#knight!james

You always dreamed of marrying someone handsome with a good heart—someone that made you laugh, that would protect you with every inch of his being. Sure, the prince before you did have money, charm, a smile— but none of it was what you wanted.

It was duty that tugged at you, nothing more.

You were dressed in lace and white silk that wrapped around your bodice. It clung like starlight, untouchable, even when your hands laid in the prince’s. His crown gleamed atop of this stupid blonde hair, smug as his smile.

James's fingers itched to reach for his sword to draw, just to give that prince a warning —but knights obeyed. And James would always obey you, even if it broke him.

His darkened brown eyes peeked through the armoured visor, a few wisps of his black curls that peeked through.

It was no secret James was head over heels for you, from a confession he spoke of months ago—but you had turned it aside, not cruelly, but for your parents. So, here you both were.

As the vows hung in the air, he knew that if you spoke? It would end him—reduce him to nothing more than a sword that served you. He wasn’t sure he could survive that, and James wasn’t one to be silent.

He cleared his throat, a strained voice reaching your ears. “Your choice, Princess. No one else’s.”

The words were supposed to be dutiful, but even you could sense the plea in them. You swallowed, eyes darting between your parents and that boring prince.

You then took one glance at James, reminded of the argument you both had just moments before, him confronting you: You’re going to marry that bloke? After everything you’ve told me?

You fought back, because you couldn’t admit how right he was, throwing duty in his face—while James threw your own words back at you. After that, he settled, because he still couldn’t lose you—even if you weren’t his to have in the first place.

That lingered. The sting of it, stuck to you like a plaster you couldn’t quite get off. Your gaze tore back to the prince, who was gleaming down at you with practised charm, like this was a transaction and you were a prize to be collected.

Then you looked at James again—him with that stubborn fire in his eyes, the one who knew you more than you knew yourself. Your heart hammed beneath your gown, knowing that if you said yes, you’d bound yourself to eternal duty. And if you said no? You’d be banished—free, but doomed to be alone.

Just as you parted your lips to speak, another voice broke in at the same time.

“I can’t—”

“You can’t—”

It was James’, and the prince’s face dropped. You shoved the man’s hands away, overwhelmed, eyes wide with panic. “I’m sorry I just can’t—”

Your mother’s look hardened into you, your father quirking up a brow in warning. You shook your head, tears flooding your eyes—and then you bolted, away from the arch, your skirt catching on your heels as you ran.

Your father’s voice thundered at the guards, to stop you towards the doors.

“Oi, sweetheart!” James called out after you, already breaking every oath of duty he’d ever sworn to.

He sprinted after you, sword drawn half from its sheath until he was at your side, catching you just before the guards did.

He had one gauntlet braced against your stomach, stepping in front of you with the other hand raising his blade.

“She wants to leave. You lot let her through, yeah? Be decent to women and I’ll consider being decent to you.”

Even then, in the middle of defying your father’s orders, James had the audacity to smirk, a flash of cockiness that was meant to hide how much his heart was tearing wide open. The guards faltered, uncertain as they exchanged looks.

James, sweet James, doing his best in an attempt to both impress and protect you, but you were in the middle of a breakdown, shoving at his chest to barge at the guards.

“Just open this fucking door!” Your voice cracked in a mix of fury and grit, tears streaking down your makeup, your mascara pooling under your eyes.

You looked threatening, like appearing out of a nightmare. The guards cleared their throats, instantly parting as you made your way through.

And James—bless him—just stood there, drinking it all in with a dopey smile on his face. You were terrifying, unstoppable, and he never loved you more.

“Blimey…” He breathed, staring after you with a lovesick manner, until he barely remembered to chase after you when you stormed into the fields just outside the castle walls. “Remind me to never piss you off, or do—”

“Oh shut it!” You snapped through your tears, refusing to look back.

James only lifted his hands in mock surrender, still terribly in love. “Yes, Princess.”

He said it so effortlessly, like he always planned to blindly follow you into exile. It only angered you more in how perfect he was—to the point that you’d ruined your wedding for it.

You sunk onto a hay bale in the grasslands, melting into it with broken sobs. James slowed his steps until he was in front of you, armour clanking against each other as he went down on one knee—not out of duty this time, but to give his utmost devotion to you.

His helmet came off first, scattered onto the grassy ground next to his sword—his chestplate off next, until he stood in nothing but his linen and those dorky glasses he always wore when he was out of armour.

