𓆩♡𓆪

her father, the king, looked at you with approval.

"arthur’s daughter," he mused, pleased. "you will make a fine knight, just like your father."

your father kneeled before him, his fist over his heart. devotion, loyalty. "she will learn well, my king. one day, she will take my place and serve you loyally. she will protect what is most precious to you and she will serve your daughter until her dying breath."

sophia watches as you bow your head, murmuring a quiet, "your grace.” acknowledgement.

you did not meet her eyes like she wanted you to. you barely even looked at her. and sophia, who was used to attention, finds herself frowning at the lack of exchange.

later, sophia finds you in the courtyard. you’re sitting alone on the stone bench, the quiet space overlooking the training grounds where the knights practiced. the air was was thick with the sound of clashing swords, the loud shouts of young men sparring, and the laughter of the nobility’s sons racing across the field, poking fun at pretending to be knights. 

but you’re not like them. you wouldn’t be. you sat still, perfectly composed, your hands folded neatly in your lap, watching the knights with an intensity far too strange to be seen in a child.

the boys run and play, their laughter echoing in the distance, but you don’t join them. you don’t laugh. (why would you?) you don’t even smile. 

instead, you watch the knights’ movements. the way they wield their swords with practiced ease, the way their feet shifted against the dirt, the way they carry themselves like warriors in their peak. 

sophia decides that it was your father’s influence.

sophia approaches you, her cheerful voice piercing through the quiet. "hey, you’re the commander’s daughter," 

you glance up, your sharp gaze catching hers for just a moment before you returned your attention back to the knights below. "and you are the princess," you replied, your voice steady.

she beams at you, completely unbothered by the formality in your words. "uh-huh!" she exclaims, plopping herself down beside you without asking. 

"which means you must be my knight." her grin is wide, innocent.

you blink, taken aback, your eyes flicking to her for only a second. "i am no knight," you say quietly, turning your attention back to the knights on the field, feeling their movements etch themselves into your memory.

"not yet," she corrected, "but you will be. you’re going to be the greatest knight in the whole kingdom!"

you don’t respond to her excitement. you’re quiet, your thoughts heavy and focused on the distant sparring knights. sophia’s words hang in the air, and they don’t quite reach you.

 instead, you continue to watch the training grounds, fascinated by the fluid wave of the knights’ movements, wondering if you’ll be able to stand to their level one day.

"why are you here, princess?" you ask after a moment, the question simple but with a curiosity behind it that you don’t usually show.

she shrugs, looking at the sky above. "because you looked lonely."

because you looked lonely.

you don’t say anything in response. you simply keep your gaze on the knights below. the boys who were once laughing and playing are now just faces in the distance, you don’t bother familiarising yourself with them anymore. 

"why are you so quiet?" she asks, a little puzzled, her voice dripping with concern.

you turn your eyes toward her, noting the genuine curiosity in her expression. "why are you so loud?" you counter, your tone even.

she giggles, a light sound that rings through the silent courtyard, warming your chest as you shifted in your spot. 

"someone has to be," she says, nudging you playfully with her shoulder.

for the first time, the smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of your lips, but it disappeared almost as quickly as it came.

"i’ve decided," sophia says suddenly, her voice full of determination. "you will be my most loyal knight.”

you exhale softly, not surprised, but amused by her certainty and boldness. "it’s not your choice, princess. there could be someone much better trained out there, compared to me."

but she doesn’t back down. she never will, as you’ve come to realise later on. "no, there won’t," she says firmly. "because when i am queen, i will command it."

you don’t answer right away. you just stared at her, gaze softened. this time, you do smile. just a small thing, barely there. but it was real. 

in that quiet moment, you realized that she did seal your fate. though for now, you are just children. for now, she smiles at you like you are the only thing in the world that mattered. and for now, that is enough.

—-

you stood in the training yard, the sound of clashing swords ringing in your ears, the weight of the blade in your hand grounded you to the moment. your father’s approval was always there, a quiet pressure in the back of your mind, and the thought of it kept you moving, kept you focused. every swing of the sword, every calculated step was done with purpose. you were determined, relentless. there was no room for anything else. 

you must prove yourself.

the other boys laugh and joke as they sparred, their voices light and careless, and you knew you can’t afford to be like them. they move with the ease of someone who knows that there will be another chance, but you? you don’t don’t have that luxury. you must be better, always better. every strike, every movement is a step closer to something you can’t even name yet, but something that feels like the only way to survive.

your father watched from the sidelines, his gaze unwavering, and you could feel it, sharp as a blade like always. it’s all the validation you need, even if you’ve never heard a word of praise. that was the way it’s always been.

and yet, as you pushed yourself, you felt something in the air shift, an uneasy weight. it’s the feeling of never being enough, no matter how many times you proved yourself.

and then that’s when you saw her—sophia, standing off to the side, leaning against the stone pillar, her eyes fixed on you. her gaze was unblinking, and there’s something in the way she watched that made your heart stutter.

you don’t want her attention. it feels too soft, too invasive, too vulnerable, in a way that makes the air around you feel more suffocating, heavier.

when you stopped for a moment, sweat dripping down your brow, she spoke. her voice cut through the silence, light but pointed. “you’re trying too hard.”

you froze for a moment, the weight of her words settling over you like a blanket. your first instinct was to brush it off, to shrug and say nothing and ignore her. but you can’t. couldn’t. not this time. 

instead, you wipe your brow and glanced at her briefly, offering only the barest of responses. “it’s how i’m taught. because if i don’t, someone else will be better.”

she doesn’t look surprised by your answer, just studied you in the way she does, her gaze never faltered. she stepped forward a little, her voice quieter now, a hint of something softer behind it.

 “and what if it’s not enough? what if being the best doesn’t make you happy?”

you felt  the question settle in your chest heavily and unfamiliar. it’s not something you’ve ever really allowed yourself to consider. happiness isn’t something that existesd here, not in the world where only the sharpest and most disciplined survived.

you looked at her funny, but didn't answer straight away. instead, you turned your attention back to the sparring knights, needing the distraction. needing to bury the question before it took root in your mind.

“it will.” you mutter, and you don’t let yourself dwell more about it, even if it felt wrong and foreign in your tongue.

there’s a long silence. you can feel her watching you, but you don’t turn to meet her gaze again. you focused on the sword in your hand and the weight of it, the way it felt like an extension of your body. 

it was the only thing that made sense right now.

but behind you, sophia doesn’t respond. she doesn’t argue, doesn’t push. because knew better than to believe your words. but you know that lingered, awaited for something—maybe for you to look at her again, to actually hear her.

you kept moving, movements sharp and precise, but even as you fought, there was something unsettled, something more than just the burn in your young muscles. a small, quiet part of you that wondered if she was right. but you couldn’t afford to stop and think about it. you’ve wasted too much time talking to her. so, you kept going, because that’s all you knew how to do.

yet.

—

over the years, you and sophia had grown closer in ways neither of you ever expected. when you were younger, the distance between the two of you had always been clear—but that that divide blurred, softened, throughout the years.

sophia’s playfulness never truly went away, but it had deepened, matured. that much you expected.

and you? you stayed calculated, still planned three steps ahead, but somewhere along the way, you had learned to let her in past your defenses.

at sixteen, the two of you were no longer just the princess and the daughter of the commander. you had become something else. friends, yes, but possibly something more. 

sophia had become someone you trusted, someone who understood the quiet moments between words, the way your mind never really stopped moving even in moments of peace.

and she had learned to meet you there.

sometimes, when she laughed, it would remind you of the way she used to be when she was younger—loud, carefree, like she had no care in the state of the world. 

but now, there was a certain softness to her, a calmness that reflected in the way she had matured over the years. she still teased you—that, you were sure will never go away—still pulled you into moments of silliness and you’d begrudgingly let her pull you in.

one afternoon, the sound of your father, calling out commands, echoed through the open space. 

he was pushing you harder than usual, the drills grew more intense, more demanding. you stood tall, your posture unwavering, sweat dripping down your brow as you went through each movement with practice.

 there was no room for error—every strike, every block, every step had to be perfect. it had to be perfect.

sophia, manon, and lara happened to be passing by, and as they approached, they couldn’t help but pause at the sight.

“oh, wow,” manon said, eyes widening in dramatic surprise as she stared at you. “look at y/n. she’s, like, all muscles now.”

lara squinted at you, her face a picture of exaggerated thoughtfulness. “right? definitely all muscles. i wonder if you run into her that she’ll just end up feeling like a wall. not to mention, god, she’s so pretty.”

sophia’s gaze shifted towards you, following the movements of your body, the way you moved with such focus and strength. she hadn’t realized how much you had changed over the years. the lean muscles in your arms, the way your body had grown from the thin, aloof child into someone far more charming.

and for a brief moment, she found herself staring. but it was different this time. it held her prisoner in the moment, unable to look away.

however, she quickly snapped out of it, cheeks flushing a little as she tried to laugh it off, but her gaze kept returning to you. there was something about the way you moved—so disciplined, so intense.

