#republished edit

“Corrin!”

The apartment was empty.

“Jakob!”

Her bedroom door burst open and she barrelled at him so quickly, he wasn’t ready, staggering almost back out the door and dropping his helmet and baton as she threw her arms around his waist.

“What,” he spluttered, stunned into awkward inactivity as he tried to figure out what to do with his arms.

“You came!” 

She beamed, as though she honestly thought he wouldn’t. To his relief, she let go of his waist and grabbed his arm instead, pointing into the kitchen. 

“Now go kill it.”

“What?” He repeated.

“The spider! I said there was a spider – and I lost track of it, I don’t know where it is, please, just get rid of it, please.”

Jakob gaped at her. “I thought you were being attacked.”

“I was! By a spider!”

“You –“ He shut his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face, torn between laughing and groaning out loud. He settled for sighing instead. “You can’t call my pager for things like this.”

Corrin actually pouted, and he wanted to shake her, frustration, and strangely, affection assailing him all at once. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologised, looking down at her feet like a child that had been caught doing something wrong.

“It’s… it’s all right.” Something in him relented, a weight lifting from him as he settled into the realisation that she wasn’t in any imminent danger and he gently patted her shoulder with his free hand. “I suppose it’s what I do. Protect you. Even if it is… from a spider.”

She gave him a small smile and then jabbed a finger in the direction of the kitchen again. 

His arm was quickly released as he stepped into the tiled area. The first thing Jakob noticed was shattered glass on the counter below an open cupboard.

“Please do not tell me you threw a glass at it.”

“I threw a glass at it!” Her voice came from the living area and he turned to see her standing nervously behind her coffee table, a distance unnecessarily far from where he stood. “Don’t judge me!”

He couldn’t hold back a small snort of amusement.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No.”

He peered into the cupboard and there it was, wedged in a corner just behind the door, dark grey and hairy all over with alarmingly long legs.

“Your aim is miserable.”

“I panicked, okay?”

He picked up another glass from the shelf. “Clearly.”

Carefully, he hovered the opening of the glass over the spider, trying to gauge if it would be wide enough to fit over the thing. Perhaps a bit too small.

“Do you have a –“

It jumped.

Corrin screamed, and Jakob leapt a mile, a yelp of shock escaping him as he dropped the glass and frantically brushed at his shoulder where it landed. Again, she screamed as it tumbled to the floor and started to dart away and Jakob thought fuck it, and stomped down on it as hard as he could.

For a long, long moment, neither of them spoke.

It was Corrin who broke the silence by starting to giggle.

“You… you…” she couldn’t form the words, overwhelmed with laughter as she doubled over, her arms folded over her stomach.

Jakob could only sigh, huffing a small laugh himself at the ridiculousness of the entire scene.

“Broom,” he requested and Corrin staggered towards the laundry, howling uncontrollably.

She returned with a dustpan as well, and a less hysterical edge to her voice and tried to start sweeping, but Jakob took the items from her and pointed her out of the way. 

“The sound you made!” She perched on a stool at the counter and tried to imitate him, waving her arms in a goofy, exaggerated manner and starting to laugh all over again. “I would have never expected that from you.” 

He shook his head and continued to sweep. “I suppose I’ll leave you to deal with it yourself next time, then?”

Corrin propped her chin in her hands and watched him clean, seeming remarkably content now that the threat had been eliminated. “Thank you for coming,” she said, her voice softer. “I know this isn’t part of the job description. I just… I didn’t know who else to call.”

He located the bin in the corner and dumped the spider and the shards of broken glass. “I don’t mind.” And he realised that he truly didn’t. He glanced at his watch only to find that it wasn’t there, having been left behind in the rush to get here. The digital display on Corrin’s fridge read eleven minutes past seven. “Technically, I’m still on duty.”

“Well, thank you, Jakob, for doing your duty.”

He tucked the broom back into the handle of the dustpan, a thought occurring to him. While he was here, he felt like doing something else outside of his job description.

“Have you had dinner?”

Corrin’s eyes widened in what he was starting to recognise as her playful expression. “Are you asking me out? You know that’s against the rules.”

He forced himself to refrain from smiling, even though her teasing made him want to cover his face with his hands and just grin from ear to ear.

“No, Miss Nohr, I’m asking you if you have eaten, and if not, I’d like to know what you intend to do about it.”

“No and nothing.” She folded her arms. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” he deadpanned, walking out of the kitchen and to the laundry to return the dustpan and broom. He felt her watch him, staring as he picked up and collapsed his baton, scooped up his helmet and headed for the door. As he pulled it open, he turned back.

“I’m joking. Get your keys, I’m going to make you dinner.”

The smile that replaced her look of dismay lit up the entire room.

---

“What is the simplest thing you know how to make?”

Corrin watched in interest as Jakob added a bunch of basil to their trolley. 

“Cup noodles,” she replied honestly. “Tea.”

Jakob cast her a sidelong glance. “Do you really want to tell an Englishman that you know how to make tea?”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes. “Cup noodles.”

He picked up and inspected a large onion. “Well, by the time I’m done today, the simplest thing you’ll know how to make will be this.”

Corrin gave him a small, uncomfortable laugh. “You’re pretty confident for someone dealing with a person who has never cooked in her life.”

“How have you survived this long on your own without cooking?” He pulled a tray of beef mince from the cold shelf and was wheeling the trolley past the rest of the cold and frozen foods when the display reminded him of the expired eggs in her fridge.

“Do you actually eat eggs?”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “I have eggs?”

He chose to leave them alone for today.

Down another aisle, he pointed out a jar of tomato paste for her to retrieve and then, further along, some dried pasta. She wasn’t quite tall enough and he watched fondly for a moment as she stood on the tips of her toes and attempted to nudge it down, before reaching up to grab it for her.

“Ah, thanks.” She stepped quickly out of the way and almost knocked over a row of rotini. “Sorry, sorry!” She grasped at the falling bags, scrambling to straighten the display.

It seemed that there was never a dull moment around Corrin Nohr.

The groceries amounted to two bags of items that Corrin insisted she pay for despite the fact that Jakob had been the one to suggest they go shopping.

“You shouldn’t be doing this anyway,” she pointed out.

“You make it sound like a violation of terms.”

She waved a hand, mumbling something about a bad idea.

Back at the apartment, Jakob showed her how to cut an onion.

She took to the task with enthusiasm, but frightening recklessness.

“Stop, stop –“

He quickly reached around her to take her hands.

“You’re going to lose a finger if you do that.” He gently bunched her fingertips together and moved them to rest on top of the onion. “Keep them where you can see them. Like a claw.”

