#pasukiyo

 The Princess sighs as she signs off her letter, narrowing her eyes up at Peter where he stands, an incredulous look upon his face as she rolls the parchment, tying it with a red silk ribbon. “You don’t have to give me that look, Peter,” she says, fixing up the bow she tied until she is certain it is perfect. “Besides, this letter is between me and Princess Lily, you needn’t be such a snoop.”

 Peter’s lip curls in a snarl, watching the princess as she rises from the desk, dusting off the skirt of her gown. “You realize, highness, that it is my job to keep you in line?” He sneers, following close behind on her heels as she walks up the steps of the Owlery, searching for her beloved owl, Athena. “Your mother will be very displeased if she were to know the contents of that letter.”

 Her eyes roll in their sockets as she finds her owl, reaching out for Athena’s mottled brown and white head which she caresses with her knuckle, earning a satisfied hoot.

 “Which is why I trust that mother won’t hear of this,” she says, her lips curving in a cheeky grin as she ties the parchment to Athena’s claw. “Deliver this to Lily, would you, Thena?” She coos at the owl, the creature giving her knuckle a tender nip before she outstretches her wings, pushing her body off of her perch, soaring out the window and into the night. The Princess sighs as she watches the owl take flight, an envious flame kindling in her chest. 

 “You’re lucky I am feeling extra generous today,” Peter replies and she rolls her eyes, turning back around to face him. “‘Extra generous?’” She retorts, taking the skirt of her gown in her hands, pushing past him to make her way down the steps of the Owlery. “Since when were you capable of being generous?” 

 She grins over her shoulder at Peter, whom she catches in the act of rolling his eyes as he begrudgingly falls in step behind her. “You jest, your highness. Perhaps I’d even be inclined to laugh if it weren’t damn near midnight. You should be in bed, may I remind you.” 

 The Princess sighs again as she pushes the door of the Owlery open and when night blows into her skin, it erupts in gooseflesh. Still, she’s enough humor within her for a remark.  “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Peter, I am going,” she titters as they weave their way through the garden and safely back inside the castle, stepping into one of its many corridors. 

 “My knickers are not in a tw–”

 “Goodnight Peter! I simply cannot wait until the morning where you will chastise me again for merely breathing!” She smiles and waves at her father’s royal advisor behind her as she works her way up the staircase. 

 She can hear Peter scoffing and mumbling behind her but she pays him no mind, her lips still curled in a soft smile as she makes her way down the corridor leading to her quarters. She slows her steps and yawns, rolling her head around her neck as she approaches the guard standing watch outside her bedroom, sparing him too a grin. With an indifferent expression, he pushes open the door, stepping aside to allow her to enter her bedroom. 

 Her bedroom is warm with a soft marmalade glow coming from the candle she’d left earlier and she hums at the sight of her handmaiden, Marlene, in the corner of the room, silent as she reads whatever on the parchment in her lap. At the sound, Marlene gasps and blinks up to where the princess stands, pushing the piece parchment off to the side as she scrambles to her feet. 

 “Your highness!” Marlene squeaks, pinching the sides of her skirt in a curtsy. “Let me prepare your nightgown for you…” 

 The Princess watches as Marlene rushes to the closet, sifting through the many nightgowns before finally settling on one the color of seafoam. The Princess’ lips twitch in amusements Marlene practically sprints back towards her, outstretching the nightgown in her arms as if this was her coronation. 

 “Marlene, what have I told you?” The Princess chuckles, graciously taking the nightgown from her handmaiden’s trembling hands. “You can relax when you are with me. You make me seem like one of those stuck-up, snobby princesses that care very little for others’ wellbeing. It is rather insulting, actually.”

 Marlene’s cheeks burn a rosy color and she bows her head, ber trembling hands against her sides. “M-my apologies, your highness,” she hardly manages to stutter out, earning yet another roll of the eyes from the Princess. 

 “Marlene,” the Princess calls her name again, reaching out for the handmaiden’s chin, cupping it in her palm and tilting it up until their eyes meet. “Relax.”

 Marlene’s chest heaves as she takes a deep breath, her muscles visibly relaxing when she realizes the Princess’ soft, gentle tone. She exhales and the Princess’ lips grow in yet another warm smile before she turns, circling around the dressing screen to make quick work of her dress. 

 “Do you need help with your corset?” Marlene’s voice calls from over the screen just as she manages to undo the laces and it feels freeing, finally being able to breathe without limit. “I’ve got it,” she sighs in reply, tossing the corset over the top of the screen before shimmying here way out of her chemise. 

 “Your highness,” Marlene’s voice calls again and the Princess hums in reply, finally stripping out of her attire, rolling up her nightgown until she could finally pull her head through the opening. “The King and Queen requested you join them for brunch tomorrow. They speak of a Lord Sirius who will be joining you.”

