Taking A Brief Pause To Just Say My Heart Is With The People Of Ukraine Right Now, And I Wish All Of

Taking a brief pause to just say my heart is with the people of Ukraine right now, and I wish all of you well.

#same girls

TWILIGHT (2008) dir. Catherine Hardwicke

The Accidental Princess (Part 2)

Prince Kit x Reader

Summary: A contract has been found, after twenty years, bearing your name and Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter Summary: You get settled in the palace.

Word Count: 4.5k words

Warnings: period typical misogyny, none?

A/N: Hi, guys! I'm trying my best with the taglist so if you didn't get tagged, chances are there's something wrong with the way I did it or you're un-tag-able?? Anyway, I know there are a lot of inconsistencies with this piece of fanfic but let's all just enjoy this lol. The lemon juice ink works, though. You can give that a try. I love hearing all about your thoughts! Reviews, comments, suggestions (and reblogs) are most certainly welcome! Here is Part 2 of The Accidental Princess!

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

It was an unusual request that you asked for lemons with your writing materials but they delivered. You merely said that those were for you to bite on but truly, it was for you to write a message that only your father could decipher. He had taught you the magic of vanishing ink one night during a particularly dreary travel. He had told you that the true message written with lemon juice would only be revealed on top of an open flame. You had tried it once and you were impressed and now, it was your only means of communicating with him without the rest of the palace knowing. This stratagem had only been used for important missives and what else could be more important than for your father to know that you had been married to the prince for two decades and that you would be kept to the palace indefinitely.

You wrote carefully, telling him to keep the information to himself. You had no ambitions of being a princess and the irony of you being one—or being called an ambitious girl by the Grand Duke—was not lost on you. You kept your secret message short and concise, and you also told him no promises of future missives lest you be found out. Once you were finished with the lemon ink, you let it dry and took to writing the obvious message with ink. You scribbled in between the lines written with lemon juice your requests for your trunks, writing implements, and the many books you were supposed to be reading. The letter was short and direct and you sealed it with wax and a sprig of lavender, your unofficial insignia, so your father would immediately know that the message was from you.

When your letter had been sent, a maid arrived, bearing with her a dress for you to change into. She had been scandalized at seeing you in your undergarments, which you had assured her that they were not, and she took it upon herself to start a bath for you.

“What shall I call you, miss?” asked the maid as she scrubbed your shoulders with warm water and simple soap. You had told her that you were fine with bathing yourself but the surprise on her face made you realize that you had asked for the unusual. Of course, guests of the king were expected to be waited on hand and foot.

“Y/N, please,” you replied. “I’m all but noble so please, do not burden yourself with titles to call me. If you are uncomfortable with calling me by my name, you may continue calling me ‘miss.’”

“It is rare for the king to house a common guest, miss, if you don’t mind me saying.” said the girl.

You smiled to yourself. “I find my situation quite uncommon for a commoner like me.” You washed off the lather. “What may I call you?”

“Abigail, miss,” she replied.

You let out a little chuckle then apologized. “Oh, do forgive me, Abigail. I find your parents quite humorous for naming you such.”

Abigail chuckled as well, to your relief. “They are humorous people, miss. My brother Hunter, he is the palace gamekeeper.”

You chuckled. “Oh, dear me. Your futures are already made out for you at the day of your birth.”

“To work for the king and the kingdom is an honor, miss.”

You turned to your maid slowly, careful of the water that sloshed on the side of the tub. “I haven’t been in the kingdom for quite some time, Abigail. Would you mind telling me what has happened in the last years?”

The maid looked at you uncomfortably. You touched the hand nearest to you and smiled. “I promise I shall not tell a soul of the things you wish to tell me. I am merely curious. If I am to be housed here for a while, I would like to be knowledgeable of what has transpired within these walls.”

Abigail looked around your room, you did as well, before nodding. “The Queen Amalie has died.”

Oh. You had not known that. When she was not present at the throne room earlier the day, you only thought she must have been busy with some other affairs. It did not cross your mind that the beautiful and benevolent queen had passed on.