“what are you staring at, princess?” manon teased, nudging sophia’s side with her elbow.

“nothing!” sophia replied a little too loudly, trying to mask her sudden fluster and red cheeks with a laugh. “i—i’m just... uh, just admiring the, uh… the…te.. technique! the technique! it’s impressive, okay?”

lara snickered, crossing her arms. “sophia’s got it bad,” she said in a sing-song voice. “someone’s in love.” the rajagopalan dynasty’s princess dragged out.

“i’m not in love!” sophia quickly protested, her voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing. “i’m just—look, it’s just hard not to notice, okay? she’s... all grown up. and... very focused.”

meanwhile, you were blissfully unaware of the ongoing conversation, too deep in your training to care. your father, watching from the sidelines, was doing his best to hide the smirk creeping onto his face.

 he crossed his arms, eyes twinkling with a mix of pride and mild amusement as he watched sophia try to hide her flustered expression from her friends’ teasing.

"y/n!" he called out, his voice thundering throughout the courtyard. "stop getting distracted. focus!"

confused at his sudden outburst despite the fact that you were focusing, you immediately snapped back to your drill, adjusting your stance and continuing the movements without a second thought. 

sophia quickly looked away, her face turning a shade redder than usual as manon and lara fought to keep their grins in check.

“yep, totally not in love,” lara whispered to manon with a wink.

“she’s definitely not in love,” manon whispered back, both of them now completely absorbed in watching sophia squirm at their words.

your father caught the exchange out of the corner of his eye once again, though he pretended to ignore it. his lips that had had let the smirk spread, but his gaze never wavered from you as he called out again, “again, y/n. one more time. don’t get sloppy now.”

you didn’t notice a thing, of course. you were too focused on keeping up with your father’s rigorous pace to pay any attention to sophia and her friends. but sophia? sophia would never quite forget the way she had found herself staring a little too long at the girl she had known since she was a child—the girl who was now possibly so much more than that.

and as they walked away, manon leaning in to whisper something to lara, sophia’s thoughts were a little scattered, her eyes flicking up to you one last time before she hurried to catch up.

your father watched her go with a raised eyebrow, amusement barely hidden. "you're doing well, y/n," he said, his voice steady, though there was a knowing glint in his eye.

you nodded, eyes trained on your sword. "thanks, father."

and somewhere, deep down, you couldn't help but wonder why everyone else seemed to be so focused on you all of a sudden.

–

a week later, sleep had evaded sophia. the nights seemed longer lately, and her thoughts tangled in ways she didn’t want to admit. the silence in her room only made the restlessness worse, so she decided to take a late night stroll through the castle’s endless corridors. 

wrapped in a loose nightgown, her bare feet were quiet against the stone floors, she wandered aimlessly, letting her mind travel wherever it pleased.

the castle at night was always quiet, eerily so, and sophia liked it that way. but tonight, there was something almost peaceful in the quiet. that was until she reached the courtyard.

through the large arched windows, she saw a figure moving against the night sky. it was you—no doubt about it—still training, despite the late hour. 

your tunic was soaked with sweat, clinging to your skin as you moved through the steps of another drill, oblivious to the time.

sophia stood there for a moment, watching you with furrowed brows. she could feel the cool night air brush her skin, but there you were, perfectly in sync with your movements, as if it was any other day.

she shook her head, biting back a smile. "this is ridiculous." she mumbled to herself.

with a deep breath—hyping herself up to talk to you—, she stepped forward, her bare feet making almost no sound as she moved through the dark courtyard. 

her eyes locked onto you, and she steeled her shoulders, walking up to you with the kind of authority only a princess could carry, even in her sleepwear.

"y/n!" she called, loud enough to break the quiet and peace of the night. "stop!" you didn’t hear her at first.

"sophia," you muttered to yourself, barely pausing to look in her direction, blinking confusedly. 

sophia raised an eyebrow, huffing with mock irritation. "i said stop." she repeated when she caught your arm attempting to swing again. 

this time, her voice had a firmness to it, and you finally turned, sparing her a glance. your expression was neutral, almost bored as you stared back at her.

"i'm not stopping," you said, the words clear and defiant as you wiped the sweat from your forehead. you changed stances, readying for the next move.

sophia crossed her arms, her lips curving into a smirk. smug. "you’ll stop because i’m ordering you to."

you narrowed your eyes, raising an eyebrow. "really? you’re going to pull rank on me at this hour?"

sophia hesitated, looking at you in disbelief for a moment before giving a dramatic sigh. "fine, i won’t ‘order’ you. but can you at least take a break? i’m surprised you even know how late it is now."

you didn’t immediately respond, and instead, you moved into another series of attacks, form still perfectly sharp.

"y/n," she tried again, this time with an exaggerated whine. "you’re going to wake the whole castle with your...your… clanging!"

surprisingly, you actually stopped. rolling your eyes as you set the sword down. you were beyond exhausted, but you refused to show it.

"whatever, princess. go ahead and get your beauty sleep," you said, feigning indifference. “don’t want to wake up the whole castle, after all.”

sophia couldn’t help but laugh at your sarcasm. "are you always this annoying?" she asked, her voice filled with teasing, though there was a glint of something else. something less playful, more... curious.

you turned your head just slightly, avoiding her eyes. "i’m not annoying. you’re just tired. go back to bed before you wake up your entire kingdom."

sophia blinked, suddenly remembering something that had been bugging her all night. "speaking of which," she said, "why are you even still training this late? don’t you know it's a new moon tonight?"

 she waved her hand vaguely toward the sky. "it’s literally so dark out here, y/n. like, how are you even seeing anything?"

you paused, staring at her. "are you... are you really asking me if i can see in the dark? do you not know that knights are trained to fight in all conditions?"

she leaned back slightly, exaggeratedly inspecting the sky. "yeah, well... i thought maybe you were secretly a bat or something. you know, like, using echolocation to fight? you could probably just echolocate the entire castle and then—"

you blinked, completely deadpan. "okay, no. what are you even talking about right now?"

sophia let out a snort of laughter at the absurdity of it all, her eyes lighting up as she giggled louder than she had meant to. 

louder than she expected, louder than what was probably necessary. for a moment, everything seemed to stop, until she could feel the sudden tension in the space between you two.

you stared at her, eyes wide in confusion, your face heating up with the weirdest mixture of annoyance and... something. 

 "what? why… why are you laughing?" you asked, furrowing your brows, your lips threatening to form a scowl, but failing.

"i just—echolocation," sophia giggled, clutching her sides, her eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "that’s just... i don’t even know where to start with that, but it’s so funny!"

you quickly turned away, trying to keep your expression neutral, but your face flushed a deeper shade of red as you mumbled, "shut up, sophia. you’re gonna wake the whole castle with that laugh."

but even then, your words felt weaker than they should have. there was no bite behind them—just a strange sense of vulnerability in your voice, something you weren’t sure how to hide at the sound of her giggles. at the sound of her.

the sound of her laugh, free and unburdened, caught you off guard. it wasn’t the carefree laugh of a princess anymore,  it was something more. it was real. had your gaze softening and your shoulders hunching in the slightest.

and that’s when it hit you. her hair, dark and shining under the moonlight, seemed to shimmer, like it was dusted with stars. the pale moonlight painted her skin a soft silver, and her eyes, her eyes seemed to glint with a hidden amusement, the sort of amusement you could never quite figure out even if you’d wanted to.

then you felt a sudden warmth rising in your chest, and before you could stop it, your face flushed with embarrassment. you quickly looked away, determined not to show it.

sophia, still giggling to herself, barely heard the softness in your tone. she was too lost in the moment.

"maybe i should wake them up," sophia teased, voice light. "imagine all the knights running in to see what’s going on, and then they see you, the stoic commander’s daughter, getting made fun of because you could echolocate your sword moves—"

you cut her off, giving her an exaggerated sigh as you walked back to your training spot, trying your best to ignore the lingering laughter—her laughter— that hung in the air.

she didn’t seem to care, still beaming at you (like always), completely unaware of how her teasing had managed to chip away at your usual composure. you felt that odd warmth again, but this time you didn’t bother hiding it.

“stop laughing. you’re actually going to wake the whole castle this time.” your words came out sharper than you meant them to, but they lacked the firmness they usually carried. 

you were only half-serious, trying to hide the way your heart had skipped a beat. “you’re truly annoying, you know that?”

"absolutely," she replied, grinning ear to ear. "but don’t worry, i’m going to let you get back to your echolocation training now. just try not to wake up the entire castle next time, alright?"

