crowds, the awkward conversations.” Her tone softens. “You’ve always told me you’d prefer something small and quiet, just with the people you love.”

Suddenly the towers of anger she’s built up all melts. The confusion and anger waver and get replaced by something warm flickering between her ribs.

“That’s why I said what I said.”

The tight string that’s held Azzi taut snaps. The understanding that Paige has for her feels more intimate than a touch. It’s not even supposed to be intimate, Azzi considers, given that its her job. But the knowledge still lights her up, with heat rising beneath her skin in a slow wave. 

Paige has always had that ability to see Azzi too clearly. Calm her too easily. Unravels her without trying.

Azzi feels, before she sees, Paige lean in, her lips brushing the tip of Azzi’s ear.

“Hey,” her breath is warm and soft as she tilts Azzi’s chin up to her, “look at me.”

Azzi does. God, she always does.

Paige sits down beside her and pulls out a wrapped bundle from her jacket to hand it over. Their fingers brush and Azzi hopes the graze of their skin was intentional.

“But I thought you hadn’t gotten me anything?” Azzi blinks.

Paige’s head tilts with that small infuriating smile that means trouble.

“When,” she asks softly, “did I ever say that?”

“I-” Azzi shuts herself up, shakes her head with a smile and opens the gift. The cloth folds over, revealing a delicate chain with a small heart hanging off of it. The charm is small and gleams softly with a warm sheen.

“You…” Azzi brushes her thumb over the heart, “is this-?”

“One of my swords. I had it melted and reforged. It’s not much, but maybe it’s fitting. Something that’s from me should be yours.” I am yours.

There’s something symbolic in wearing the same silver that’s been warmed by Paige’s touch that sends a pulse through Azzi’s core, low and dizzying.

As Paige fastens it around her neck, her fingers linger for a second too long, or maybe not long enough. The older girl then moves her glance from the necklace up to Azzi’s eyes, which are already locked on her.

‘Happy Birthday, Princess.” 

Her soft words send tingles down Azzi’s spine and her exhale trembles. Paige and Azzi’s eyes connect for a short moment that really felt like hours. Azzi feels herself leaning closer before she wills it and the pulse of need continues to grow. She can’t shove it down. 

The contrast between the heat of Paige beside her and the cool silver relief around her neck is impossible to balance. Which is why the underlying jealousy slips out, sharp, defensive.

“This is very nice, Paige. And what, Sonia got the bracelet made from your shield?” she jokes, but there’s little humour in her voice.

Paige’s eyebrows raise in shock, then sighs, clearly confused at Azzi’s turbulent emotions tonight. She looks down at where their waists are almost touching and stills, as if she’s choosing her words carefully, like when she’s hiding something for Azzi’s sake.

“You know the answer to that question. Today is your day. It has nothing to do with Sonia,” Paige studies her searching for answers, “…Why do you care so much?”

Azzi doesn’t think.

“Because you’re everything to me.” 

Silence.

The words punch a shaky breath of Paige, straight from behind her lungs. Her hand lifts to Azzi’s jaw, trembling with all the restraint that she’s forced on herself for years. Years of don’t touch her, don’t want her this much, don’t destroy everything. And yet here she is, brushing her thumb over Azzi’s lip like she’s starving for a taste.

Azzi shivers. Paige feels it. 

Paige shakes her head, as if logic is ordering her to stop. But her heart pulls her gaze down to Azzi’s mouth and stays locked there.

Neither of them can breathe. 

Azzi leans in first, the slightest magnetic pull.

Paige answers by sliding her fingers to the back of Azzi’s neck, tugging her closer until their lips hover a hair’s breadth apart. Azzi trembles from the heat of Paige’s breath against her lips. When Paige inhales, as if physically fighting herself to stop, they are so close that the breath is stolen straight out of Azzi’s lungs.

“Say it again,” Paige’s lips ghost Azzi’s. “Say I’m everything.”

Azzi exhales a breath that’s basically a whine. “Paige. You are… everything to me.”

The chains break.

Paige’s mouth crashes into Azzi’s. It’s hungry, and raw. Years of restraint snapping like a sword under pressure. Paige, completely starved, intertwines her free hand with Azzi’s, like she’s terrified this will all vanish if she doesn’t hold on tight enough.

Azzi melts, fisting Paige’s collar and dragging her impossibly closer. Their bodies mould together. Her heart pounds into Paige’s chest, frantic and wanting. 

But even pressed chest to chest, it isn’t enough. Azzi pulls away so that their eyes meet for one shared breath, and one shared understanding: there’s no going back.

