Since the first time they met–sparring in a ring, their swords matching one another blow for blow, the world disappearing around them as they fought– he has been her partner in a way, the only man unafraid of her crown and her sword.
He had been but her rival at first, at the receiving end of her famed wit, at the pointy end of her practise sword, at the other side of the room, on the other side of the palace walls.
But as they had grown, as the fire within them had steadied and burned strong, he had become her partner in other ways.
The Princess and her Knight Commander.
At her side in every battle, escorting her through every painful ball with a sly joke whispered in her ear, with a tentative compliment at the end of the night before he walks away, leaving her with a soft longing for something that makes her heart sigh.
But as she stands facing him now, caught in a hug goodbye that had not ended, lingering instead– her forehead pressed against his, his breath puffing against her cheek, her hand resting upon his chest– she wonders if perhaps they could not be more.
hey, so sometimes I have intrusive thoughts that are graphic images of things that really bother me, so I just want to say to the people also dealing with that rn: it’s okay! you’re not gross or bad. you’re thoughts are not you, and no one can read them. you’re okay. try to breathe deep. drink some water if you can. it’ll be okay