“you try not to wake the entire castle up with your laugh.”you just waved her off, though there was a softness in your demeanor now, a quiet that wasn't quite like your usual aloofness. 

when you picked up your sword again, you could’ve sworn she had already noticed—maybe she was even smiling to herself—but you wouldn’t dare let her catch the flushed look on your face.

sophia made her way back toward the castle, humming a tune to herself. she’d never know how her laugh had done something to you. 

but tonight, it didn’t matter. sophia had just managed to make you feel something that she didn’t even realise she'd been doing all along.

—---

finding herself in the ever-so-lavish solar room of the castle a week later after the midnight run-in with you who had never really ended up bringing it up again, sophia found herself stuck and confined in the silk-lined walls with thread spools scattered around her in every unimaginable colour as she sat stiffly across her mother in the embroidered velvet chaise, early sun filtering through the open windows of the castle.

her mother coughs softly. “fifi, sweetheart, your debut’s just around the corner,” her highness, queen laforteza started, lips quirked into a small, knowing smile.

sophia’s hand stilled on the embroidery hoop perched on her lap, halfway through finishing the attempt to embroider the laforteza house crest—though one of the griffins looked like a lopsided duck instead.

sophia didn’t bother to muffle the groan that escaped her lips, dramatically dropping her head back to meet the golden edge of the chaise and bringing the hoop up to cover her face. “please don’t call it that.”

“don’t call what what?” her mother said innocently, threading a new color into her needle. “your debutante ball? your formal entrance into society?” she gasped, feigning shock. “your grand unveiling?”

“my god,” sophia muttered, dragging the needle through the fabric with a little more force than necessary, brows furrowing as she stared back at her mother unimpressed.

sophia wasn’t dumb. far from that. give her some credit. she knew exactly where this was going. her mother was inching toward the topic like it was some diplomatic strategy that her father had given her the task to look over, all smiles and cunning eyes. 

and of course, the first dance was at the center of it. which, to be fair, any mother would want to know in order to guarantee the safety of her daughter—and in this case, it was the one and only princess of the laforteza kingdom. 

not to mention the suitors. oh, for god’s sake, the suitors. they seemed to multiply with every passing day, letters stacked in neat little piles outside her room after a worker had done their daily rounds droppiung mails to each royal family, always signed too formally and written too stiffly. she sat up, continuing to work on her shit attempt at needlework.

she loathed it. just the mention of it makes her shiver. by god, she can’t deal with them. doesn’t even want to think about them approaching her next year because she knows for a fact that they will, because their ego just truly is at an all-time high whenever they lay eyes on her when really, sophia only knows the only reason why they do is because they either see her as a trophy, or the siren call of the throne.

her thoughts somehow drifted to you.

queen laforteza continued, arching a brow. “and have you thought about who your first dance might be with?” she asked, the question light and playful, but unmistakably pointed.

sophia didn’t look up from her needlework. “mom, my debut’s not until next year.”

“and you say that as if that gives me no reason at all to start planning now,” the queen said, voice airy. “you do know who your dear mother is, don’t you?”

sophia rolled her eyes. “you plan things like they’re battle strategies.”

“well,” her mother said, threading a perfect knot into the fabric, “i did grow up married to a war general. was his assisstant for quite some while too… still kind of am.”

sophia sighed, lips pressing into a thin line. “i’d rather have a sword in my hand than dance with any of those obnoxious lords who can’t even look me in the eye without turning into a puddle.”

“then who can?” her mother said gently. “there must be someone who doesn’t turn to dust under your stare.”

sophia hesitated. her fingers slowed against the hoop. her thoughts drifted to you once more. 

because she was right. god, was her mother right. 

someone can keep their composure perfectly still under her stare and dish it right back, who, even after all these years, never once broke eye contact unless sophia showed signs of discomfort at the exchange—not even when sophia was being absolutely ridiculous or bratty (asking you to play with her dolls with her when she damn well knew you were born with a sword in your hand).

she stayed quiet, not daring to utter your name. she’d have otherwise, were she in the comfort of her own room, but not here with her mother to hear and her too keen eyes peering at her. 

so instead, she stabbed the needle through the fabric a little too hard, forcing a shrug. “i don’t know. maybe i’ll just pick randomly and call it a day.”

the queen gave her a long look but said nothing. only smiled to herself, as if she already knew the answer and was simply waiting for her daughter to admit it out loud.

“alright.”

—

sophia had felt suffocated.

it was only 5 pm in the afternoon and she had already felt the life sucked out of her being after the particularly long session of tea etiquette, posture corrections, and painfully long lessons on “how to cross one’s ankles like a proper lady.” 

which after being dismissed by her etiquette teacher—an old, stern woman who looked as though she’d been plucked from the dustiest corner of the royal library—she made a beeline to where she knew you’d be, eager to run away from the woman’s judging gaze and almost tripping over the skirt of her dress.

she needed air. so in turn, she needed you.

“hey, echolocating knight-in-training, come with me.” her voice was soft and amused as it echoed across the courtyard, breaking your focus just enough. 

you were in the middle of footwork drills as your eyes flicked up toward her, finding her leaning lazily against one of the stone pillars to your right, her silk, pastel pink dress catching the breeze.

she smiled at you, open and easy, albeit a little smug—and you had to suppress the involuntary shiver that crept up your spine at the sickly sweet sight.

you scoffed, unamused. “and why should i?” 

sophia chuckled, shaking her head as she pushed off where she’d been leaning on the pillar and made her way to you, footsteps light. 

you halted your practice, wiping your chin dry of sweat that ran down your cheek. “you forget yourself, y/n.”

“you forget your princess.” 

then, without explanation, she extended her hand out to you, palm tilted slightly upward, waiting. you stared at it blankly, caught off guard by the sudden movement. 

your eyes flicked between her hand and her face, trying to piece together what on earth she was doing. “what are you—”

“kiss the back of my hand, you idiot. gentlemen do it all the time as a greeting.” she wiggled her fingers impatiently, eyes squinting at you with a barely concealed amusement. 

“guess we can’t say the same for you.”

you groaned but took her hand anyway, your fingers rough and calloused from years of hard work—one she’d closely watched—asharp contrast to her soft, perfumed skin. 

you brought it to your lips with a gentleness that surprised her, brushing them across the back of her hand with the kind of reverence usually reserved for sacred things, or those in higher rank than you are.

sophia’s breath caught, just for a second.

she hadn’t expected that.

she’d thought she could handle it. it was just a joke, a moment of teasing. she didn’t except you to actually go through with it.

her etiquette teacher had done it to demonstrate, and sophia hadn’t blinked then—possibly because she was a fossil—. but this? this was you, and her heart had the audacity to trip at the way your lips touched her skin.

“i’m not a man,” you muttered, your voice low and even, but your grip on her hand stayed careful, firm. you paused, then added softly, “i’m a woman.”

it shouldn’t have made her stomach flip. but it did.

her cheeks flushed, heat crawling up her neck as she yanked her hand back, clearing her throat. “well. clearly.”

you shot her an ‘are you kidding?’ stare, sighing softly at her interrupting your practice once again. a daily occurrence that you should’ve been used to by now. 

“so, where are we going?”

sophia spun around before you could read her expression too closely. “the gardens,” she said over her shoulder, pretending like her face wasn’t on fire. 

“and the lake. i’m tired of breathing in dust and listening to lady maribelle complain about my posture.”

you trailed behind her as she walked ahead, arms swinging with a freedom that had you quietly smiling to yourself.

the gardens were nearly empty by the time you and sophia reached them, the sky shifting into shades of orange and yellow as the sun began to dip behind the castle walls. the breeze smelled faintly of roses and lavender.

but sophia didn’t stop to admire them—she’d seen them way too many times to gag over them. she kept walking ahead, skirts gathered in her fists, guiding you down the stone path that led behind the hedges and past the willow trees, straight toward the lake.

“...we’re not just going to look at the water, are we?” you asked warily, already eyeing the small wooden boats bobbing at the dock.

sophia glanced over her shoulder, her grin suspiciously wide, eyes crinkled into crescents. “nope.”

“please tell me you’re not expecting me to—”

“get in the boat,” she sang sweetly, already stepping onto the dock and reaching for the nearest one painted gold.

you didn’t move. “sophia, i’ve been training all day.”

“and this is me rewarding you.” she turned and held out her hand again—not to be kissed this time, but to tug you forward. “you can row me around like a charming little gondolier.”

you sighed, staring at her like she’d grown two heads. “i hate you.”

“and yet, here you are.” she tilted her chin with mock arrogance, eyes glinting.

you groaned under your breath but followed her anyway, climbing awkwardly into the boat while she settled into the seat like it was the throne/, fingers trailing through the water. you grabbed the oars begrudgingly, shooting her a tired glare that only made her giggle.

fuck.

“you know,” she said after a few minutes of quiet rowing, “you’ve got a nice rhythm. maybe you were a sailor in another life.”

you raised an eyebrow. intrigued. “a sailor?”