Poor king. Poor Kit.

“What has happened to her?” you asked.

“She had taken ill one morning in the summer and passed on the day after. The king and the prince were devastated. The whole kingdom as well.”

“When was this?” You settled back on your tub.

“Just the year before,” Abigail started washing your hair. “Since then, the king had been in poor health. He is worried for the kingdom’s future should he soon follow his wife.”

“You do not think the prince capable?” you asked. You had known princes were schooled into being future monarchs since their infancy. Perhaps the Prince Kit was otherwise engaged in other matters, in addition to running the kingdom.

“The prince is very capable, miss. However, the king has stipulated that the kingdom be ruled by a king and a queen. Prince Kit has to marry before he ascends the throne.”

Of course. It was the very reason you were called for, after all. Your presence had been a great hindrance to the future of the kingdom. With you still legally wed to the prince, he would not be able to marry the Grand Duke’s niece.

“Does he have a bride he wishes to wed?” you asked when Abigail passed a cloth for you to dry yourself with. Any woman, noble or not, would be inquisitive towards the future queen of the kingdom. Even one married to said prince. You tried to maintain an air of ignorance on the matters so they would not be suspicious of your coming over to the palace.

“The Grand Duke’s niece, miss. It is said she is a princess from Zaragoza.” The maid let out a towel for you and you stood, taking it and wrapping yourself in it.

A princess. It was now truly understandable the ire the Grand Duke had with you. Who else is a better match for the prince than a princess?

The butterflies in your stomach fluttered as you remembered the blue of Kit’s eyes. He had looked over at you appreciatively, even in your disheveled state, and you had reacted in a way you had seen women did with their lovers. You knew you were flustered when you looked at him, felt the heat rise to your cheeks and made an utter fool of yourself by giving an ungraceful curtsy. You were often calm and collected, always poised unless the situation called for you not to be, and in that moment, you stumbled. All because of your husband.

Oh, dear.

You needed to stop calling him thus, even in your head. The king would have you locked in the dungeons if he ever caught you referring to the prince as your husband.

The dress Abigail had given you belonged to one of the former guests of the palace. It was a surprise the palace kept it at all; you knew they disposed of things that did not belong to the king or had them given away to a charity of some sort. But this dress, although a bit late in its design, was beautiful in its own way. Abigail had helped you don it, lacing your corset just right and as she laced the back of the dress, it was a surprise at how well it fit you. It was like it was made for you.

“Have you any knowledge of the Grand Duke?” you asked as Abigail buckled your shoes .

“Whatever do you mean, miss?” She took the other shoe and put it on your feet.

“I was not made aware of his presence only until recently. How did he come to be in our tiny kingdom?”

“He arrived as an adviser to the king, miss, about two years ago. We do not know more than that.”

“I see,” you said and smiled at your maid. “Thank you for your help today, Abigail. I hope you would not mind it if I ask you to give me a tour of the palace? I would not wish to get lost in any of the many rooms.”

“I fear I am not in the position to do so, miss.” Abigail said with a quick bob of curtsy. “Is there anything you require before I leave?”

You looked at yourself before the mirror and smiled. “No, Abigail. I thank you for your help. I shall see you again tonight.”

“Miss,” the young maid said before leaving.

You blew out a breath, walking back to the window and looked at the sea once more. The kingdom had suffered for a while, what with Queen Amalie’s passing and the king in poor health. The sudden revelation of your childish endeavours of being accidentally married to the prince would risk the already crumbling state the kingdom to come apart further. You had to help in any way you could; it was the very least you could do.

You strode out of your room, walking down the long hallway. You had a vague memory of where the library was, supposing it hadn’t been changed in the last two decades you had been in the palace. You recalled it being situated near the gardens on the east of the grand staircase, with ornate double doors of gold gilding. If you remembered correctly, portraits of the current royal family and ones of the prince should be hung on either side of it.

You walked down the hallway quietly, counting the rooms and committing to memory the doors and halls you had passed through lest you be lost when you return to your room. You went down the grand staircase, smiling politely at some footmen who opened doors for you. You stood before said ornate doors that you had remembered and once the footmen opened them, you went in.