He spread his arms, and his voice gentled into something that sounded like worship. “C’mere, love. It’s just me now.”

That sweet tone broke you, and you met his gaze through blurred vision, reaching for him. His arms wrapped around you instantly, his broad biceps and muscly shoulders encasing you in a fortress of warmth.

“Can’t believe you did that.” He whispered into your hair, half in awe and half disbelief, a soft grin he couldn’t hide—even as he soothed your crying with strokes to your hair.

“You left. You left that sorry sod and I couldn’t be happier, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, but now I have nothing!” You sobbed out muffledly into his chest, fisting at the linen shirt to tug him closer. “I’m—banished. My parents hate me. I’ve ruined everything, James—”

You just rambled on and on between sniffles, voice thick with tears and mucus. He cupped the back of your head to soothe, keeping you grounded.

“And I have everything.” He finally spoke, voice certain as he pressed a kiss to your hair, letting his lips linger.

You froze at his words, because you knew he meant it. He wasn’t just saying it out of comfort. He believed it.

Leaving the kingdom should’ve felt like losing everything, but with you in his arms, he gained the only thing that mattered—and perhaps, that’s how you were meant to feel too.

“You’ve got me,” James murmured softly, like he read your mind. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You wrapped your arms around him tighter, finally moving your head to the crook of his neck to breathe. “I’m sorry. I never should’ve—never should’ve done it in the first place—I’ve ruined everything.”

James let you say it. He let you speak, stroking your hair repeatedly, steady for you as he gently quieted you in shushes.

He leaned back to see your eyes and you caught a glimpse of his handsome face, no longer hidden behind metal. His soft brown skin was illuminated by the sun, matching the colour of his irises, a dark honey behind his thin round frames.

“You haven’t ruined a bloody thing, angel.” He said softly, thumb stroking across your cheek to catch a stray tear as you sniffled. “Except maybe that prat’s day—and for that, you’ve got my eternal thanks. Honestly.”

You gave a weak watery laugh and watched his grin soften, his brown eyes fixed on you like you were the only star in the sky.

“D’you know what you looked like back there?” He asked, voice hushed but the ends of his lips twitching upward. “Maddening. Brilliant. I mean, you had half the guards pissing themselves from all that. Swear I just fell more in love, if that’s even possible.”

He gently brushed a strand of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, flashing that charming smile of his.

You scrunched your nose in a small smile. “You can’t just say that.”

“That I fell more in love? Course I can. Someone’s got to worship you properly.” He leaned in, his dark curls falling into his eyes as his lips ghosted yours.

“I don’t just fancy you, y’know. I’m absolutely mad for you. So mad.” He said in a soft steady tone that made your breath hitch with how much he meant it.

Of course he confessed to you before, but you had brushed it away with force. Now? You had no choice but to face it as he gently cupped your jaw.

“And judging from today…reckon you’re just as mad for me too.”

“Maybe.” You murmured back, cheeks reddening under his gaze.

“So stubborn.” He drawled, quirking an amused brow. “Could find better use for that stubborn mouth—”

“James!” You smacked his broad chest, and he clutched it dramatically, feigning injury.

“I meant a kiss, darling! C’mon, been dying to do it for ages.” He murmured and gave the most obnoxious pout you had ever seen.

You sighed like it was charity work, rolling your eyes before your arms found the back of his neck. You leaned in, and so did he, gazing at you until your lips barely touched.

“So pretty.” He whispered, and before you had a chance to reply, his lips found yours.

It was clumsy at first—James bumping his nose against yours, his glasses sliding crooked, your dried tears still damp between you. But it was all real, sparking something in him, his heart hammering against his chest as he tugged you closer—one hand at the small of your back, and one cupping your cheek.

You didn’t wanna pull back when his lips were so soft, and neither did he—until finally you both were so breathless that you parted. His thumb brushed your slightly swollen lower lip with a grin.

“Thank the stars. Thought I'd have to take that one to my grave.”

Your laugh bubbled out again, and James Potter—your knight, your fool, your worshipper—swore he’d spend the rest of his days chasing that sound, even when it was a fortnight later.

Freedom still felt strange for you, no longer tied down by those absurd royal expectations.

The cottage given to James by his parents was tucked against the woods, ivy vines climbing on its stone walls. It was small, homely, and utterly unlike the massive castle walls you and James had grown up in—and you loved it for that very reason.