Azzi swings a leg over Paige’s waist and settles in her lap as the fireplace burns behind them. The spark of the first kiss was nothing compared to the wildfire of the second. They lean back together instantly, lips slotting with an unconcealable desperation. 

The rough drag of Paige’s pants slide between Azzi’s legs at just the right angle to send a flood of need through her core - so intense she gasps into Paige’s mouth. 

With a smile, Paige’s hands clamp around Azzi’s hips to pull them firmly against her. Azzi chases the kiss greedily like she’s been waiting for this her entire life.

She’s dizzy and overwhelmed. The heat between her legs and the taste of their kiss is enough to pass out. She pulls away first, breathing in and out deeply, completely wrecked and eyes begging for more. 

She leans in for the third kiss, mind blank except for one thing. Paige, Paige, Paige.

And in Paige’s head, as she watches Azzi come back closer-

Fuck.

The rising rays of dawn peek through the stained-glass windows, painting soft details of colour across the throne room, colours Paige has walked past countless of times since she was sixteen years old, without having ever really appreciated. Now, with the freshness of the early morning blessing the atmosphere of the room, the space feels achingly beautiful in a way that it bruised. Only when something is about it be lost, Paige realises, does its beauty finally make itself known.

Paige enters the vast chamber exactly the same way she has over a thousand times, but today, its grandeur hangs down over her like a weight. The soaring, painted ceiling, the golden pillars, the twin thrones that had shaped her adolescence. Suddenly she feels thrown out of body, as if she were looking at the remnants of someone else’s life. Paige tucks her trembling hands behind her back, as to not reveal the whirling tension storming inside of her.  

Sleep was an impossible feat last night. Even with her eyes closed, every memory from yesterday played against the darkness of her eyelids. It had all started out so perfect when Azzi fed her that pastry. But she couldn’t shake Councillor Talbot’s conversation she overheard, and what it could possibly mean. And finally, the kiss. 

The kiss.

But now she wishes she had spent more time reflecting on all the memories, lessons and hopes she’s tied to this palace. Now she stands before the King and Queen, the rulers who had raised her as their own, and had offered her protection and purpose when no one else could. She mourns not only what she is about to lose, but also the future she had so surely imagined for herself within these walls. 

The battle between fear and duty to her kingdom rages beneath her ribs. With each breath, she understands, with a striking clarity that makes her feel suddenly older, that this moment will bring about an irreversible shift.

“Darling, what is so important you requested to speak to us so early in the morning? What troubles you?” the Queen asks.

Even five years ago, when Paige was a mere stranger to the couple, they had always spoken to her with this gift of warmth, affection and love they never needed to give, but chose to anyway. Even now, against her repeated insistence that they address her with formality, they still called her ‘darling’, as if she was truly their daughter.

Paige inhales shakily, then, “I am concerned for the safety of your kingdom, Your Majesty.”

Gasps arise from both the King and Queen.

Tim leans forward in his throne, eyes wide, and voice low but strained, “Safety of our kingdom? Tell us, are we in danger?”

Paige’s eyes drop to the floor. She couldn’t say what she overheard, not without proof. Not without risking all of their lives based on her speculation alone.

“I cannot speak of my theories yet. Not without complete certainty… and not without putting you and your daughter at risk.”

Lines of worry now cut into the King’s face, “Guard, you are asking us to trust you blindly on this?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Just this once,” Paige’s voice cracks with the emotion spilling over.

Katie’s brows soften, her maternal instinct shining through her fear. When she stretches her arm out, Paige lowers her head slightly in a bow so the Queen can gently stroke the side of her face.

“Paige. You must know by now, whatever burden you carry, you do not carry it alone.”

The kindness radiating through her touch makes it even harder for Paige to breathe. Her throat burns..

“There are too many eyes on me here, Your Grace. If I stay, I don’t have faith that I can protect you. But if I leave, I may find what I need to keep your daught-” she pauses, “...to keep the kingdom safe.”

These words send a stronger shock of worry through the couple. Tim shares a silent, terrified glance with the Queen, and their realisation to what her words imply is unified. This threat is close. Too close. Maybe even within these very walls.

“Oh darling,” the Queen whispered, “What are you walking yourself into?”

Paige bowed her head, “Something I must face on my own.”

A beat of silence.

Her heart trembles. Then it hardens. 

Armour over fear.

“Therefore,” she lowers to a kneel beneath the watchful stained-glass angels, “I’m placing a formal request for resignation.”