Suddenly, she pulled her hands away, scattering bits of onion as she ducked under his arm and darted behind him. 

“I don’t like this, it stings!”

Concerned, he turned to check on her. “Are you all right?”

Her face was bright pink and she sniffled as her eyes watered. “Yeah… I’m sorry. Maybe I should do something else.”

He got her to boil pasta.

Corrin helped him put together the rest of the sauce, obediently following his instructions and otherwise hovering just out of the way. As he finished, he beckoned her to come closer, dipping a clean spoon into the pot.

“Always taste.” He blew on the spoon and offered it to her. “Remember that this is being added to –“

Whatever he meant to say vanished from his mind, his chain of thought snapped cleanly apart as he watched her lips close around the spoon, her tongue dart out to catch the sauce at the corner of her mouth.

“It’s a little salty.”

“Yes,” he agreed, feeling breathless.

Bad. Bad, badbad, this was a mistake.

But it was salvageable, he thought, dropping the spoon in the sink. He could let her eat, clean up quickly and just leave before –

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

No. No.

“I at least know that Merlot can be paired with a red pasta sauce. Camilla taught me that.”

She smiled proudly, and Jakob would have rather dug the damn spider back out of the glass-ridden trash and swallowed it than said no.

Corrin wandered off to retrieve the bottle, leaving him with no choice but to serve a dinner for two.

Determined to eliminate the suggestion that this was in any way enjoyable, Jakob sat quietly across from her at the dining table, carefully directing his gaze at the view, but she was like a beacon even against the brilliant city skyline, irresistibly distracting. Corrin had a talent for conversation, and two glasses of wine in, Jakob was telling her things not even his colleagues, whom he had worked with for years, knew of.

“How long have you been in security for?”

“Two… three years.” Brief answers, no detail. Don’t get too involved.

“What did you do before that?”

“I was a Lieutenant for the Royal Marines.”

“The British military!” She took a long sip of her wine, sitting up straight with attentive interest. “Why did you leave?”

It was his turn to drink deeply from his glass. “Personal reasons.”

“Okay, I won’t ask. But it must have been really personal for you to leave the country entirely.”

He let a mouthful of pasta be his excuse for avoiding a reply.

“So are your family all in England?”

For the briefest of moments, he considered being a jerk. But she was refilling his glass with a gentle smile, and it couldn’t hurt, surely, to just tell her. He had to spend so much time with her anyway, it would be better to sate her curiosity than maintain this clinical indifference.

“I have no family. My parents abandoned me when I was very young.”

“Oh,” her face fell. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It doesn’t matter much to me.”

“Still,” she said more to herself than in reply, “it must have been lonely.”

He shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

He was drinking too fast. He felt warm when Corrin stared at him and the way the soft lights caught her hair made him a little disoriented, almost dizzy.

God, the flush of wine in her cheeks made her look so –

“I think I’ve had too much,” he muttered.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she stood, coming around the table to take him by the arm, and it didn’t make much sense, but he let her lead him to her sofa and sat down, feeling strangely comfortable as she sat next to him and turned on the television.

“Penguins,” she announced, indicating with the remote, the documentary on screen. 

They were such ridiculous animals, absolutely not made for movement on land, and he might have said so, because she laughed, and the sound went straight to his head, down into his chest where it beat like bird trying to escape.

“Hey,” she said softly, as the commercials came on, “I’m sorry if I brought up some bad memories.”

Jakob sighed. “Don’t apologise. You apologise too much.”

“Sorry,” she repeated, and giggled to herself. “But thanks for telling me. I can’t believe you were a Lieutenant. I guess that’s why you have such good posture.”

“You notice strange things.”

She nodded slowly. “I’m good at that.”

The low drone of the television was soothing, and Jakob felt his head slowly clearing the longer he sat there. It would be a while before he could comfortably take his bike, but it was getting late, and the time at which it should have been appropriate for him to leave had come and gone. With a yawn, he made to stand, and froze.

Corrin had fallen asleep, her legs tucked beneath her and her head tilted sideways against the back of the sofa, as if she had drifted off while watching him. Her cheeks were still pink, her lips parted slightly as her chest rose and fell with deep breaths and her eyelids fluttered as she felt Jakob move beside her. 

“No,” she murmured, reaching for him, her arm falling about his waist, and with a heady rush he knew was not the wine, Jakob realised with sudden, startling clarity that he was trapped.

Caught beneath her unknowing embrace, tangled in the thought of her kind eyes and gentle laugh. 

What was going on? She glanced at her clock again. It clearly said Thursday, and she definitely had classes on today. Was he actually suggesting that she skip them?

She slowly opened her door and spoke through the gap. “What should I be wearing?”

“Something nice.”

Her stomach instantly  erupted in butterflies and she had to poke her head out beyond the doorframe to check on him. 

“Goodness, Jakob!” Her tone teased, but she wanted it so badly to be real. “Is this a date?” 

“No.” He smiled, properly smiled, and god, he looked so handsome, she wanted to scream. “Of course not. That would be against the rules.”

With every ounce of self-control she possessed, Corrin gently pulled her bedroom door closed again. And then threw herself onto her bed, burying her face into her pillow to stifle the excited giggling that bubbled up from her throat.

She picked out a wine-coloured blouse, a shade of red similar to the chrysanthemums he had brought and matched it with her favourite black skirt and tall black boots.

After a moment’s hesitation, she sprayed herself with perfume and carefully applied some lipstick.

Let him know, let him stare.

Back in the apartment, she found Jakob by the window, his back turned to her as he pushed back one of the long grey curtains. He moved with ease and efficiency, sure in every motion he performed, tidily controlled even though she could see the strength in his broad shoulders, his arms and hands. 

She wanted nothing more than to have him hold her close and let him overpower her.

“Hey,” her voice sounded small, her mind still clinging to the remnants of her daydream. “Nice enough?”

He turned to cast her a brief once over. “It’ll do,” he replied, nonchalant. 

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Mean.”

As expected, he stepped past her and into her room, and she knew he was heading to the far left of her walk-in, where she kept all her coats. He returned with a thick, cropped black jacket with a high collar, holding it out to her so she could slide it on.

She heard him sigh as he gently tugged the zip upwards, and then, to her surprise, he seemed to reach out as if to touch her face. The thought passed a second later when she realised he was pushing her hair back over her shoulder to finish zipping up the coat.

She had to stop doing this to herself, or she would go insane.