You had never run in a garden barefoot before, never pressed your bare soles against the soft blades of grass. It would’ve been a stupid note of freedom to anyone else—but as a princess, you were allowed very little things.

You giggled at the tickles of clover beneath you, hiking up your skirt to trod through the sunken fields of daisies—a giggle that James chased as usual, watching you as he stood back against the stone walls of the cottage.

His glasses slipped down his nose, a grin tugging wider with every step you took. He’d fought battles, broken bones—but nothing undid him the way you did, with your hair following the wind, the joy that poured out of you.

He cupped his hands around his mouth, calling out, “Careful, my love! Might be rocks hiding out there—wouldn’t want you limping before supper!”

Despite his lecture, you could feel that smile through his words, and you stuck your tongue out in response, skipping faster. “Still better than marrying that bore of a prince!”

He huffed a half-laugh, already pushing off the wall to jog after you. “Oi, c’mere before you get yourself hurt—”

You just grinned, glancing back at him—until your foot caught a root buried under the grass. You stumbled, skirt tangling around your legs, shin hitting hard against stone.

“Bloody hell—” James was there in a blink, dropping to his knees at your side. His hands hovered everywhere at once, frantic, until they settled on your calf. “Where? Where does it hurt, baby? Tell me, I’ll carry you in—I’ll fetch bandages—”

His eyes were wide, full protector mode, and your heart ached at how easily he worried for you. You tried to laugh it off to try and soothe him, showing him the scrape that was turning into a budding bruise. “It’s nothing, James—”

But he was already fussing, tugging out a handkerchief he had tucked in his pocket, dabbing at your shin with the same seriousness as a battlefield medic.

“James—”

“Hush,” his brows furrowed as he murmured, curls falling into his glasses as he held your calf. His fingers were careful, brushing dirt from your skin—your knight without his shining armour, tending to you like glass.

“Nearly stopped my heart, seeing you fall. Doesn’t matter if it’s a stone or a sword, I’ll always come running. Yeah?” His free hand came up, thumb smoothing over your cheek.

Your heart fluttered at the certainty in his voice, full of that care and reverence he only had for you.

James glanced up at you, eyes dark and earnest before he muttered. “Nothing, she says.” A smug look spread across his face. “Looks to me like you lost a duel with a rock.”

“Oi!” You gave a shove to his shoulder and he grinned, wrapping the handkerchief firmly around your calf before pressing a ridiculous, tender kiss to it.

“There. Healed.”

You laughed again, rolling your eyes. “That’s not how healing works.”

“Works fine for me.” He sat back on the grass beside you, tugging you carefully onto his lap, chest brushing your back with the ease of someone who decided you’d belonged there.

His arms curled around your waist, chin settling on your shoulder as you both gazed out at the wildflowers. You had never felt more safe, the warmth of his arms spreading across your skin.

For a while, you were both silent, taking in the rustle of the leaves and the wind that whistled through the blades of grass.

Then, James murmured quietly, “Y’know, that’s the first time I’ve seen you like this. Free.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you turned to gaze at him, seeing his eyes soften from the likes of you.

“And it’s the most beautiful bloody thing I’ve ever seen.”

He finished with a smile so content that your throat tightened, but you refused to be speechless, shifting in his lap to press a palm to his chest—his steady heartbeat calming yours.

“I feel like you’ve always seen me like that.” You spoke earnestly.

“Even when I wasn’t free back then. Even when I should’ve chosen you sooner. You’ve just been the braver one out of both of us.”

His breath caught, the cocky grin faltering at your words. His eyes searched yours as you smiled, utterly undone—and without thinking, he cupped your face and crashed your lips against his in a giddy manner, kissing you hard.

Your laughs spilled into each other’s lips, your whispered I love you’s tumbling over each other like promises you waited too long to make.

For once, neither of you had duty or crowns, no guards at your sides. Just a knight that had always been yours, and a princess that was finally his everything.

Once upon a time, in land far away in a land not that unlike our own, there sat the prosperous kingdom of Roosthia. Presiding over this wonderful land was the kind and beloved King Burnie and his Queen, Ashley. Their lands were sprawling and fertile and their people happy. But all was not well in the land of Roosthia, for on the farthest eastern horizon, guarded and hidden by the jagged Hower Mountains, there dwelled a man.

But this was no ordinary man, oh no. For this man was Crimen, a wizard of darkest intent, of most horrific ambitions and accompanied by a creature most terrifying, whose name sent even the most hardened knight scurrying for cover.