“mhm. gruff voice. tragic, tragic past. always looking at the horizon like you’ve got unimaginable memories out at sea.”

you snorted. “you’ve clearly read too many romance novels. now i know why you spend too much time in the library with your nose buried in a book.”

she leaned back in the seat, eyes closing for a moment as the breeze sifted through her hair. “and you clearly don’t row me fast enough.”

you splashed her with one oar, just enough to make her yelp and sit upright, eyes wide.

“y/n!”

“oops.”

sophia narrowed her eyes but was still smiling, wiping her now-damp sleeve with playful offense. “you’ll pay for that.”

“good luck,” you muttered, rowing a little faster, trying to ignore the way your heart kept doing jumping jacks at how pretty she looked when she was mock pouting, sunsett dusting her skin like gold, water around her glowing.

you told yourself it was just exhaustion. 

definitely not the way she kept watching you with that quiet amusement, like she could see right through you. like she always had.

—---

the solar room hadn’t changed at all. the same velvet cushions. the same lace-curtained windows. the same faint scent of lavender and rosewater that clung to the cushions, the walls, even the thread in sophia’s embroidery hoop. 

the only real difference was the tapestry she was working on—no longer clumsy or full of crooked stitches, but neat, straight.

and her mother, of course, still sat across from her, spine perfectly straight, pale blue gown immaculately laid around her, with her embroidery in hand and a glint in her eye that made sophia immediately suspicious.

“dearest, your actual debut’s around the corner now,” queen laforteza said, voice lilting and casual. too casual, she’d dare say.

sophia didn’t even look up from her stitching, words tugging at a memory she hadn’t planned on revisiting. 

suddenly, she was seventeen again, hands clumsy, posture slouched, hiding behind a half-finished crest while her mother teased her about first dances and suitors.

the memory irked her slightly. especially because nothing had changed, and yet everything had. if that made sense.

“have you picked out who’ll be your first dance now?” the queen added, sipping her tea like she didn’t already have a shortlist of eager young noblemen memorised from months ago as she requested for names of those interested.

sophia hummed, tying a knot in her thread with practiced ease. “i’ll just have basil as my first dance.”

that got her mother’s attention. the queen blinked, lowering her teacup mid-sip. “wait, but your brother—”

“i’ve already talked about it to him,” sophia said calmly. “he said he was fine with it. didn’t feel comfortable enough to have someone else dance me instead. i could’ve ask father to do it too, but i fear he’s already got too much on his plate. with the new knight recruits and all.”

her mother didn’t respond right away, which was rare. she simply studied sophia for a moment, as if trying to uncover whether her daughter was being genuine—or evasive.

“sweets,” she said after a beat, “are you sure you don’t want to pick a noble to be your first dance instead? i heard marquess barretto’s son leon, is interested.”

sophia groanef immediately, slumping slightly despite her attempt to stay firm. “mother, leon barretto wears more perfume than i do and nearly tripped on my gown last week trying to kiss my hand. i’d rather drown in the lake.”

her mother pressed her lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. “he’s not that bad.”

“he’s that bad,” sophia deadpanned, finally setting her embroidery hoop down in her lap. 

“besides, it’s not like the first dance has to be romantic. it’s ceremonial. traditional. it doesn’t mean anything.”

“it used to,” her mother said gently.

what she didn’t say was that the idea of dancing with a stranger made her skin crawl. that the thought of twirling in a room full of watching eyes, arm in arm with someone she barely knew, made her chest tighten.

and maybe there was someone else she’d rather offer her hand to. someone who stood steady in the moonlight and made her laugh when she wasn’t supposed to. 

someone whose hands were rough and real and held hers like they were afraid to hurt her, like she was the most fragile thing in the whole world.

she found herself unable to articulate it into words again with her mother in the room. 

her mother watched her quietly for a long moment, then gave a soft sigh and returned to her embroidery. “well,” the queen murmured, “if basil steps on your toes, don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

sophia cracked a small, lopsided smile. “he won’t. and if he does, i’ll blame it on the wind.”

–

the golden sun hadn’t even finished crawling its way over the castle walls when you were dragged—half-asleep and wholly unwilling—up and off the bed to stand barefeet in your chamber, marble flooring cold against your feet.

you hated breaks in your training. hated breaks in general. hated stillness. they made you feel like a blade left out in the rain, dulled and useless. 

but as the king’s guard’s commander’s daughter, and more importantly, as the personal guard to the princess herself, you were expected to be rid of all training and any hard work the day before the debut of the king’s only daughter. 

so, instead of sparring or drilling or doing literally anything useful, you were subjected to a full day of tailoring that commenced at the break of dawn. stupid, stupid, tradition.

the fabric was heavy and foreign on your skin. the uniform was modeled after your father’s—same deep navy blue tones, same sharp gold embroidery stitched along the lapel and hem—but unlike his, yours bore no jewels, no medals, no markers of great achievement. 

it was a blank canvas, clean and awaiting, quiet proof that your legacy had not yet begun.

it’ll have one, one day. i’ll make sure of it.

now, hours later, you were only half in it. your jacket draped halfway up your shoulders, the sleeves rolled awkwardly around your arm as you stood at the edge of the training grounds, watching the new recruits go through their drills.

 it should’ve been you out there. every muscle in your body ached to move, to sweat, to strike.

“that’s what you’re gonna wear for the princess’s debut?” yunjin called out, amusement thick in her voice as she twirled her practice sword lazily.

 “wow, so fancy, y/n. unlike you, we have to stay in these heavy, uncomfortable pieces of metal.”

keeho laughed behind her, clutching his stomach in mock agony. “how’s a man supposed to pick a woman up in this?” 

he groaned, dragging a hand through his sweat-matted hair and down his face. “at this rate, you’ll sweep every single woman in the vicinity.”

you scowled, arms crossed over your half-dressed chestplate. “you’re there to support and show your loyalty to the kingdom. that armour is there to protect you in case something happens. you’re not there to pick up women, keeho.”

he gasped, utterly affronted. “god, you sound like my mother. geez.”

“maybe she’s smarter than you,” you muttered, and yunjin barked out a laugh.

truth be told, the uniform felt strange. it fit, sure, it had been measured to the bone, trimmed and cinched and hemmed perfectly to your body, but it wasn’t you. 

it felt like wearing someone else’s skin. someone softer. someone still figuring out who she was underneath the polished buttons and polished roles, made to perfection as overlooked by your father.

tomorrow, you wouldn’t be in the shadows like you always were. not with sophia standing in the middle of the grand ballroom, not with every noble eye on her, and by extension, on you.

you didn’t mind being her sword. her shield. her quiet. but you just weren’t sure how to be seen. 

still, as you watched your friends spar, the laughter between them easy and real, your hand tightened slightly on the edge of your sleeve. you could do this. you would.

because tomorrow wasn’t about you. it was about her. your princess. sophia. the same one who’d slowly chipped at your walls ever since she barged into your life all sunshine and rainbows.

and you’d wear this damn thing like it was yours. because sophia deserved someone who could stand beside her without cowering beneath the pressure of legacy. even if your uniform didn’t carry medals, your loyalty didn’t need stitching or .

—--

this was it.

the music slowed to a hush as the double doors opened, and all conversation stilled. heads turned, gowns rustled, fans fluttered shut. the grand ballroom, lit by towering chandeliers and flooded with golden candlelight, held its breath.

at the top of the staircase stood sophia.

she descended like something out of a painting—dressed in a gown that shimmered faintly with every step, the soft blue silk catching the light like moonlit water. 

her hair was pinned with delicate gold leaves, and her gloves, the palest cream, trembled just slightly as she reached the last few steps.

you were already there, waiting.

my god, of course you were.

you stood at the foot of the stairs, back straight, gloved hands behind your back until you extended one forward for her. 

your uniform, tailored and formal, fit you like a second skin, and though the medals were missing, your presence felt like its own badge of honour. sophia’s eyes found yours immediately, her expression unreadable but drawn—always drawn—to you.

a faint smile appears in her lips at the notice of your uniform matching hers.

she slipped her hand into yours.

gloved hand in gloved hand, you escorted her across the ballroom floor, past suitors and murmured gasps. your steps were steady. hers were lighter now, as if walking beside you was enough to melt the nerves off her spine.

you led her to her brother—basil, dutiful and already stepping forward with an awkward smile. sophia hesitated, only slightly, before she turned to you once more, her voice low. 

for you and for your ears only.

“wait for me?”

you gave her a nod. “always.”

then she turned, and basil offered his hand. the music swelled, and sophia began her first dance under the eyes of the kingdom.

—-

time passed. champagne flutes clinked, music floated high into the domed ceilings, and laughter curled around crystal chandeliers. 

you had tried, god you had tried, to disappear into the crowd after your brief appearance at her side, but your father had other plans. like always.