“You’ll need this today, it gets a bit cold.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, but he had already turned away and she followed him towards the living area where he gestured at the sofa. He had obviously taken his bike today, because he paused to pick up his helmet from the leather seat, but beside it was another helmet and anticipation was already bursting in her chest before she even realised what she was saying.

“Is that for me?”

“It’s a present. Congratulations on getting through your midterms.”

Corrin barely stopped herself from clapping her hands together as she laughed in delight. “I get to go on your bike!”

“If you behave yourself and don’t get us killed.”

“I promise! I’ll be good!” She grabbed the helmet and he sighed, but she expected it - in that moment, he was the most wonderful person in the world, and it made her feel almost dizzy with happiness.

“Come on, then.”

He had parked it on the street outside, and it was the first time she had seen it up close, all matte black surfaces and larger than she expected it to be.

She loved it already because she got to stand close to him again as he helped her with her helmet and she felt anonymous, concealed as it slid over her head, muffling the sounds around her and it gave her an excuse to focus on the slight frown Jakob wore as he checked that it fit securely.

“Hold onto me, and relax,” he instructed and she was thankful for the visor, because the idea of holding him at all made her feel warm and restless.

He pulled on his own helmet and zipped up his jacket, mounting the bike easily before gesturing at her to join him. She slid a leg over the seat and found that even though it wasn’t necessary, she could press herself snugly against his back. Pulse racing, she put her arms around his waist, almost breathless when she could feel him move, the flex of his toned torso as he planted both feet to steady the machine and started the engine. The motorcycle growled to life, a deep noise that rumbled through her chest and made her hold tighter, and she almost jumped when he reached back and patted her knee, as if to assure her.

Trust me.

He kicked the bike into gear, and they accelerated so suddenly, Corrin gasped, the sound swallowed by the roar of the engine and then she was laughing, her heart soaring with the speed at which they tore through the streets. He was with her and she was holding him and she had never felt more blissfully free.

When Jakob parked, it was on a busy street somewhere she had never been before, with clean white concrete pavements and a long strip of shops. Reluctantly, she released him so he could get off the bike, pulling off his helmet and then helping her do the same. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she realised that he was staring at her hair.

“Hey, it’s not like yours isn’t messed up either.” And it was cute too, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. Instead, she pushed him playfully, trying to smooth down the stray strands on her own head with her other hand. 

She followed him into a café with a black cat painted in the window, and a bell hung over the door and immediately, she was greeted with the rich scent of buttery, baking pastries and freshly ground coffee.

The woman behind the counter seemed to know Jakob and gave him a small wave as she cheerfully chatted up another customer and frothed milk at the same time.

They passed through the entire store, and then at the very back, he led her up a narrow wooden staircase. They emerged in what looked like something completely separated from the café downstairs. Rows upon rows of books filled clean black shelves, laid out according to genre, author, area of interest. Here and there amongst the aisles there was a beanbag, a small table with a stool.

“There’s more on the floor above as well, but first, let’s get you something to eat.”

Corrin didn’t quite know what to say or where to begin.

She took a seat by a window, and waited, or rather, gleefully took an Instagram of the small cactus in a pastel coloured pot on her table. 

Moments after she posted the image, her phone started to ring.

It was Silas.

“Where are you?” He asked, worry in his voice.

“I’m out with Jakob. We decided to skip class today. Sorry.”

There was a short silence on the other end of the line, and somehow, even though she couldn’t see him, she could sense the irritation like a cold draught, a deliberate pause to alert her that she was in the wrong.

“You know we still have to finish that report that’s due tomorrow, right?”

Jakob appeared again, carrying a tray.

“We weren’t going to do it at uni anyway,” she replied, distracted as she watched him arrange before her a latte, a large breakfast of eggs benedict and a plate of pastries. The smell made her mouth water. “I’ll do it tonight.”

“Look, what if I come over?”

“Okay, sure,” she agreed with half a mind, the rest of her too busy watching Jakob take a sip from his own espresso, and then reach over to start cutting up the toast on her plate. 

“What time will you be back?”

“I-I don’t…” she felt herself flush hotly when he held out the fork, loaded with toast and egg to her lips. Obediently, she opened her mouth and ate, not realising that she hadn’t even responded until Silas prompted her to.

“Hello? Are you still there?”

“Um, yes. Sorry, sorry, I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

Jakob was reaching for her again, and this time she felt her heart leap when his thumb gently grazed the corner of her mouth and he brought it back to his own lips. Watching him made her feel faint.

“Well… let me know when you’re back. We need to get this done.”

“Yeah. See ya.”

Corrin put her phone face down and didn’t even care if she had hung up or not.

“What are you doing?” She asked weakly.

“Feeding you breakfast,” he replied, unconcerned and seemingly unaware of how flustered she felt. “I should think it would be obvious.”

She stared, unable to stop her face from getting warmer and warmer as he continued to carefully feed her another forkful of food.

“Should I stop?”

She shook her head. 

No. Never stop.

---

“Let’s play a game,” Corrin suggested, running her fingers over the spines of several books. “We’ll each pick a book. You have to read what I pick, and I have to read what you pick.”

“Intriguing,” he admitted. “Maybe I should find you the book that actually contains the Ferris wheel scene.”

She punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Oh my god, could you just let it go?” But she was laughing, and he wore a small smile that made her stop and stare so she could lock away the memory and keep it to herself. Suddenly impulsive, she turned to face him, stepping up close, and she was pleased when he did not move away. “Do you want to know why I chose to talk to you that day?”

“A burning desire to discuss incorrect details to irrelevant narratives,” he quipped dryly.

She laughed again. “Fine! Forget it, I’ll never tell you.”

The corner of his lips lifted upwards. “A tragic loss.”

In the end, he picked out for her the very book that he had been reading that day in the café where they first met. She picked out a huge coffee table book of astronomical prints, galaxies, stars, planets and clouds of stellar dust.

“Not much of a read,” he remarked, “though, I find the subject matter coincidentally fascinating.”

Supremely pleased, she grinned so hard at him, it made her cheeks ache.

---

“Is he your boyfriend?”

The woman took Corrin’s hand in her gnarled and wrinkled one, patting her gently as though she intended to share some of the worldly wisdom that sat behind her kind eyes. 

Corrin turned to look at Jakob, who stood several meters away, and seemed to be carefully considering the contents of a glass case.

“Actually, he’s my bodyguard.”

Clearly, the woman thought it was a joke, and chuckled. “That’s good. Make sure he guards your body and your heart. You make a lovely pair.”

Corrin liked her. “Thank you. I think I’ll tell him that.”

