You're a royal attendant slowly realising that you've lost track of which of the young princess' numerous anti-assassination body doubles is the real one. The royal portraits are so idealised that they look nothing like her, so you can't figure it out that way, and the Queen is a shitty absentee mom who doesn't remember what her own daughter looks like and routinely gets them mixed up, so she'd be no help even if you dared to ask. None of them will break character. You're beginning to suspect they're doing this on purpose.
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I'm so in love with Tessa Sheehan's new SWAN LAKE picture book and I had to do some fanart of her designs for the characters. I bought my own copy, which she kindly sent over, and being such a big fan of her work, I'm so delighted to finally have something of hers in my book collection. Please check out her art and give her some love - you can find her work on @acuriousquirrel via Instagram and Twitter. And she is also on Tumblr as @a-curious-squirrel!
above: illustrations by Tessa Sheehan (@acuriousquirrel) for her SWAN LAKE picture book!
Check out more of my work on other platforms or buy prints!
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Leon comes home late, covered in blood that isn’t his, and thinks you won’t notice.
You hear the front door click shut, the sound muffled and cautious like someone trying to hide the action.
Leon slinks through the entry room with no light on like a black cat through a back alleyway. He doesn't turn on the lights.
There's the faint drag of boots across the floor. A pause in the entryway like he’s deciding whether to commit to being seen.
When he finally steps into the kitchen light, it’s obvious. Leon Kennedy is covered in blood.
He's not injured, not limping, not even breathing hard. Just stained, like Carrie at the prom.
Dark splatters along his jacket, his sleeves, dried streaks at his collar like he tried to wipe it away and gave up halfway through.
He gives you that perfectly crafted ‘nothing's wrong, sweetheart’ smile and acts like everything's fine, like he didn’t just walk through your front door looking like a biohazard.
“Long night,” he says casually, already reaching for the sink.
You don’t move.
He rinses his hands like that’s going to fix anything, water turning faintly pink before disappearing down the drain. He avoids your eyes the whole time.
That’s the part that gives him away.
“You’re going to act like I don’t see that?” you ask quietly.
His shoulders tighten just slightly and then he forces his body into an exaggerated calm, sinking into himself.
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
You let out a slow breath through your nose. “You came home looking like that and thought I wouldn’t?”
For the first time, he looks at you. Really looks, like he’s checking whether you’re angry or just scared.
“…It’s not mine,” he says, softer now.
You step closer anyway, close enough to see the smear at his jaw he missed. Close enough to notice the exhaustion underneath the calm mask.
“I figured that much out,” you say. “What I’m not figuring out is why you thought that would make it better.”
His jaw tightens, then loosens. He exhales like he’s been holding it since he opened the door.
“Because if I tell you what it was,” he says, voice lower, “you’ll never sleep again.”
That lands heavier than the blood ever did.
You reach past him, turn off the faucet, and finally make him still.
“I already wasn’t sleeping,” you say. “Come sit down and tell me all about it.”
when we talk about knights like I completely agree with the whole "yes yes the protection, devotion, unwavering loyalty the immense bond and sexiness of I am your weapon use me as you see fit" is hot and good and all
but also consider in addition to that the unbelievable connection & love that is,
your knight always being there. He's always there around you, somewhere in your space. He has learned every little detail about you, weather that be intentionally or just from habit from being around you from sun up to sun down. He knows more about you than you do yourself sometimes. Its a love language. Like! Like!
Your knight is one of the first faces you see when you wake. Excluding your maids or ladies. He is the first man you see in the morning. He knows what you look like in your wrinkled chemise, hair a mess, fresh eye bags and cranky mood because you do not want to leave your comfy bed to entertain the snooty neighboring diplomats. He is one of the very rare people who see you without your heavy gowns and bare face. He sees you like this at the crack of dawn, and he still loves you, as he looks at you with adoration in his eyes and asks what your schedule looks like for the day.
and still, he is absolutely the last person you see before you sleep.(He makes sure of it) Even after your ladies have dressed you down and made you comfortable. He still finds you, checks up on you. Asks if your alright. As he cheekily kisses your hand and tells you to sleep soundly as "I'm right next door so get some rest my grace"
Your knight learns what time you wake up and how long it takes for you to fall asleep.
What wines and teas you prefer, as he watches you at a grand dinner ask the servants for your favorite.
He quickly learns to distinguish your handwriting(because what if someone tries to forage a letter to him saying its from his queen)
He learns how to touch you and much you like to be touched. He learns that it really makes you blush when you link arms with him so the teasing bastard keeps offering his arm to you just to see you flustered. He learns where to grab you and how much pressure to apply when he must pull you out of harms way. He must learn this. You're the crown. The one thing he's sworn his life to. If you flinch away from him, or don't trust him? If you don't feel safe around him? Then he is failing his job.
He learns what secretive, secluded spot you go to in the castle, to hide away from everyone when you want to be left alone. He knows where to find you when no one else can. But he never bothers you. When he sees the lonely distant look in your eyes, as you gaze out the window to your busying court below. He stands back, keeping himself unknown, watching you at a safe distance. He knows you need this time alone.
He learns how absolutely beautiful you look when genuinely happy and laughing. He watches you play another round of cards with your most trusted ladies, outside on a warm summer's day, surrounded by the wealth that the palace can afford, colorful blooming flowers and luxurious furniture. He tries to hold back a smile but fails, seeing you relaxed around your friends, no pressure of keeping up a facade for the court. Just hearing you freely laugh. He's thankful he's here to protect that.
He's also so so thankful that he's learned to pick up when your many suitors make you uncomfortable. The way your hand hesitates as another prince offers to dance with you. How you lean and press your body away from a distinguished war general bragging to you. How your polite and formal "No thank you" to the elderly king proposing you meet him at his chambers tonight, how your polite rejection hides the disgust and distain for this dance you must do. Your knight learns you must greet and entertain the proposals of these men. Or else you risk displeasing your family or coming off as inhospitably to a foreign nation.
But this means your poor knight also knows when you're completely at ease. So this means one day, when his majesty the queen, is having lunch with another prince, and your knight is standing a few feet away enough to give you privacy but still close enough to peer into your conversation. When he sees that your shoulders relax, and you giggle at one of the prince's little quips, and this time you keep all your focus on the other royal, instead of occasionally glancing over to your knight. Its then your precious knight feels anxiety building up in his chest. This time, he learns he just might lose you.
holy shit I got so side tracked with this one, it meant to just be a short blurb but I ended up fantasizing about my own princessXknight characters from Audrey The Bride of Prosperity.
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