“you will socialise, y/n,” he’d said, placing an annoyingly firm hand on your shoulder before nudging you toward a young noblewoman who looked just as uninterested in the conversation as you were. 

he wanted you to make a name for yourself.

gabriela, she introduced herself. from some lord’s house you didn’t care to remember. sharp eyes, sweet but cunning smile. she was fine. too curious, maybe. too flirty.

you were halfway through a polite excuse when the music shifted again, and she reached for your hand.

and somehow, you let her.

you weren’t thinking. you were tired. you were overwhelmed. and the thought of getting yelled at again by your father had already made your shoulders tense. so, you danced. you gave in.

your first dance, ever. not with the person you'd wanted, not with the person you’d imagined, but still, a dance.

across the ballroom, sophia had just finished her second spin in the arms of her youngest brother, oreo, whose too small tux kept making her laugh between steps. 

she ruffled his hair after the last note and watched him scamper back to where the rest of the royal family was seated, cheeks flushed with pride.

then her smile fell.

because there you were. dancing.

not standing off to the side. not waiting for her like you said you would. always, my ass. but dancing, with someone else.

gabriela laughed at something you said. sophia could only assume it wasn’t even that funny—god, you’re not even that funny—and your hands were still joined, her other palm resting on your shoulder.

sophia didn’t even wait for the song to end.

she marched straight toward the drink table, lips pressed into a thin line, her expression far too aloof to be casual.

manon, trailing behind with lara following suit, raised a brow. “that was quick.”

“i need a drink,” sophia muttered.

“you just had a drink,” lara said, nursing a half-finished flute of champagne in one hand.

“i need a stronger drink,” she said, already eyeing manon. manon caught the implication.

she didn’t bother saying a word. just reached into the inside of her embellished cape and handed her a hip flask with all the ceremony of a royal decree.

sophia didn’t even blink. unscrewed it. took a slow sip. let the burn bloom across her tongue and down like acid into her stomach.

lara watched her carefully. “everything alright, soph?”

 sophia lowered the flask, eyes sharp as they slid across the ballroom to where you and gabriela were still dancing.

“peachy,” she said flatly. 

hands off. she knew that this woman could have anyone else, nd god, why did she have to pick you of all people? fuck, she might end up begging if she doesn’t let go og you anytime soon.

manon didn’t bother asking. she knew. so she just handed her another sip. and the two of them shared a look.

—-

“you know, fifi’s fond of you. like, really, really fond of you.”

your head turns to watch oreo under the moonlight. you’d found the king’s youngest child in the balcony after seeking for coolness and peace after the dance with gabriela and the chaos of being surrounded by nobles desperately wishing for sophia’s hand in marriage or for just a mere dance—which props to her, she’s only danced with her brothers. 

the fact settles you.

“she shouldn’t be.” your reply garnered a laugh from the boy, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“but she is, though. it’s… unsettling, sometimes. makes me wonder if she’ll actually ever wind up finding a lord or something to date, because she spends too much time trying to, uh, what’s the word, have your friendship grow? i don’t know.. but you know, i just thought you’d want to know. ‘cause… yeah.”

you nodded, brows furrowing in thought as you leaned your elbows on the railing, lost as to why oreo, of all people, was telling you this. 

you’d barely talked to the boy before, and you’re more than sure that this is the first time you’d had a proper conversation—which just happened to be about sophia.

you weren’t surprised it was about her. not that you minded, anyway.

“i heard marquess barretto’s son might be a potential match.” you’d commented after a beat, and oreo hummed.

“yeah, i overheard them talking about it. don’t think fifi’s as fond of him as she is of you though.” he replies casually, like it wasn’t anything big of a deal.

the two of you stood outside for a few more moments in silence, comforted that you’d both reached an understanding and bridged a new friendship that was built upon the love and concern for sophia.

then he spoke. calm, slow, took his time. he wanted it to linger, that much you knew. every word enunciated firmly, yet heavily blanketed with warmth.

“i hope it’s you.”

—---

the ballroom had grown louder. brighter. unbearably warmer.

and somewhere between her second drink from manon’s flask and the half-glass of wine she’d sipped too quickly after, sophia lost sight of you again. she was a lightweight, surprisingly (not) enough.

the music spun and so did the chandelier, her steps a little less poised now as she slipped through groups of nobles, skirts brushing against her gown, their laughter buzzing like gnats in her ears.

her mind was foggy. her throat was dry. her eyes eere hazy. her head was a mix of bass, violin, and the sharp reminder of of your betrayal—irrational and sticky, crawling beneath her skin like fire. burning hotter than the liquor that ran down her throat.

you had danced with someone else.

her stomach twisted every time she thought of it. the way your hand had rested so easily on gabriela’s waist. the way you let her smile at you. like it was nothing. like it didn’t mean anything.

how dare you. 

how dare you dance with someone else that wasn’t her. it was her debut. her ball you were supposed to keep your eyes on her and her only. dance with her and her only. god, why didn’t you? you didn’t keep your promise.

you didn’t keep your promise.

her heel caught on the edge of someone’s coat and she stumbled forward with a sharp breath, hands out instinctively to grab onto something—and then—

“whoa—sophia—”

you caught her before she hit the floor, arms wrapping around her waist without hesitation. her gloved fingers curled into the front of your uniform, clinging, her cheek resting against your chest.

“you’re drunk,” you muttered under your breath, keeping it together like her close proximity didn’t do things to you. 

“am not,” she mumbled into your jacket, and then, louder, “you danced with someone else.”

you stiffened. “sophia—”

“you did,” she huffed, pulling back just enough to glare up at you. her eyes were glassy, but sharp with frustration. 

“i saw you. with that girl—gabby? gab—gabriela—manon told me.”

you hushed her immediately, grabbing her by the shoulders and casting a quick glance around. you’d already caught one or two nobles side-eyeing the princess in your arms, and the last thing anyone needed was this being tomorrow’s headline in the newspapers. 

no, your dad would kill you. the king would behead you. (you’re dramatic. but it’s a possibility.)

“we’re going,” you said, low and urgent, slipping an arm around her waist as she swayed again. “you’re done. come on.”

“don’t wanna go,” sophia slurred stubbornly, stumbling as you started to guide her through the crowd. “s’my party.”

“you can barely stand.”

“still mad.”

“don’t care.”

you maneuvered quickly, expertly, keeping your head down, fingers steady around her arm as you led her past the sweeping golden drapes and into one of the side corridors. 

the music dulled behind the ballroom doors. the cool air of the hall washed over you like waves, blessedly quiet.

sophia groaned dramatically as you pushed open the door to one of the unused sitting rooms. she sagged against you, like every ounce of tension had finally slipped from her bones the moment the door clicked shut behind you.

you helped her to the couch, kneeling in front of her to unclip her shoes as she flopped backwards, arms flung over the edge like a drowned, tragic poet. her tiara tilted sideways.

“you looked pretty,” she murmured suddenly into the quiet. “still look pretty.”

you froze. you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “…what?”

“in your uniform,” she mumbled, cheeks flushed from more than just the wine. her lashes fluttered. she wasn’t even aware she was saying this.

“made it hard to breathe, ‘cause you—” she made a vague gesture toward your body, eyes half-lidded as she watched you with softness. “just stood there with your jaw and your shoulders—and then you had to go and dance with someone who wasn’t me—”

you closed your eyes, took a slow, steady and calculated breath.

“i wasn’t thinking,” she continued, voice growing softer, more fragile around the edges, eroding like your walls around her. 

“and now i’m thinking too much and my head’s spinning and i hate that i care. i hate it. i hate it so much.”

you looked up at her.

and for a moment—just a moment—sophia laforteza didn’t look like a princess. she looked like a girl with a heart too full, slumped sideways in a chair that didn’t belong to her, whispering confessions she’d never dare say sober.

fuck.

“you need water,” you said finally, inhaling sharply.

“no. what i need,” she said, eyes fluttering closed again, “is for you to never dance with anyone else ever again.”

you blinked. your mouth opened. then closed.

“and, to kiss me.”

“what—”

too fast for how drunk she was, she grabbed  a fistful of your collar with ashaky, determined hand and pulled you down into her.

her lips crashed into yours—messy, heated, desperate. she kissed you like she was trying to memorise something with the urgency of someone afraid of forgetting. like she’d waited too long and couldn’t hold it in anymore. and for a second,

you kissed back. you actually kissed back.

because she was soft and flushed and trembling (scared you’ll push her off), and it was her. the girl who haunted your thoughts during drills. the girl who laughed like the world was hers, and somehow made you feel like it could be yours too.

that she could be yours.

but your hand caught her wrist gently, and you pulled away, breath uneven, your forehead resting against hers as she blinked in a daze.

she looked up at you then, hazy eyes widening, horror flickering across her expression like a crack in the sky. her lips parted, like she was about to say something—apologise, maybe, or backpedal into silence.