---

It was dark, the patrons were loud and the music was louder. Heavy bass throbbed in Corrin’s head, pulsing almost palpable in the air as she took a seat at the bar and let Jakob indicate what their order would be. 

The place only served one thing – burgers. Dripping, hot, fresh from the grill and served with a generous side of shoestring fries, they were incredibly, the most delicious thing Corrin had ever eaten. She wolfed her dinner down, watching in amusement as two other diners who had possibly had one too many beers got up on the table to dance. They stopped when the man from behind the bar came over, but instead of calling security, he climbed up onto the table with them, and to shouts and whistles of encouragement, started to dance too.

It was a Thursday night. Corrin could only imagine the chaos here on a weekend.

She turned to look at Jakob. The day was done, she knew, and after this he would return her to her apartment, back to a reality where he was her bodyguard and she was his client and they were bound together by nothing but a signature on the bottom of a contract signed by her brother. Back to being near but never close.

But surely, after everything they had done today, not all of it was an act. He couldn’t have just been nice for the sake of being nice, and even indulging her could only go so far before it became difficult to pretend.

Or so she hoped. 

She hoped, with all her heart as she stood from her seat and swayed to the music, holding out a hand to him.

Jakob stared at her for so long, she started to feel stupid, but then he stood as well and let her drag him into open space where she twirled and flailed her arms with absolutely no regard for rhythm or anyone watching, and finally, finally, he laughed, and she would have sold her own soul to have that evening never end.

---

He walked her to her apartment, not because it was romantic or the right thing to do – he did it because he was being paid to do it.

This is what Corrin reminded herself as she dragged her feet from the elevator, knowing that time only stopped for this fantasy so long as she did not reach her front door. The question burned in her throat but she was a coward and she wasn’t sure if she could handle hearing him tell her that it was all nothing but a beautifully planned lie.

“I hope today hasn’t taken too much of your time away from you,” Jakob said, swiping his card and entering the pin code to hold the door open for her.

“No,” she replied and would have told him the same thing even if it had taken away years of her own life. “Thank you so much for everything. For being so good to me.”

“Think nothing of it.”

There it was, his professional voice slipping back into place, a straight-backed stance at arm’s length. 

Corrin sighed in defeat. “You must be tired, Jakob. You can go. I’ll be all right from here.”

He nodded. “There’s just one more thing.”

She stiffened, her breath a lump of anticipation caught in her throat.

He unzipped his jacket pocket, and pulled from it a small flat blue box. He held it out to her and hesitantly, she took it, barely keeping her hands from shaking as she pulled open the lid. 

Inside was a silver necklace, a simple, elegant loop of fine chain that ended in a smooth silver pendant in the shape of a star.

“It’s not much,” he mumbled, “I’m sure you’ve received better –“

“Why?” She shut the box with a loud snap, and now she was no longer afraid, her heart thumping in her ears as she moved closer and she needed to know. “Why did you do this? Why did you tell me it was a date?”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t a date.”

“No,” she said. It was clear that he was avoiding her eye, afraid to lie, afraid of giving something away. She leaned close, almost against him, and he couldn’t step back because the door was behind him, and there was nowhere else to go. “Tell me, Jakob. Please.”

“Because… I wanted to.”

Corrin stopped, frowning in confusion. 

“Because I wanted to see you happy,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper. His hand reached towards her and the tips of his fingers grazed her cheek as he leaned forward. “Because I’m selfish.”

He was close, so close that she could feel the warmth of his exhale on her lips, and her eyes slid shut, wishing, wanting so badly that she didn’t even hear her phone chiming in her jacket pocket until she felt his hands on her shoulders gently pushing her back.

“You should get that.”

Dazed, she could only obey, pulling her phone out of her pocket and catching Silas’ name before the call rang out and the screen went dark.

“Good night, Miss Nohr. Call or page if your plans change.”

She blinked at him, and he found himself pleasantly surprised at how much he enjoyed watching her brows lift and her cheeks colour faintly. She was quite a pretty girl.

“Oh.” Her eyes were a curious shade of brown and they darted quickly to the side, betraying how nervous she was despite her friendly and initially confident approach. “Oh… god.” Her shoulders shook as she lifted a hand to her mouth and he realised that she was laughing. “Oh, god, how embarrassing.”

Amused now, Jakob lowered the book to watch her as she fanned herself with a hand. 

“Well, this was fun,” she remarked brightly, her tone exaggerated in an attempt to mask how clearly mortified she was at her own mistake. “I’m going to go get my coffee and never come back. Enjoy your book!”

He said nothing, but felt his lips twitch.

With another small laugh, she hopped off the stool and turned to walk back to the counter, where the barista was calling out orders. 

He watched her go, admiring the subtle sway of her hips and her long legs, and felt a brief pang of regret that he hadn’t just let her have her way and perhaps gotten her number. There was a sweet innocence about her that he hadn’t seen in anyone for a long time, and at the very least, it seemed that she liked to read books. A college student, perhaps. She couldn’t have been any older than twenty.

Jakob picked up his book again, but found it difficult to concentrate. Whether it was the question about the Ferris wheel or the way she had smiled in genuine interest in anticipation of his response, he couldn’t shake the thought of her from his mind. Defeated, he downed the rest of his coffee and binned the cup, tucking the novel into his jacket pocket as he straightened his tie, picked up the black plastic binder that contained the complete report from his last job and made to leave the café. 

Just as he reached the door, his phone started to vibrate.

“You in the area?” 

The question from his boss was more a formality than an actual query. Gunter knew that Jakob always arrived half an hour early for any sort of appointment and it was at least forty minutes before he was due in.

“Just heading up now.”

“Good. There’s been a change of plans: new job’s come in for you. They’d like to meet you before they sign you on.”

A private assignment, it seemed. It was unusual for Gunter to request his presence to close a contract, as often, it was a matter between the employer and the company. Jakob simply went wherever he was needed.

He hung up the call, walking briskly the two blocks to the end of the street and turning the corner before passing through a glass door and climbing the long flight of stairs. He glanced wordlessly at Felicia as he strode past reception, dropping the report on the table in front of her, and she barely managed a greeting, but he had already moved on and into the building. 

Without pause, he made a beeline for Gunter’s office and knocked.

The door opened and Gunter stepped aside. Seated in front of the desk were two other people who rose as he entered. The man was tall, taller than Jakob, which was remarkable in itself, but he was also built like a wall, solid and broad with a stern countenance and short, curled hair the colour of straw. He seemed to be the last person on earth who would have any use for added security.

But then the young woman turned, and Jakob recognised her immediately.