 Her lips twitch at the mention of Lord Sirius and she steps out from behind the dressing screen, smoothing down her nightgown with the palms of her hands. “Thank you, Marlene,” she dips her chin. “Might I request that I wear that midnight blue dress, you know, the one I wore when Lord Gilderoy came to visit?” 

 Marlene’s eyes widen and her eyebrows furrow in question, the corners of her lips twitching with a smile, although she does her best to suppress it. “Trying to impress Lord Sirius?’ The handmaiden couldn’t help but to ask and the Princess chuckles, shaking her head as she walks over to the bed, setting down onto the mattress. 

 “Of course not!” she replies. “Lord Sirius is a dear friend. I just happen to like that dress. It is very comfortable– my compliments to the seamstress,” she adds with a wink.

 Marlene flushes and bows her head, “thank you, your highness,” she replies sheepishly, her murmur just barely audible. 

 The Princess grins and swings her legs over the side of the mattress, burying herself beneath the covers, blinking up towards the dusty pink ceiling of her bedroom once she’s finally settled. 

 “Is there anything else I can do for you before you sleep?” Marlene inquires and the Princess shakes her head. “No thank you, Marlene,” she yawns, folding her arms behind her head. “Have a good night.”

 “Very well. Sweet dreams, your highness,” Marlene dips her chin in a bow and the Princess watches the ceiling as Marlene blows out the candles at her bedside, washing the orange away from the ceiling, moonlight spilling inside instead

 She listens as Marlene’s footsteps gradually fade from the bedroom and out of her quarters altogether, the room feeling bigger, lonelier. Everything is quiet and still but alas, the silence has her mind reeling again like a dark, swirling tempest of the most terrible thoughts. What was she to do about her betrothal?

 Call her a sap, call her a hopeless romantic— but she wants love. She doesn’t want a prince, even if he comes from magic— she does not wish to become his shadow— she wants what the women have in all the storybooks: she wants to fall in love of her own accord, to understand and be understood by someone like no other. She is still  young and still has her whole life ahead of her— why must wedlock be her destiny? What if there’s something else, something far greater than what she will have out there for her? What if she never gets the chance to know her true destiny when she’s forced to live a completely new one?

 These are dark times, this she knows. She’s watched her father pace back and forth when consulting with his court, watched the bags beneath his eyes grow heavier with each day that passes, watching him grow weary as the promise of war closes in on the horizon. She knows she will do what she must to instill peace in her kingdom— but why must marriage be the only means to an end? 

 The thought puts a sour look on her face and she flips onto her side, wedging an arm beneath her pillow to support her head. She gazes out the window into the night’s black sky, watching the stars as they blink back. This could not happen, it just couldn’t— surely there has to be another way.

 Remus howls in pain as he stumbles through the back door of Lord Sirius Black’s manor, his muscles aching and the contents of his stomach bubbling in the pit, threatening to spill over his chapped lips. He can hear footsteps somewhere on the other side of the mansion and he prays to whomever it is in the sky watching them that it is his dear friend. 

 “Remus?” 

 Remus growls as he crashes into the bookcase against the way, sweat beading down the sides of his face as he tries to regain his balance. His chest heaves from the sheer force of his strangled breath and threads of saliva string from his lips. He groans as he blinks up towards the figure approaching him, hardly able to make out the face in the darkness but he knows it to be his friend. He bends at the waist, half in relief and half in pain.

 “Sirius,” Remus manages out, yelping as another searing jab of pain burns in his abdomen, his forehead practically slamming on the base of the bookcase he uses as his anchor. 

 “Merlin, let’s get you upstairs,” Sirius mutters, grabbing a hold of one of Remus’ arms and tossing it around his shoulders as he uses his other arm to hoist his friend from the floor. Remus hisses through his teeth as pain slices through his body and squeezes his eyelids shut, his head tossing back as he tries to move in tandem with Sirius’ footsteps.

 Sirius grunts as they approach the staircase, practically dragging his friend up the steps, much to Remus’ displeasure. His belly lurches at a particularly rough landing on one of the steps and he purses his lips together, hoping the acid bubbling in his throat could be willed to stay down. Sirius grabs a hold of Remus again and hoists him forward, finally arriving on the second floor of the manor. 

 Though quite winded, Sirius manages to drag Remus the rest of the way into one of the empty spare bedrooms, practically tossing his friend on the mattress as he rushes for the waste bin he keeps in the corner of the room for solely this reason. He passes the bin over to Remus who wastes absolutely no time in spilling the contents of his stomach, a sour, rotten odor Sirius has grown far too accustomed to to care about imbuing the bedroom. 