“hey,” you whispered, still close enough to feel the heat of her skin. “tell me who i am.”

she blinked, confused. “what?”

“tell me who i am, sophia. just…say it.”

she blinked once, then her brows furrowed with focus, her hand still twisted in your collar.

“y/n,” she said softly. “you’re… y/n. you’re my knight.”

“and your name is?”

she swallowed. “my name is princess sophia elizabeth guevara laforteza, 122th heir to the throne after my brother.”

and that was all you needed.

you exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “okay,” you mumbled, almost to yourself, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. 

“okay… you understand. you’re not fully drunk yet.”

“yeah, no crap i am. what are you doing?” she asked breathlessly, voice low, still dazed.

you stepped back, gently but firmly, slipping her hand from your shirt and keeping your voice as steady as you could manage.

“we shouldn’t be doing this here,” you said. “someone could see.”

she didn’t argue. she didn’t tease. just nodded once, slow and sure, trusting you the same way she always had.

you led her out of the quiet room with a careful hand on her back, her weight leaning slightly against your side, every step quick and quiet as you took the back corridors—the ones only you and the guards knew—until you reached her bedchamber.

the door closed softly behind you. the room smelled like garden roses and her. 

you helped her out of her gown without a word, careful, respectful. she helped you out of your uniform, clumsy fingers and sleepy sighs. neither of you spoke of what it meant and what it stood for next.

she curled into your side not long after, head pressed against your shoulder, bare legs tangled under silk sheets, devotion silent in the night.

—-

basil approached you the next day. you knew what he was there for before he could ask you. like oreo, you and him had a different kind of understanding. quiet and aloof, but close acquaintances. 

he’d told you about his distaste for becoming the king, and how he’d pass the throne onto sophia the moment he’d been deemed worthy enough to lead his own royal guard. 

“sophia disappeared sometime yesterday night in the party. were you with her?” always quick to the point, basil was. he never liked a chase.

you respected that about him.

you nodded curtly. you knew better than to lie. you watched him take note of the faint, dark purple mark on your neck, tucked away beneath the collar of your tunic. the corner of his lips curled up a fraction.

“i was with her, yes.”

“in more ways than one, i presume.”

your lips pressed into a thin line, throat bobbing. he chuckles softly. “it’s fine, y/n. ease up. i’m glad it was you, and not one of those snobby lords.”

a scoff was pulled from your throat, though it was more of an amused sound. “your sister knows better than that. she’s a woman that knows what she wants.”

“what she wants and what she gets.” he commented, and you nodded.

a beat passed. neither of you spoke. you both watch the movements of the knights-in-training. watched a younger knight fumble his footwork while yunjin shouted at him, keeho cackling in the background.

you don’t feel guilty about being interrupted.

then basil shifted beside you, voice softer. “i trust you wouldn’t break her heart.”

your brows furrowed, the thought that he’d even think that was insulting and offensive to everything you stood for. for the kingdom.  for oath. for her. 

you shot him a glance that morphed into a glare. “if anything, it’d be her that’ll be breaking my heart. she hasn’t said a word to me since we woke up this morning.”

his gaze followed yours and caught sight of sophia.

she was approaching the training grounds, walking with purpose, blue day dress trailing slightly behind her, sunlight wrapping itself around her like she were a daughter of the sun, glowing, radiant.

she didn’t belong anywhere near the battlefield. if anything, she looked like she belonged to you.

basil gave a low whistle, already stepping back. “then i guess i’ll leave you to it.” he gave your shoulder a brief, meaningful squeeze. “good luck.”

you swallowed, throat tight, and turned just as she stepped in front of you, her hands clasped neatly in front of her.

you opened your mouth, not knowing what to say—only for her to speak first.

“can we talk?”

you nodded wordlessly, following her as she led you away from the noise, around the stone corridor that wrapped behind the courtyard, until it was just the two of you. 

quiet, save for the faint echo of swords meeting shields in the background.

she turned to you slowly, nervous, but determined nonetheless. “you thought i wouldn’t remember.”

to be frank, you hadn’t expected her to come. not after how quickly she’d disappeared that morning. not after she couldn’t even look at you when she slipped out of bed.

you looked away. “you were drunk.”

“not drunk enough,” she said. “i remember all of it. i remember everything.”

you stayed silent.

“you looked like you thought it was a mistake,” you finally said, voice low. “and it’s fine, sophia. it was a mistake. a lapse in my judgement, and i shouldn’t have let it happen or initiated anything.

her brows furrowed, eyes darkening. not with anger, but something deeper. hurt.

“it wasn’t,” she said. “not for me.”

your breath hitched. she stepped closer, her voice quieter now, the words meant for your ears only.

“i tried so hard to remember everything, y/n. not because i was scared i did something wrong. but because i wanted to remember it. all of it. i was scared of forgetting the feeling of your warmth against mine, scared to forget how it felt like i truly did belong somewhere with someone.”

her hand hovered, brushed your sleeve. she gulped, eyes looking up at you with silent begging, desperation. she needed to hear you reciprocate the feelings that had been gnawing at her since your first meeting.

“i love you, y/n.”

she can’t be the only one who felt it. and she was right.

“i love you more, sophia. ever since that night in the courtyard, where you fucked around teasing me about echolocation,” she laughed softly at the mention, “i’ve loved you ever since.”

your hand moved, 

she leaned into your touch like she’d been waiting for it all her life—like your palm on her cheek was a missing piece she hadn’t known she was missing until it fit just right.

“say it again,” she whispered, barely audible. her lashes fluttered, her eyes on your lips.

you didn’t hesitate. “i love you.”

sophia smiled. soft, genuine. the kind of smile that stripped her of title, crown, and duty. just sophia. just yours.

then she surged forward, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that felt like a promise kept. it was slower than last night. no desperation, no effects of wine. just certainty. it was clear and steady and warm, it was everything sophia is.

when she pulled away, your hand still holding her face like she might vanish, she exhaled shakily. “i thought you hated me this morning.”

“i thought you regretted it,” you said, your voice rough with emotion you barely understood how to carry.

“never,” she replied, and it was immediate. “i regret not doing it sooner.”

you let out a breath of disbelief, a soft laugh that cracked at the edges. “you’re a freak.”

“you love me for it.”

“unfortunately.”

she grinned and bumped your shoulder with hers, fingers drifting down to take your hand in hers, entwining them easily like it was something as natural as breathing.

you decide that honour and loyalty aren’t the reason to fight for the kingdom anymore. sophia is now everything you stood for.

—-

you were both twenty when the first declaration of war from a neighboring empire had been announced. it was everywhere. in the newspapers, down to the leaflets and the frantic whispers threading through the markets and corridors of the kingdom. the empire of eyekonia hath declared war.

it struck like lightning. swift, absolute, and deafening. the court held emergency councils. generals moved like shadows through the halls. flags were lowered, then raised again under tighter command. the world sophia knew shifted beneath her feet.

she didn’t care about strategy or supply lines or how many allies the crown could still call on.

all she could think about was you.

sophia had found you in the eastern wing, halfway through your patrol, and without a word, she grabbed the back of your tunic, dragging you quietly, urgently, through the stone halls, past startled servants and guards who knew better than to speak up. 

she didn’t stop until she found an unused meeting room, where the shutters were drawn and the heavy oak door groaned under the force she slammed it with. you stumbled inside after her, confused, the back of your shirt still wrinkled where her fingers had clutched it tight.

it had been a year since you both started seeing each other in secret. a year since that fated night that linked you together for an eternity, a year since she’d relished in the comfort of your presence. 

she didn’t say anything at first. just paced the room, fingers trembling ever so slightly, her breath coming in uneven bursts. and when she finally turned to look at you, her eyes burned—not with fury, but with something far worse: desperation.

“you’re not fighting the front lines, are you?”

you blinked. the question caught you off guard. truly. but then the weight of it crashed into you like a tidal wave. the news, the fear, the look in her eyes.

you stepped forward slowly, shaking your head. “no. my duty lies with protecting you.”

her body deflated in an instant, all the tension draining from her shoulders like a storm finally passing. she crossed the room in two quick strides, arms wrapping around your waist like she could shield you from the news of the war and the war itself.

she could stay like this forever.

“thank god,” she whispered into your chest. “i thought—”

“i know.” you murmured, pressing your lips against her hair.

you didn’t tell her how your father had been summoned to the war room before sunrise. how he’d returned with a rare look of relief in his eyes, saying that the king had other plans. that you, your father, and basil—who finally got his wish of his own royal knights and got the approval of the king to step down from becoming king—were to remain behind, at the palace.

“the frontline is no place for heirs or shields,” the king had said. “the royal family must be guarded. my blood must be protected. and sophia… she will need people she trusts.”

you had bowed. not for the kingdom. not even for the king. but because of her.