The Wrong Book Girl.

“This is Jakob. Not our finest, but he’ll get the job done.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the jab and shook the taller man’s hand firmly.

“This is Alexander Nohr and his sister, Corrin.”

“Xander,” the man corrected, and his voice was deep, just as intimidating as his expensive-looking suit.

Beside him, Corrin put down her coffee cup. “Hello.” She smiled as if she knew a secret, boldly reaching out to take his hand and shake it as well. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Jakob felt something warm blossom in his chest. 

On Gunter’s desk, he spied a number of open files, fellow guards and their photos clipped to long profiles detailing professional experience. His own file lay on top.

“So, Jakob,” Xander said, casting a critical eye over him. “I am looking for a bodyguard for my sister.”

---

The Nohr family name was not one that didn’t come with a few whispers and sidelong glances. The eldest brother, Alexander was heir to a global empire of assets, ranging from luxury resorts and hotels to investments in mining and fossil fuels. His sister Camilla was a minor celebrity. Charming and beautiful, she could be found rubbing shoulders with other socialites and the occasional pop star. She ran a wildly popular Instagram account on fashion and travel and as a consequence, was in a constant state of boarding a plane for somewhere better than where you currently were. 

Their youngest siblings, Leo and Elise were still of an age unsuitable for the pressures of dealing with international business and media attention, and little was generally known of them, but Corrin…

Corrin was a mystery.

Jakob had never heard mention of her, not even in the tabloids that liked to splash pictures of her sister’s bikini-clad body over their front pages.

“Xander doesn’t like people knowing about me,” she explained as he watched her reach into a safe hidden in the wardrobe of the spare room in her apartment and produce a second key card. “I think he’s worried I’ll end up like Camilla. I don’t see what’s wrong with that, though. She’s popular and she’s always going somewhere and she meets so many people. I wish I could meet people.”

Jakob wedged the card into his wallet and made a note of the company that was responsible for its operation and maintenance.

“He’s very strict with me. It took me ages to convince him to let me move out.” Corrin shut the safe and it locked with a mechanical whir before she closed the wardrobe. “Anyway, that’s where you come in.”

“I keep an eye on you.”

“You keep me a secret.”

“And you keep your freedom.”

She smiled. “That’s right.”

They found their way to her large cream leather sofa, which faced a giant mounted television and a sound bar that made Jakob a little envious. To their left, ceiling-to-floor windows that ran almost the length of the wall afforded a spectacular view of sprawling city lights. 

To be fair, Corrin’s apartment was less of an apartment and more of a penthouse. Being on the outskirts of the more exclusive end of town, the place lacked the lavish excess that many of the higher-end suites offered but still boasted hardwood floors, an open-plan living, dining, kitchen space, and its own library. There were so many skylights that Jakob wondered what miracles they’d had to perform to deliver wiring to the light fixtures, and he could have sworn the floor plans indicated that her en suite contained a spa bath.

She handed him a thin file of documents, amongst which was the security pin to her front door and a list of emergency contact numbers.

Her schedule spoke of a life of tight control and stringent security. At twenty-three years of age (honestly, she looked younger), she was completing her final year of university and everything, down to her free periods of time, was mapped out in a grid, black and white, occupied and vacant. 

“The last lady was kind of crazy. She’s the one that came up with this. She was really good at her job, but I think she was actually insane. Xander got rid of her because he was afraid she was more of a risk to me than a help.”

Jakob frowned. “How did you stop them from leaking your identity?”

Corrin gave him a very long, silent look.

He held up his hands. “Forget I asked.” He folded up the schedule, which was double-sided, a two-week cycle of activities, and slid it into his pocket beside the novel. It wouldn’t take him long to memorise the entire timetable, but his transition into her lifestyle was dependent on how cooperative Corrin was willing to be. 

He was to arrive at her apartment every morning at eight, and accompany her until ten in the evening, or when she decided that it was appropriate for him to leave. On weekends, he was not expected to be present until noon. Once a month on a Sunday, he reported to Xander.

“I may as well live in your spare room,” he sighed, thinking of all the early mornings that he would have to endure.

She stared at him intently. “You could.”

He almost had to double take to make sure she was aware that he was only speaking rhetorically. “That would be grossly unprofessional.”

Corrin giggled, breaking her act. “You’re so serious, Jakob!” 

He chewed the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling. Her mood was infectious.

“I don’t know about gross, but it would get us both in a lot of trouble,” she conceded. “Is this your first time doing something like this?”

Jakob nodded. “Unfortunately so. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not entirely familiar with the process.”

“Sure.”

“I must ask though, why would your brother choose me when many of my colleagues are much more experienced?”

“He didn’t pick you. I did.” 

He hesitated, but then decided that he wanted to know. “Why?”

She leaned forward conspiratorially, her smile beckoning him to do the same. Jakob knew she was being coy, but the knowledge gave him no immunity and it was only by the bare edge of his wits that he didn’t follow the movement.

“Because I think you’re cute.”

She winked, and he felt his face heat up like someone had lit a fire in the pit of his stomach.

“Inappropriate,” he mumbled.

It took but a second for the spell to shatter. 

She punched him gently on the shoulder, laughing openly again as she fell sideways on the sofa. “Oh my god, you’re so uptight, I love it!” She pointed a finger at him and he sighed, frowning as he tried to will the blush away. “That’s payback for what happened in the café earlier. That was kind of mean, you know?”

Jakob faced her with the coldest expression that he could muster. “You were wrong.”

“I was taking a risk! One of the few times I was alone somewhere, and I chose to talk to you! If I wasn’t a stronger person, you could have scarred me for life!”

“And I suppose you spoke to me because I looked weak and vulnerable, and not because I was… cute?”

It was her turn to go red, and the colour made her adorable, stumbling over her words as she tried to deny it. “I-I thought you’d be nice. I was definitely wrong about that.”

Almost a minute more and Jakob would have laughed too, but with a jolt, he remembered that he was at work – he had barely known this client for more than a couple of hours, and already he was too comfortable with them. It was bad for business, making friends with someone he was being paid to protect, but god forbid, finding them… attractive? Out of the question.

What a shame, he thought as he carefully slid a little further back on the sofa, sat a little straighter. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually wanted to spend more time with someone else.

He checked himself, clearing his throat and trying desperately not to think too hard about the sound of her giggle and the way her skirt rode up her thigh as she leaned back in her seat.

Gunter would kill him.

Xander would kill him. Actually kill him.

He picked up the file and stood.

“Thank you for your time today, Miss Nohr.”