Daragor, King of the Mountain.

Together, for the last five years, Crimen and Daragor had swept through the lands and other kingdoms surrounding Roosthia, razing fields of crops to ash, rending the flesh of farm animals and smashing homes and buildings to rubble. They killed knights and civilians with impunity, set fires and plagues on stores so that those who survived their attacks would starve and left only destruction and tragedy in their wake.

King Burnie was worried, of course, as it seemed that Crimen and Daragor were making their way inexorably closer and closer to the kingdom and Burnie was at a loss. How was he to stop a wizard and a dragon guarded by magic most foul? Night after night he fretted over it. He considered making underground stores to protect their food supplies, thought about having his own wizards place wards around the kingdom but most were unfeasible. He'd just begun to think about going outside the kingdom to request help when one of his seers, a young man named Miles, had come to him in the middle of the night, in such a fit he'd almost called for Healer Risinger.

He'd made it a rule, long ago when he first started as King, that if his seers ever needed to talk to him they were to be allowed to see him at any hour no matter what he was doing. That didn't stop his, totally manly, shriek of surprise when his door banged open and Miles was stood there, dressed only in his linen pants, hair askew, obviously roused from sleep. "Miles?!" He breathed out and the man nodded furiously.

"Burnie, Burnie. I saw...I saw Daragor. And Crimen. They were here and the castle was burning but then there was a man and a sword and..." Miles shook and Burnie darted forward, grabbing the smaller man and easing him into one of the chairs. Ashley had gone and summoned a guard to fetch one of the healers and was now taking one of the clean clothes on her dresser, running it through the cold water near the door and pressing it to Miles' forehead. Now she stood by with a piece of parchment and a quill, ready to take down anything Miles might say so that they'd be able to go back over it later.

"Miles can you remember anything else?" He pressed gently. This was the first solid lead they'd had in the past five years on the issue, the burgeoning problem that was Crimen and Daragor. If Miles had had a vision, then they needed to get to the bottom of it as soon as they were absolutely able.

"Eyes of earthen brown...and arms like quarried stone...the favored son sleeps softly now with his soul as true as bone. With jagged wing and frozen spell the scourge besets us now and take heed, my king, as they wish to ruin the crown. Take heart, O' warriors and those true of blade, the favored son runs swiftly now through mountain, field and glade. He'll gather allies 'round him, six men of purest heart, and the favored son roars loudly now, and he'll surely do his part."

Ice flooded the king's veins and the others shifted in shock behind him. They'd been in the company of a seer as he made a prophecy. That was a rare thing and one of the greatest honors that could be bestowed upon a person, as it spoke of a great trust for that person to not misuse the information. Miles had fallen unconscious and slumped back in the chair and Burnie chewed his lip. "Knight Taylor, please accompany Healer Risinger with Seer Luna to the medical wing and remain there with him until further notice." The young knight snapped a salute before gently, deceptively so considering the heavy plate armor he wore, picked up the young seer and followed the healer from the room.

"Get me Advisors Sorola, Heyman and Hullum. This won't wait."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

King Burnie stood over the planning table, the map of Roosthia and its surrounding countries and lands spread out before him. Around the table, in various levels of awareness were his most trusted advisors. On the table itself was a silver tray of coffee, imported from one of their outposts in the far west, with cream and sugar that a servant had brought in and the copy of Miles' prophecy that Ashley had written down was pinned to the edge of the map with a dagger. There was a heady sense of excitement in the air but also a fear that they couldn't quite shake.

Miles' prophecy was the first break through they'd had but there was every chance that they may not be able to find the person described in it, therefor rendering Miles' predictions useless and possibly heralding the end of their kingdom. "Brown eyes and strong arms doesn't give us a while lot to go on, does it?" Gus Sorola asked, taking the cup Matt Hullum, the most senior of the advisors, offered him. Not that any of them could argue with him. Any of the farmers or craftsmen or even some of the merchants could be described as such.

"You say Miles thinks he remembers what the man looked like, from the dream?" Joel asked, uncurling from around his cup of coffee to look at the others. " Burnie nodded his head, taking his own cup in hand.

"He woke up a for a bit up in the medical wing. He only had a few flashes, during the dream, but he remembers a face." Joel nodded and set his cup down.