“i’m not going anywhere.” you’d whispered, feeling her arms tighten around you and nuzzling further into your neck like she’s trying to mold you both into one, warm breath fanning against your skin gently, grounding you. “i’m not going anywhere.”

“promise?”

“promise.”

—-

you were both twenty-two years of age—two years into the war with the empire of eyekonia, and the kingdom was bleeding. losing men like they were mere numbers on a scale, names carved into stone more often than into medals. they were dropping like flies on foreign soil, dying for oaths that no longer felt like promises, but debts too heavy to repay.

and you—ever composed, ever sharp—you were unraveling. slowly. quietly. like silk being pulled from the hem.

your restless nights didn’t go unnoticed. not to sophia.

she noticed the determination and focus in your eyes whenever you’d all meet up in the great hall to talk strategies for the way, the way your leg bounced up and down in an agitated tic,  barely perceptible beneath your uniform—too subtle for those who’d merely glance your way. but not sophia.

never sophia.

she’d prided herself with knowing you better than yourself. the rhythm of your breaths. the slight dip in your voice when you were trying to keep emotion at bay. 

the way you bit the inside of your cheek—not out of anxiety, but out of restraint—whenever someone proposed a strategy that would cost more lives than it should, before promptly leaning forward in your seat and shaking your head because the men aren’t just casualties that racked up numbers. 

and then you’d lean forward in your seat, voice calm but firm, always with that same line: "there has to be another way."

because to you, the men weren’t pawns.

they were names. faces. boys you’d trained with. soldiers who greeted you in the early hours, who held open doors and passed messages and laughed at keeho and yunjin’s bad jokes. men who had families, stories, dreams. they were men who you’d seen each day, given empowering speeches to and playfully cheering after. 

they were your men as much as they are hers and the kingdom’s.

and sophia—she would watch you from across the room, something tender and painful blooming in her chest. because she knew what it cost you to care this much. and she loved you all the more for it.

noticed the way you’d softened through the years, the way you’d let yourself feel and show more feelings, instead of casting them away in a bottle and hiding it under a chest you won’t ever open, leaving the lock for generations and generations to look for.

noticed the way you’d been treading carefully around the idea of joining the front lines, not wanting to sit back and watch as the kingdom fell apart around you that could potentially risk the royal family’s life. sophia’s life. 

noticed the way you steeled yourself whenever numbers of lives lost were brought back to you at the end of the way, and sophia could feel her resolve that hung by a thread shaking, because she just cannot afford to have you, the person she’d lost nights to, rolling in bed and giggling like a teenager in love. 

you, the person who used to be too scared to sleep in the same bed as her given the fact that you’d already slept together before, all unusually meek and unsure of your actions when you’d always been so sure of yourself. 

you, who she was sure she’d spend the rest of her life with, have a family, grow old together and die beside each other. you who she wanted to marry.

and you, who she cannot afford to be a mere statistic of the kingdom’s casualties in a war she didn’t want. a victim to her father’s ambitious plans.

she feels sick.

she cannot fathom the thought of you out there, all alone while you stood in foreign soil soaked with the kingdom’s blood, away from the castle walls where she could keep you safe, away from her, away from the promise of forever. of a life with her.

she knew you were trained for this. it was a huge factor as to how you’d reached the levels and earned your place in the kingdom—and more importantly, a seat in the great hall where the king and queen, their oldest son, close advisers and commanders, and her, the heir, all gathered. you got there not because your father is one of the king’s trusted advisor, but because you worked for it.

she couldn’t look at you properly that night. couldn’t even face you in the bed as you both laid next to each other, eyes wide open and sleep not planning on visiting your eyelids soon. a lump formed in her throat and her limbs moved before she knew it, propping herself up on her elbows to sit up on the bed, back flushed to the headboard. 

she watched you do the same. watched as you silently sat up next to her, adjusted the covers on top of her to make sure she’s hidden away from the cold. the action oddly spikes annoyance in her.

because how dare you. how dare you have thoughts of leaving the kingdom. leaving her behind to walk men to their demise because of her father’s foolish, ambitious plans that had dragged everyone into its whirlwind? how dare you have those thoughts and not tell her? how dare you ingrain the image of her waking up to an empty side of your bed, of leaving without telling her, just to hear word of your passing in her mind?

how dare you assume she doesn’t know you well enough not to notice.

“will you ever marry me?” 

the question lands flat. your lips parted in a moment of surprise, eyes widening slightly at how blunt she’d been. she looks tired of everything, and rightfully so. she’d been tired of the war, of the stench of male ego to strike up a treaty to stop the killing, and even so of the unnamed and unfinished promise of forever with you.

she doesn’t know how much longer she has you before you tell her you want to go to war.

her eyes tear up, hot tears rolling down her cheeks as you stayed silent, fingers twitching but not reaching out. just watching. just watching as the fabric of her nightgown dampened and grew darker in colour as tears fell. 

she hates how she leans in almost immediately at your touch on her cheek, pressing her face in your palm and god, she’d never been this vulnerable before. she gets why you hate it.

“of course i will.”

“but will you, though? because at this rate, i’m scared that i’ll keep waiting and waiting and waiting for you, and i will, because i love you—and i cherish you more than anything in this world—and that there’ll be a time that’ll come where you won’t—you won’t even be here, because i see it in your eyes. i see how much you want to fight the empire, even if right now, it seems like a lost cause. i see how much you look like you’re ready to choose the kingdom over me and i’m scared because i know that once you put your mind to it, that you will. and i’m scared because i know you have the capability to. and most of all, i’m scared that one day, i’ll wake up and you’re not even going to be here anymore. that you won’t be here to hug me when you know i need it without telling you to, to listen to me ramble on and on about something unnecessary, that you won’t be here when i need you the most. and i’m going to be stuck here, because god knows i cannot and will never find another to love. because you’d carved yourself into every. single. piece. of me. and i’ll never forget you. i don’t ever want to forget you.”

you don’t know when it started. sophia was too busy pouring her heart out to take notice, too, when you started pouring your eyes out. it hadn’t dawned on you, until now, that she’d always be waiting for you to come home, wherever you go, whatever you do. the realisation makes your heart weep.

you grasp her hands, tears streaming down your face just as much as the ones rolling down her flushed cheeks, hot to touch, and kiss her empty ring finger. 

“i promise to you, that when the war ends and we can breathe easily and freely again, that i will marry you. this is my oath to you, my heart, that i will make you my wife the moment i can, and we shall live the rest of our lives together. maybe build a family, even turn the garden much bigger as you wish. we’ll have the rest of our lives to figure out what we’ll do together.”

and sophia finally feels like she could breathe. 

—

you were both twenty-three when things had looked even more grim than before, and twenty-four when you decided that there was no better time than now to enter the battlefield, four years after the war had been declared. 

sophia sat stiffly. you both knew this day would come. it was just a matter of if or when, and you’d picked the day a week before your twenty-fifth birthday. sophia had wanted to spend time with you on your birthday, do as best she could while the kingdom slowly crumbled into shambles, try and focus on something else that wasn’t stained with blood.

but now here you are, dropping the decision on her lap like it wasn’t anything heavy. like you didn’t just tell her that you’ll be off to the thorny battlefield that swam with dead bodies. 

would she really ever have the chance to marry you? to slip the ring in your finger and for you to slip the ring in hers, branding you to have a lifetime of love ahead of you? would she ever see you grow old beside her, all wrinkles and gray hairs, and a tired yet content smile on your lips as you watched your grandchildren—if you somehow manage to have children—run around the garden, otherwise, you’ll be watching either basil or oreo’s grandchildren.

she doesn’t know what was worse, not spending a lifetime with you, or you wrapped in death’s embrace somewhere in a place she couldn’t reach.

she decides its both. because it doesn’t give her you, either way.

SOPHIA’S POV.

you tell me you’re leaving like it’s a simple thing, like the ground won’t open up beneath me the second you’re gone.

i don’t cry anymore. i just sit there, watching you, memorizing every detail—the slope of your shoulders, the way your fingers curl restlessly against your knee, like maybe some part of you is afraid too.

“don’t look at me like that,” you whispered.

but how else am i supposed to look at you? how else am i supposed to let you go?

when you’re gone, the earth will have you. it will hold you tighter than i ever could, wrap you up in its quiet, endless embrace. and i will be left here, hollow, staring at the ground beneath my feet and hating it for having what i lost.

if you must die, i'll envy even the earth that wraps your body.

—--

it had been a week since you’d left for the war. you’d already turned twenty-five.

 your father had struck up a deal with one of the advisors from the empire of eyekonia, and wished to send troops to seek if the empire will hold up their line of the bargain. and the king—after a lot of nagging and persistence on basil’s end—had begrudgingly allowed his eldest son to come with his troops on stand-by beside your own. 

keeho and yunjin looked uneasy and queasy on the way to the empire. the week had gone by quick, and thanks to your expertise and basil’s troops who had served as reinforcements, quickly wiped the enemy troops down, not a single knight sat on their horse unscathed or untouched by stains of blood. you yourself had suffered a deep gash wrapped tightly in bandage.

you stopped your horse just in front of the seemingly barren castle gates of the empire. it was daunting, the beheaded troops of your kingdom sat decomposing on pikes and up for display for everyone to see. you heard somebody retching behind you. basil rides his horse to stand beside yours.