Her expression sobered quickly at the formal address. “Not at all. You can call me Corrin, it’s okay.”

“Probably better,” he agreed. Less people would recognise her first name.

“So… um. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. At eight.”

“Yes.”

She stared a moment, and looked as though she would have said something more, but he turned and made to leave.

“Oh! I’ll see you out.”

At the door, she bid him a good night and he caught sight of a surveillance camera situated just outside her front door. Anyone who came, anyone who went would be recorded and marked with a timestamp. Friends, family.

Lovers.

He shook his head and called for the lift.

It was not uncommon for her summons to go unanswered. There were few servants at the Northern Fortress, and often, they were distracted by either Felicia setting fire to something, or were simply occupied with something else.

Corrin waited only long enough to work her gauntlets and wrist guards loose and shed them where she stood before dipping her hands into a basin of (cold, goodness, Felicia,) water to wash the grime from her fingers. Drying her hands on a soft cloth, she left her room.

The Northern Fortress sat on the border of what was historically, heavily contested land. As a result, the fortress was structured as simply that – austere, heavily fortified barracks for housing soldiers in preparation for war. Now that the borders of Nohr stretched far beyond this point, it had been repurposed as Corrin’s home – though it often felt more like a prison than a home.

Fortunately, the nature of the Northern Fortress meant that servants were given the unusual benefit of being granted individual rooms, and the privacy was a privilege so great, not a soul cared to complain of the size of their quarters.

Corrin knew where Jakob slept. It was a piece of knowledge that she guarded jealously because she knew that Gunter would take a riding crop to Jakob’s wrists and shoulders if he ever found out that the princess was visiting his chambers in the dead of the night to trade books and whispered conversations when she couldn’t sleep.

Lately, Jakob had been more reluctant to open his door to her – he spoke constantly of propriety and what was appropriate, and Corrin, well-read and suitably informed by her sister, had more than just a vague notion of what it all meant. However, she also knew for certain that she didn’t like being told that she wasn’t allowed to spend time with him, especially now, when she realised suddenly that she would rather be around no one else.

She found that she liked to watch him whenever she could, studying his profile when he focused on work or catching a glimpse of him when he sparred with the other boys. Not that she could really call Jakob a boy anymore… she couldn’t remember when things had started to change, but now when he spoke, his voice was deeper, a low, wonderful sound that sank like hot liquid into the depths of her chest, and he had put on a lot of height, towering head and shoulders over her in a way that made her want to crawl into his lap and steal the warmth from his skin.

Thinking about him made her feel sick with delight.

Even now, as she approached his room, her stomach flipped like she was falling, and she had to inhale deeply to slow the rapid pulse of her heart. She was irrationally nervous. All she had to do was ask if –

“Oh!”

Corrin’s shoulder was knocked backward, unprepared for the sudden contact, and an arm reached out to steady her, a maid who immediately gasped in recognition and released her hold, dropping into a deep curtsy.

“Princess! A thousand apologies, Your Highness!”

Corrin waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s quite all right. My attention was elsewhere.”

“As was mine, milady. Forgive me for being inexcusably clumsy.”

“Think nothing of it. There is nothing to forgive.”

The maid lifted her gaze, smiling and Corrin could not help but notice that she was remarkably pretty, with blonde hair and eyes the colour of the sky on a fine day. She folded her hands neatly upon the front of her apron and politely inclined her head. “Can I be of assistance, my lady? Do you seek Flora?”

“Jakob, actually.”

“Oh.” At this, the maid directed her eyes downward again, and seemed to hesitate, the tips of her fingers worrying the edge of her skirt. “He is in his room, Your Highness. Though I believe him to be presently occupied.”

The sensation of falling returned, but this time, Corrin felt dread clench about her gut.

“Th-thank you…”

“Clara, Your Highness,” she curtsied again, colour rising into her cheeks and Corrin felt suddenly ill, nauseous as the maid’s words seeped into her skin, crawled into her pores with little thin legs to wriggle and bite.

“Thank you, Clara.”

She curtsied once more, but Corrin had already turned to continue her path, her steps quickened by fear or anger – she could not tell which.

She found his door ajar, and in her urgency, forgot to knock, pushing it open and letting herself in as his name left her mouth in a bark.

“Jakob!”

Dismay struck her square in the chest like a blow from Gunter’s shield, and she was winded, her heart still and all sound stifled as she watched him turn in shock to face her, his hands grasping at his half-open shirt for decency as he stammered unfinished words and excuses.

“Lady Corrin! I am not – I didn’t hear –“

She couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t speak.

“Apologies, milady, if you could spare me a moment, I could – “

The air smelt stale, acrid with the scent of something unseen, warm like the heat of two bodies.

I believe him to be presently occupied.

Her chest heaved against her inanely ill-fitting leathers and swallowing the bile that sat at the back of her tongue, she willed her lips to smile through the pain of her heart cleaving in two.

“Do not concern yourself, Jakob, it is only me.”

A burden, a chore.

“I came to ask you something.”

It was a tone Camilla had made her practice, repeat so often that it came with only slight effort.

Still his fingers fumbled at the buttons and Corrin stared jealously at the smooth skin and taut muscle that he hid away – a sight for someone else.

But never for her.

“Felica cannot find any clean stockings. Are you able to assist?”

The question sounded foolish and trivial. In that moment, Corrin could not have cared any less if she caught her death walking barefoot through the halls of this damned fortress.

“She sent you to fetch me?” Irritation caused his brow to furrow. “Is she insane?”

“Felicia is not at fault, I came of my own accord.” And oh, how she regretted that decision.

“Nonsense,” he muttered, and Corrin hated the way she enjoyed watching him knot his cravat, neat and pleasantly high upon his neck.

Did he remove it himself, or did she help him?

Where did she touch him?

Do you love her?

The questions prickled on the tip of her tongue and frustration wrenched an empty substitute from her lips. “Who were you with?”

“J-just a friend, milady,” it was the same blush, the same downward glance.

Why did she have to be so beautiful?

All of a sudden it felt like her lungs were bloated with water, her throat tight. Corrin was drowning and she had to leave, lest she retched and spite was expelled from her mouth.

“I’m sorry I was a bother, Jakob. I’ll see if Flora can help.”

She did not care to hear what else he had to say, turning to leave, and wandered blindly, until she returned to her own rooms where she gave no replies to Felica and Flora’s concerned questioning.

She nodded numbly as Flora explained that her stockings had simply been moved, and there were plenty, so there was no need to fret.

Silently, she let the sisters undress her and climbed into the bath they had prepared, sinking beneath the surface where it was warm and she could not tell the scented water apart from the tears that she shed.