 Sirius finds a washcloth and pours some cold water into a vase, sighing as he plops down in the chair beside the bed, dipping the cloth before handing it over to Remus once he’s done vomiting. Remus falls back against the pillows, chapped lips agape as he tries to catch his breath, pressing the cold rag onto his entire face. He squeezes his eyelids together hard enough to see stars, feeling his unsteady heart drum against his chest. 

 “Sorry,” he manages finally once he’s calm enough, his voice low and husky. Sirius rolls his eyes and scoffs from his bedside, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. 

 “I think we’re well beyond apologies, my friend,” he snickers. “Besides, you know I do not mind.”

 Remus huffs and coughs into the rag, a furrow in his brow as he folds it, draping it across his forehead, pressing it down hard enough to let some of the water trickle down the sides of his face. He hums when the cold water reaches his chapped lips, tongue swiping between them just as Sirius presses the rim of a bottle to his lips. Remus’ lids shoot open and he glances over at Sirius before back down at the glass of water, practically ripping it from his friend’s grip once he realizes what it is. Sirius watches as Remus practically chugs the entire thing down, the corners of his lips twitching amusedly when his friend hiccups and gasps, wiping away the little bit that had dribbled onto his chin before passing the glass back over. 

 “Sorry for waking you,” Remus says in more of a gasp, letting his head fall to the side against the pillows to get a better look at Sirius in his night clothes. Sirius rolls his eyes at the apology but does not dismiss it, simply shaking his head, setting the glass of water down against the nightstand before leaning back in his seat. 

 “You didn't,” he replies. “I've been awake figuring out what to wear to visit the castle tomorrow.”

 Remus rolls his eyes at this— somehow, it always slipped his mind that his best friend is rich, and a lord for that matter. “Right,” Remus mutters. “While I am doing my very best to not die, you’re rubbing elbows with royalty. Almost forgot.”

 Sirius, too, rolls his eyes and snickers at this, “it’d do you well to remember that I’m the one making sure you’re not dying at this very moment. You wouldn’t want to jeopardize the position you’re in right now, would you?”

 Remus scoffs, rolling his head around his neck, gazing up at the ceiling. “Right,” he murmurs begrudgingly. “I suppose you want my thanks?”

 A humorous smirk lifts the side of Sirius’ face. “It’d certainly amuse me.”

 Remus rolls his eyes again. “Then I won’t,” he replies, wincing as he tries to make himself a little more comfortable despite the jabbing pain in his abdomen. It’s at least a little more tolerable than before. “Anyways, I’ll be out of your hair come morning. You needn’t worry about me.”

 “Now, wait a minute here, you’re not going to get rid of me that easily,” Sirius chuckles, leaning forward in his chair, resting his elbows against his knees. Remus peels a single eyelid open, glancing over at his friend. “The full moon’s not for another few weeks now, is it? And you’ve already got it this bad.”

 “Two weeks, to be exact,” Remus groans. “My symptoms seem to have gotten worse as of late, I guess. Not even one of your million-Galleon beds can take away the pain.” 

 Sirius purses his lips, “not a million Galleons, for the record. Second, I thought you didn’t get this bad until the day before a transformation. Are you alright?”

 Remus opens both his eyelids again, cocking an eyebrow towards his friend. “Oh yes, I am doing just fine and dandy here, thanks so much for asking.”

 Sirius’ chest puffs as he huffs, “I can throw you back out onto the street if you fancy.” 

 Remus titters, easing himself further down into the mattress. “I’m better now,” he assures. “Just… tired.” 

 Sirius eyes his friend, Remus’ skin still slick with a layer of sweat but at the very least, he didn’t seem likely to hurl his dinner out at any given moment anymore. Sirius soothes his palms over his thighs before pushing himself off of his seat, fingernails scratching at his scalp. 

 “Get some sleep,” Sirius says as he makes his way to the door. “Leave whenever you need to tomorrow. I’ll probably already be gone.”

 Remus’ lips tug into a smirk, “off to kiss the ground the royal family walks on?”

 Sirius’ gaze darkens and his eyes roll in their sockets, “piss off.”

 Remus chuckles and with that, Sirius closes the door behind him, leaving Remus all alone in one of the manor’s many bedrooms, blinking up into the dark ceiling above. His muscles are sore and aching, feeling the reminder of the upcoming full moon lingering in the corner of his mind like an annoying little insect. How much more of this pain does he have to bear? How much must he suffer before he finally goes numb? Before he feels nothing at all?

 Remus sighs, letting his eyelids flutter back closed, hoping sleep will come to him soon. He is grateful for Sirius, for having at least a comfortable bed to sleep in tonight, unlike his own bed at home that was no better than sleeping on pins and needles. Remus let himself sink further into the mattress, soon feeling the arms of slumber embrace him, drawing him into its chest…

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