“the sun is setting. we should set up camp near and leave this till the morning. i have a bad feeling about this.” you shook your head at his statement, wanting to get the whole thing done and over with, so you could go home to sophia and celebrate your twenty-fifth with her.

“no, stay here. i’ll go check it out.”

“absolutely not. i’ll come with you.” 

you stared at the eldest royal sibling with furrowed brows, and after coming into terms that he wouldn’t back down, you relented, sighing deeply and hopping off your horse, patting the animal and glancing at yunjin and keeho.

“keeho. come. basil, take four of your men. yunjin, i’ll leave you in charge of the rest, keep an eye out for anything and shout if something happens. we’ll go check what we’re dealing with.”

everything felt wrong. from the moment you, basil, keeho, and four of basil’s men stepped foot in the courtyard with the rest of the forces outside the wide open castle gates, everything felt damn still and wrong.

there were no guards who greeted you. no banners waved. the gates stood open like a mouth waiting to swallow. and the air—god, even the air was dead.

"stay close," you’d muttered, hand never straying from the hilt of your blade.

you didn’t like it. none of you did. but orders were orders. and your fathe had sworn the eyekonian emperor’s closest advisor was loyal to ending the four year long war. she had extended a rare, desperate olive branch: a treaty, drafted in secrecy and sealed with royal insignias.

she was supposed to meet you. and she did.

but when she appeared at the top of the stairs leading to the dining hall, something in your gut coiled. she was too poised. too calm. and her green, sharp eyes lingered on you just a little too long.

still, you followed her. you had no choice but to. for the kingdom and for sophia. through the dust-slick halls that seemed to have not had a single soul clean it since the start of time. through the grand entryway of the dining chamber where a feast had been laid but left untouched. like it was meant for someone else.

you could cut the tension in the air with your sword. basil’s fingers twitched. keeho’s jaw was locked. none of the other men spoke.

"the treaty?" she asked silkily, voice echoing around the stone chamber.

you reached into your coat, pulling the sealed scroll and stepping forward. “from king laforteza. a formal end to the war, by decree of both kingdoms.”

you extended it with care, but she didn’t reach for it.

instead, she smiled.

and in that smile, you saw everything unravel. too fast, too quick. 

too late.

a flash of sophia’s smile glinted behind your eyelids.

“poor child,” she said softly. “you should’ve stayed in your little castle with your little princess.”

before your sword could even clear its sheath, her hand shot forward, sharp and inhumanly fast—metal glinted under her sleeve—

and the blade plunged right through your chest plate.

you gasped as the steel cut through bone and heart and air, the force of it throwing you backwards as your knees buckled.

basil shouted. keeho moved.

the witch barely had time to twist the blade before basil was on her, fury igniting in his veins. he drove his sword through her neck, slicing with such force her body collapsed in a heap of blackened smoke. a whispered “long hail the eyekonian empire!” lingering in the air like a ghost.

you hit the floor hard, breath stuck in your throat, blood pooling beneath you, warmth draining fast from your limbs. you couldn’t breathe, the damage was far too severe for a quick movement, a rather large chasm where you heart laid and the surrounding areas.

coughing blood as it invaded your lungs, your blurry  eyes caught keeho hastily ripping the metal plate covering your chest while the other soldiers screamed for the troops outside to come in, feeling hands pressing to try and regulate the bleeding, even if it was a lost cause.

but the damage was too severe to resolve. blood dripped down your lips, splattering on basil’s chestplate and the kingdom's insignia. him and keeho had looked horrified, like it was hard to believe that you’re here, dying in front of their eyes when you were just fine a few moments earlier. that the years of your life spent in training had gone down the drain with a quick snap of a wrist.

sophia had appeared in your thoughts once more.

sophia, sophia, sophia.

sophia.

you wonder how she’ll react to your foolish decision of rushing things to get home to her. the lapse in your judgement and eagerness to leave costing you your life. she’d have scolded you if you’d lived. mumbling something along the lines of “almost losing my future wife.”

you wonder how she’ll cope. nights spent in utter silence, when usually you’d be there to fill it with soft murmurs of something dumb keeho or yunjin had done while training. you wonder if she could even stomach seeing your empty side of the bed that awaited your return, of the fact that you’d practically broken your promise of marrying her when the war ends. you wonder if she’ll even be able to forgive you.

you’ve broken her heart, her trust, your promise.

you wonder if she’ll marry. you know she won’t, but you wonder if she’ll even consider it. she won’t. you hope she won't.

you feel someone lift you up, eyes droopier by the second. you don’t know how long you’ll last, hanging on by a thread in hopes to have at least the littlest consciousness by the time you arrive at the kingdom. the ride home is at least four days, and you’ve been stabbed through the heart.

sophia, sophia, sophia.

the girl who you’d swore to protect, to stand by her side till the end of time. and in by doing so, you’ve protected her and the kingdom. but at what cost?

she was right. it’ll always be duty that you’ll pick.

—--

the troops arrived a few days later, just before the sun set.

the people gathered in hushed clusters near the gates, whispers trailing behind the guards who bore the burden of grief on their shoulders, despite the victory of the empire and the end of the five year war.

at the very front, a body lay still atop a wooden cart, draped in the laforteza colors—deep navy and silver, lined with the kingdom’s sigil. the cloth covered everything, but it did nothing to hide the shape beneath it. nothing to dull the cold finality of it.

sophia stood at the castle steps, hands clenched at her sides. she didn’t need anyone to speak. didn’t need the confirmation of names or reports or letters from the front.

she knew.

she knew the slope of those shoulders beneath the fabric. knew the way the blade of your nose had always cut sharp and proud, even in rest. she knew the stillness wasn’t sleep—it was silence. finality.

“no,” she whispered, barely audible.

“no.”

no one dared stop her when she stepped down the stairs. not even the guards dared look her in the eye.

she stopped at the cart, breath trembling, heart thudding violently against her ribs as if it could somehow drum you back to life.

“please,” she murmured, to no one and nothing. “please don’t do this.”

her hands lifted, shaking as she reached for the cloth.

and when she peeled it back—

her knees buckled.

a choked sound tore out of her throat. her hand flew to her mouth, as if she could stuff the scream back inside. you were pale. still. lips tinged blue. your armor had been cleaned, but the dent at your chest plate was still there. and your sword—your favorite—rested by your side like it belonged with you in death, too.

sophia dropped to her knees beside the cart, clutching the edge like it could hold her upright. she could hear basil somewhere behind her, voice low and broken as he tried to explain. but she wasn’t listening.

she was supposed to marry you.

you had promised.

and now, the war had taken what even time dared not touch. basil wrapped his arms around her from behind, trying to hold her upright as wails so painful and gut wrenching pierced through the air, your father freezing in place at the sight.

he’d unknowingly lead you to your demise.

you were newly twenty-five when you’d died, and sophia never married. never planned to if it wasn’t you, anyway. she kept sleeping on your side of the bed no matter how painful it was, kept the blood-stained letter found in your pocket framed on the bedside table as a remembrance. kept your sword as a remembrance. kept everything you had as a remembrance.

because she was starting to forget you as time passed. was starting to forget how you felt, how you smiled, how you moved, how you looked at her like she was worth dying for and did. she was starting to forget.

and she wanted to remember.

she wanted to remember everything, down till the last pulses of her heart weakly pumped blood and basil and oreo’s children had gathered around her bed to say goodbye, a privilege you never got to have. she wanted to remember everything down to her last breath, how warm your skin felt beneath her fingertips, memorising and mapping your skin like it was the last thing she’ll ever do.

she never married. until death, she waited for you. waited for ninety years, if it meant coming home to you. she ruled with the strength you left her, carried the weight of the crown like your blood hadn’t been spilled across the kingdom’s soil to make peace possible. 

she turned her pain into purpose, rebuilt a world you could’ve lived in—should’ve lived in—and still, every night, she slept facing your empty side of the bed. made it possible for the end and the start of something new. she died on your side of the bed, your letter addressed to her clutched to her heart. creased, worn, and faded.

“the queen walks beside her knight again.”

a/n. finished in time for beautiful chaos release🙂‍↕️ did not mean to write this long but oh well yall have to deal w this now. will fix thr layout of the pairing nd shit in the morning. this was NAWT proofread ts was long asl im highk not bothered to look for spelling mistakes nd shi💔🥀🥀🥀🥀 ts also took THREE gruelling months to finish🥀🥀🥀 its the reason why the mamma mia updates hv been locked in the basement