“Felicia. Please inform Jakob that I do not want dinner. He is not to disturb me tonight.”

She curtsied, but hesitated. “Milady, you must eat.”

Corrin pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms about her legs as if she could hold herself together through sheer force of will alone. “Please, Felicia.”

At length, she curtsied again. “Yes, Lady Corrin.”

In the silence, Corrin sat still, shut her eyes as Flora’s cool, slender fingers threaded through her hair and pressed firm strokes against her neck and scalp.

“My lady, do not punish yourself for the sorrow that others might inflict,” she advised quietly. “They are not deserving of your suffering.”

Corrin sighed. “Thank you, Flora.”

“If I can aid you in any way, milady, you have but to ask.”

For a long moment, Corrin considered being benevolent, gentle and forgiving, but she had not the strength, and it was too easy to speak the words without conscience, draw a line in the air across her throat and call for blood.

“The maid, Clara. Do you know her?”

“Yes, she works in the kitchen.”

“Her efforts are to be commended. I wish to recommend her for promotion.”

There was silence as Flora ceased her ministrations and reached for a pitcher. “An excellent suggestion, Lady Corrin. I shall put a good word through to Gunter.”

---

The motion was a small one, almost casual. Camilla laughed softly as the young Duke spoke of studding horses, her long fingers neatly grasping the edge of Corrin's glass and whisking it away from the server before he could attempt to pour more wine.

“Wait, sister –“

There was not a single word spoken in direct response, but Camilla smiled brightly, her eyes narrowing as she laid a hand firmly on the satin of Corrin’s skirts.

“I think I’ve heard quite enough about the size of a stallion’s member, don’t you?”

Corrin stared vacantly at the man beside her, almost surrendering to the urge to frown. “Yes. One might presume to expect too much.”

Laughter cut through the low chatter and Duke coloured indignantly.

He asked her afterward, his voice low as he bent to speak softly, unpleasantly close to her ear, if she would be so kind as to honour him with her company as he had never been to Castle Krakenburg before, and would very much like a tour of the grounds.

Corrin would have been more interested had she been shown the underside of a slug.

But she could hardly say as much, and simply gave him another empty smile, evading a touch to her shoulder like she would the glance of a blade and excusing herself to retire with the other ladies from the dining hall.

With absolutely no intention to stay, she bid Camilla and Elise a good night and left without a word to anyone else, not caring that they would whisper of her cold and graceless behaviour, unbefitting of a princess of Nohr.

Her fingers closed upon the neck of a tall, unattended pitcher of mulled wine, and with the same motion she had just learnt from her sister, took it gently away, her only companion as she thought miserably of Jakob and how he was probably somewhere else, seeking comfort in the arms of a friend he had made years ago at the Northern Fortress.

---

The first sign that something had gone awry was the sound of shattering glass.

Jakob jerked in shock in his seat, the needle slipping between his fingers and he quickly dropped the hem of the cotton blouse, mere moments before a bead of crimson formed and began to run.

He released his breath in a long, hissing exhale, pulled the thread taut with his teeth and slowly, silently, counted to ten. He got as far as six before the clomp of heeled shoes reached earshot.

She was getting better at anticipating disaster, even if she hadn’t a clue on how to avert it.

It was certainly dire, he realised, as the door swung open without so much as an attempt to knock, and she stumbled into his temporary quarters with the momentum of the movement.

“Where’s the fire, Felicia?” He asked dryly.

She shook her head. “No, Jakob – it’s Corrin – Lady Corrin. She’s had far too much to drink.”

He stood at once, sewing forgotten. “Where is she?”

Felicia was nothing if at the very least, quick when it came to requesting aid. She hurried back out the door with Jakob on her heels, passing through a short corridor that connected their much smaller rooms to the solar of the guest suite.

The princess was found standing in the centre of the darkened room, still and staring as though lost. In one hand she held a metal pitcher, which she mindlessly released, letting it clatter hollowly and roll over the remains of what appeared to be a broken crystal statue of a swan at her feet. There had been a function at the palace that evening and she was laced up in a gown of pale blue satin with a neckline that dipped in such a way that made Jakob forget for a moment how to breathe.

“I dropped it,” she explained, smiling, and Jakob barely managed to completely close the distance to catch her by the shoulders before she could reach down to pick up the shards with her bare hands.

He gestured to Felicia. “Take her to her room and put her to bed,” he instructed, already planning how he would clean the jagged glass they trod upon.

Felicia nodded and tried to reach for Corrin, but with a sharp, petulant whine of irritation, the princess swatted her away.

“Horrible! Unhand me. I won’t allow it.”

Felicia turned to look at Jakob, shaking her head helplessly. “I’ve tried already. She won’t listen to me.”

Honestly, if you wanted something done right…

“Come now, Lady Corrin,” he soothed, pressing a hand between the blades of her shoulders to gently propel her towards her room. Suddenly obedient, she took to his encouragement without any resistance and Jakob flicked a hand at the mess they left behind so that Felicia might take the cue to clean it before he returned.

However, Corrin had other ideas.

No sooner had Jakob eased the door shut, he felt her hand upon his back and alarmed, spun immediately to face her, stepping away.

“Ah,” she frowned, reaching for him again, and he barely managed to catch her by the wrists, forcing her back, trying to get her to stand straight, to not… tempt him with her bare shoulders and neck exposed by her dress. By the moonlight, he could see that her cheeks were flushed red, and there was the scent of fruit and spice on her lips as she spoke.

“You weren’t so shy before. Let me hold you.”

It was a cruel joke, he realised, much too late, standing alone with his mistress in her bedchamber as she swayed, intoxicated on her feet and mistook him for someone else.

“Lady Corrin, stop. It’s me. Jakob.”

“Good,” she giggled softly, and the sound wove like a net over his heart. “Come here, Jakob.”

“No,” he replied firmly. It was a reminder to them both that she was senselessly drunk and knew not what she spoke; an order to maintain his distance. He gripped her wrists tightly and tried to ignore the writhing anxiety that came with the guilt of knowing. Of wanting.

Gently, he attempted to guide her towards the bed, to have her seated in a bid to escape from this nightmarish trap of his own devising so that Felicia (the gods themselves never could have imagined the day he required her help!) might rescue him.

With a motion trained and too swift, Corrin turned and threw her arms about his shoulders, throwing her entire weight upon him. Unprepared, he stumbled and could only reach for her out of reflex as they both toppled upon the bed.

“Lady Corrin -!”

