#legacycaptain

He had stood vigil beside the door to her solar for hours, rarely interrupting as she consulted with advisers and penned responses to stacks of correspondence and proposed legislation. Although quips were not uncommon between messengers, quiet attempts to draw a genuine laugh from her, inspire a smile that went beyond courtesy. Of course she rarely had a chance to reply before her attention was drawn back to her duties.So now that all the envoys have departed and the doors have been decidedly shut against further intrusion, the words break the silence and James turns slowly to look at his Queen.The change that overcomes the knight is immediate. A fleeting smile appears, small and swift so that it might have gone unnoticed, but traces of it linger in the softness that he should not dare to expose to her. “It pleases me to hear that, Your Majesty.” He should stop there. And yet quiet steps bring him closer, until he stands before her desk. “Believe me when I say I would do anything to ease the burdens you bear.” It is too intimate and yet not enough. And he waits, for her to decide which is true.

“Nanny agrees with you, you know? She thinks the baby is a girl.” It’s a distracted thought as he watches Amelia, eyes tracing the clearly defined bump at her midsection. 

“Don’t hold back, your majesty. I want to see what you can do, what you know.” He stands before her, holding a blunted sword to match the Queen’s. This little training session had been his idea, prompted by a passing story she told weeks ago of learning sword-play as a girl. In his opinion as the Commander of her guard, he saw no reason such studies could not resume. It would afford her more protection, the ability to defend herself if need be, and such were the reasons he gave when telling her of the plan (and would repeat should any insolent fools dare to question their Queen). He conveniently left out that it also means time alone with her, the chance to see her eyes as she fights, the personal reassurance that knowing she could handle a weapon would give him. No, she does not need to know such things.

It’d been a series of stupid, fanciful ideas. Driving to watch the sunrise, cuddling on the beach, confessions that were too real, and then ultimately splashing about in waters far too cold for such frolicking to be considered anything close to wise. And now here they are, shivering in the backseat of his rented car after changing behind the sparse trees nearby, Amy wearing her own clothes she’d changed out of before (thankfully he’d tossed them into the back when they left the hotel) and he in nothing but a pair of boxers and a blanket. That’s all he had left in his pack to cover up with and there had been a nagging worry that hopping in beside her shirtless was a bad idea.  There’s a slight awkwardness now as the heat continues on full blast and the radio plays softly. But even with the quietness waiting to be broken and the memory of their idiocy fresh in his head, James has no regrets. Because he can still remember the feel of her head on his shoulder, the words ‘you’re good too’, the sound of her laugh as she was drenched in salt water, the painful recollection of her trusting him enough to open up. No, no regrets   Maybe that’s what makes him brave. “I can share.” And there’s no excuse to follow it about it being warmer or anything.. Because that’s exactly what it would be, just an excuse. Instead he’ll untuck one arm, allowing a gap between the blanket and his chest and wait, a shyly hopeful look in his eyes which hold hers only a moment before dropping to the floorboard. And dammit, despite the chill pervading the rest of his body, his cheeks are warm with color. 

A small, smug smile and the dice dissolve, the scarves too disappear with an eleant flourish, earning a few quiet “ahhs”. Still, he can feel the doubters lingering, tense and slightly angry points of energy scattered throughout the crowd. Unlike the others, they are not easily impressed by simple sleight of hand and parlor tricks. Which only makes it all more fun and satisfying in the end. “I can feel that some here are still suspicious of me. After all, how hard is it to make a few things pop out of thin air, to predict a number that is one in six? Or twelve? My next feat will be something far more spectacular, more impossible. But I will need a little--help.” A wink as applause ripples through the crowd and excitement builds while hands start waving madly, hoping to be chosen. But he passes them over, looking instead for someone impatient, someone skeptical, someone who wouldn’t want to play along....ah. Perfect. “Let’s see, ten rows back, three seats from the aisle. Yes, you. Would you join me on stage? Ladies and gentleman, let’s give this lovely young woman some encouragement.” He claps along with them, his charming smile daring her to refuse.

@legacycaptain

Only a few days and already it’s colder. She has become his sun, driving away the dark thoughts running around in his head with her bright smile, melting the ice that guards his tender heart with her gentle embrace. But without her the chill comes creeping back in, spreading through his veins. Lies and violence and unwilling obedience encasing him in layers so that now he feels like a man stumbling in a storm, hoping to reach safety before he freezes.  Though steps are heavy they remain silent as James slips up to her apartment and unlocks the door to his haven with a purple key. Unsurprisingly there are still lights, probably indicating that she’s perched on the couch trying to be productive. Doing paperwork or something. She should be asleep, curled up cozily in her bed. And he’s awful for being glad she isn’t. The last few strides are faster, ending abruptly as he sinks down onto the cushion beside her and glances at her from the corners of his eyes. No apology is forthcoming, no excuse. Instead fingers barely brush the back of her hand in a silent plea.