"So have him walk around the town and the village until someone looks familiar. Have Knight Taylor accompany him, out of armor of course, or nothing will get done and when he recognizes whoever it may be, station a guard on them under some guise until a proper plan of action can be founded and started." There was a moment of silence around the room before Burnie chuckled.

"Joel if this is the kind of thinking you can get done this early in the morning, I'll start waking you up before the sun rises."

His only response was a dark glare and a pair of deep chuckles.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Burnie sat in his office, reading over the reports that his scouts had brought him from their foray to the southern lands. It had been about three weeks since the night of Miles' prophecy and today they were starting on the last section of the outlying village. Miles had yet to discover the person matching the man from his dream and the advisors and those that had been present for the night of the prophecy's telling were on edge, even as they avoided it with those who hadn't been there. It made no sense to get everyone riled up over something that may yet not actually work.

There was a knock on his door and Burnie looked up, rubbing his face. "Come in!" He shouted. The guards must have deemed them safe enough, if they weren't being announced. The heavy oak door opened and in walked Matt, the advisor looking like he was just restraining himself from bursting into dance, a smile plastered on his face. Burnie raised a brow and sat back in his chair, waiting to hear whatever news had the other man so excited.

"A messenger just a arrived from Sir Taylor and Seer Luna." Burnie flashed his own grin. That could only mean good news, because if they continued to be unsuccessful they wouldn't have bothered with a messenger. Matt nodded and handed over the scroll Burnie was only just now seeing and he removed the ribbon, unrolling the parchment and reading it under his breath.

"The blacksmith's apprentice? Is he certain?" He wondered aloud. He'd met Master Wagner and Apprentice Kovic before, when they'd done work for the castle to aid the royal blacksmith. Both were well liked and well respected in the village and in the town, and everyone spoke exceptionally highly of the young apprentice. But Adam could best be described as a gentle hand, not one most would see shoulders deep in battle with a swinging sword and a battle cry. Could Miles have made a mistake or was there something hidden deep inside the younger man that they had yet to see?

Burnie settled back into his chair as he carefully planned what would need to happen next. He'd need to contact Master Wagner, arrange a knight to watch over the apprentice and then from there he wasn't really sure. Should they send him outside of the kingdom for safety? Should they bring him to the castle and let him reside within its protective walls until there was a better plan of action? Would they just have to wait?

He decided to take it one step at a time and, for the time being, summon Master Wagner and the knight that was going to guard Adam. And he had just the man in mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You can't be serious! You want me to babysit the blacksmith's apprentice all because you think he's some be all end all savior. Instead I could be out with the others patrolling the mountain pass or even going with Jeremy to the Bragg's in the west ahead of them sending their bolstering forces and their banquet for midsummer!"

The king rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing softly to himself. He should have foreseen the man wouldn't be happy with the new assignment he had been given, but there was little to be done about it. He always prefer his Knights speak their minds with him, but there were times he wished that he hadn't allowed it. Just sometimes.

"No, Sir Willems, I'm not kidding. He'll be more comfortable with you than any of the others. Your charge is to watch over the blacksmith's apprentice, Adam Kovic, until such a time I either withdraw your guardianship or some such other plan is enacted. I've already spoken with Master Wagner and he has agreed to allow you to reside in their home until further notice. While Master Wagner is aware of your true purpose there, Sir Willems, Apprentice Kovic is not. As far as he is concerned, you are merely there to guard the smithy from a band of roving criminals until further notice. We're going to keep it that way." King Burnie rose from his throne and descended the steps until he was standing in front of the forlorn looking knight.

He placed his hands on the man's pauldrons and smiled warmly. "Don't be sad James! This is a great honor you've been given. If Apprentice Kovic is who we think he is, then it will be you who helped usher him into his full potential and power. And I think you'll really like him. It will be fun!" James grumbled but nodded his head in understanding, blue eyes sharp with a mixture of thoughts and emotions. Burnie could tell he still wasn't happy with the assignment but he really was the best choice out of the others. He was only a year older than the Apprentice and, when he wasn't glum over undesirable assignments, it was like being the in the presence of a particularly happy puppy dog. Chuckling gently he twirled back around and climbed the steps to his throne, settling himself comfortably.

"Go and gather what you will need, Sir Willems. A squire will have your mount ready and waiting for you." James opened his mouth to say something before Burnie cut him off. "Of course, your hound will be waiting as well." James seemed to take a small measure of happiness that Benson, his hound, would be allowed away from the castle with him.