There was a flurry of motion, a delectable confusion of bare skin and satin as she giggled again, pressing herself close to him and in that moment, Jakob was powerless to fight, because being touched by Corrin felt like being burned by a fire he couldn’t contain, like being drawn by the weight of the moon and drowning, euphoric in the tides.

“Just a taste,” she sang softly, so warm and pliant in his arms.

He couldn’t.

How many times had he fantasised of such a scene? Of having her witless and willing, because nothing else would ever allow the suggestion of impropriety. However, now confronted with it, the reality was horrifying, both in the possibility of having his wicked desires realised and in the fact that he found it utterly reprehensible. He could never forgive himself for such a dire lapse in judgement, for dragging the reputation of the one person he held dearest down into the filth of rumours whispered behind the flicker of a fan, about princesses with no honour who deemed to take their own servants to bed.

What would have been the point in resisting, in dressing his affection in decorum and drowning his desire in another girl?

What would be the point of his duty if he couldn’t even protect her from himself?

“My lady, you must stop.” He gently took her arms and pushed her back, rising from the bed and shaking his head when she tried to reach for him again.

“Why?” She asked, her voice plaintive, and her expression crumpled with dismay. She sat up, gathering her long skirts in both her fists and folding her knees to her chest. “What did I do wrong? You don’t mind kissing other girls, but you… You don’t want me.”

Jakob felt his heart wrench as she pressed her hands to her face and started to weep.

Who had done this to her? What deplorable scum had abused her kindness and corrupted her joy?

Slowly, he knelt before her, waiting until she lowered her hands and looked at him, her breath ragged with sorrow, her face wet with tears.

“You are mistaken,” he told her.

Do I dare?

“You cannot possibly know -”

How much of this will she remember?

“- how much I want you -”

This… is a mistake.

“- to only be mine.”

Smile for me, Princess.

Her lips were soft, her face warm. He felt her hand grip the fabric of his waistcoat and she leaned against him, a small, sweet whimpering note hummed in her throat, pushed onto his tongue. He tasted wine in the heat between her parted lips, and it was enough to intoxicate him too.

He parted the kiss with a sigh, stood and stepped back, his heart a storm of fear and elation, pierced deep with guilt.

Jakob couldn’t explain why he had decided to do this, only moments after convincing himself that it was a doomed choice, treacherous and lonely. He didn’t know why he felt the compulsion to flee, as though the longer he stood there, the greater the risk of being caught out, called traitor, exposed as a fraud.

“Felicia!” He growled as he strode out of the room, hiding behind a veil of irritation. “Lady Corrin is now calm. Kindly assist her.”

The maid scampered past him, barely acknowledging his words.

---

The second time had been a joke.

It really shouldn’t have been, as they had become of the age where marriage was no longer a concept of romance, trimmed in white lace and embellished with the honey-sweet pink of roses, but had revealed itself to be in actuality, an iron-bound tactic, securing wealth, status and power.

The day had been long and trying, and when he came to her side that evening to offer obligatory company and comfort, she could not help but feel a pang of jealousy, even though the root of her apprehension was one imagined.

“If I should lose you one day to the woman you marry, I would be helpless, Jakob.”

He smiled as he refilled her tea cup.

“The only solution to that, milady, is if you were the woman I married.”

The words stilled the movement of her hand, driving deep into her blood, which raced with a thousand anxious questions, a heady rush of anticipation and longing, fright and doubt.

“Of course, I jest,” he added quickly.

Corrin felt herself deflate, emptying every optimistic thought in a silent sigh.

If he noticed, he made no indication.

“Forgive me for my impudence, milady. Though you need not be concerned. I will serve you to the very best of my ability for as long as you’ll have me - regardless of whom I marry.”

She watched the milk bloom in slow swirls through her tea and wished for the strength to speak her mind, to be as bold as she had been as a girl and to take him by the hand and flee to another time and place where rules and expectation were a distant dream, and Jakob regarded her with the sort of affection that she only read of in novels.

“Your loyalty is unparalleled,” she replied quietly. “Thank you, Jakob.”

But she craved more than loyalty, more than just a gentle smile and a deep bow.

---

The third time had been in secret, an hour of morning barely dawn, so dark that he could not see so much as feel her beside him, her breathing deep and slow, her skin soft and warm against his chest.

What had begun as an indulgent hour or two once or twice a week had become a poor habit of his, lingering in his mistress’ bed until sleep claimed them both and he woke curled about her like a child desperately clinging to security, safety, a bond that would destroy him should it break.

It would be disastrous for Corrin if the army caught wind of their affair. Jakob had privately vowed to maintain the nature of their relationship as clandestine, a truth that he would guard with silence for the rest of his life. He understood that ultimately, this liaison was damned - had he only been content to serve her, he might have been able to remain by her side, but in a moment of weakness, he had caved, a wretched creature starving for her touch, and now his time with her would inevitably end with the war.

He was little more than a distraction to be stifled and concealed, discarded once her duty called for a union of benefit to the state.

But in pockets of silence, with no hour or witness, Jakob prayed for leniency for his sins, for a miracle.

Marry me, he begged, and the hope carved deep into his heart, drawing blood so that it might live and leave him with nothing when it was finally snatched away.

For their love was only fit to exist under cover of darkness, and come the dawn, the flame would surely burn out.

---

The final time they spoke of this, she was no longer a girl, but stood before him, queen regnant of an entire kingdom, dressed in sky blue and the purest white.

He knelt in awe, his head inclined and dared not look upon her face, for she was fearsome and sacred now, second only to the gods themselves.

And she had called him here to sentence him to death.

“I release you from your service to the crown.”

He endured the blow, painful as it was, and urged himself to smile.

“It has been an honour, Your Majesty.”

What was his life without his duty? Who was he without a master to aid?

Oblivious to his agony, she laughed, and to his horror, came to stand close, drawing her fingertips gently against his cheek. He retreated, afraid that others would see, knowing that those present in the throne room would not hesitate at an opportunity to tarnish her name.

She laughed again.

“Oh, Jakob! I thought it would be amusing, but I cannot bear to see you make that face. Forgive me, my love.”

The endearment struck him dumb, and he could only stare as she too, knelt, and in that second she was Corrin, his Corrin, precious and lovely and his heart ached and bled with everything he felt for her.

“So now that you are your own man, I have one more thing to ask.”

He almost retreated again, but she took his hands and held them to her chest.

“Will you marry me?”

Reality melded into the imaginary, annihilating a million moments of sorrow and loneliness, a lifetime of darkness drowned in the coming of a new dawn.

“Yes,” he whispered.

Yes.