The scent of wood and books assaulted your nose and you smiled to yourself. Your last trip abroad had been to Austria and you had asked for your father’s permission to take a little bit of an excursion to their famed Imperial Court Library. The place did not disappoint. Murals and frescoes of heavenly bodies adorned the walls and ceiling, with shelves that housed every possible volume of books you could imagine. It was a beautiful place and somehow, the palace library seemed to take that as an inspiration.

Any books on the politics of the kingdom would be a great help to you and to this predicament you put yourself in. You walked over to the section of the library that you thought housed the books on your kingdom’s laws when you did not notice that you were not alone in the room.

“I see you are getting comfortable in the palace, girl,” you heard the Grand Duke say.

You turned to the man and dropped into a curtsy, keeping your head down. “Your Grace.”

“What are you doing in the library?” he asked you in that way of his. His tone was almost always accusing and suspicious, despite meeting you only for a few minutes.

“I was hoping to get something to read, Your Grace.” You replied as you stood back to your full height.

“Anything in particular that you are looking for?” He walked over to you and looked you down through his hawk-like nose.

“Laws of this land, Your Grace,” you said honestly.

The way he chuckled grated on your skin. It was sarcastic and rude. “You are too comfortable, you ambitious girl. First, you marry the prince and now you wish to learn more about the laws of this land? What shall be next, turn us out of the palace?” He scoffed. “Find some light reading. There is a book on herbology that I find would best fit someone of your stature.”

You gave a polite smile. Like most dignitaries you had met, they often looked down on you. You found it best to let them underestimate you instead of engaging them in a fight head-on. You had the power prove them otherwise in the next opportunity. The Grand Duke needed to be surprised that you were more than what you appeared to be.

“Thank you, Grand Duke.” You replied with a quick bob. “Forgive me for intruding on your time in the library.”

You turned to the other side of the library, plucking from the shelves a book on herbs and plants in the German language, before taking two sheets of paper and a pencil.

“I shall bid you a good day, Your Grace,” you called out as you curtsied in his general direction once more. You saw him wave his hand at you dismissively and it cued you to leave the awful man alone.

In the very least, you knew where the library was located. The book about the laws of the land would have to wait. The book on herbology, however, looked interesting. You were conversant in many a language, reading this German book would not pose a problem. It would keep you occupied while you waited for your trunks to arrive.

You walked out to the gardens, smiling and greeting the footmen politely as you passed them. Most of the flowers in the garden were ornamental; you highly suspect they would own herbs in such a fancy orchard. Either way, it was a lovely day out and it seemed fitting that you read the book outside. You sat on one of the benches and opened the tome, starting off with Digitalis purpurea.

Kit saw you emerge from the doors of the palace. If he were honest with himself, he would say he was disappointed that you weren’t wearing your breeches and shirt anymore and that he couldn’t admire your shapely figure but with the dress you had now donned, there was no mistaking the contours your body. He had not had this visceral reaction to the Princess Chelina’s portrait, but then again, he had not seen her in person. You, however, he had seen you and had admired you. Perhaps, more than admired you. There was something different about you and for the life of him, he could not name what it was.

Other than, of course, you and he were bound in matrimony.

He could not find it in him to be angry with you. It was a peculiar situation you both had gotten into, the innocent intentions and legally binding contracts. You did not seem to be an opportunistic girl. He remembered your hope for a friendship with him, your eagerness in trying to copy your father’s way of sealing such relationships, and the way you were excited when you both had (unintentionally) sealed each other’s fate. It was simply laughable and not worth getting furious over, unlike his father and the Grand Duke.

“I see your father’s guest has taken your fancy, Your Royal Highness,” said his good friend, the Captain of the Guards.

Kit only grinned. “Don’t I always take fancy at the next pretty lady, Captain?”

The man chuckled heartily. “Need I remind you that you are soon to be wed to a princess. If there is a time as any to act on your fancy, it would be now.”

He only raised an amused brow, turning to his friend. “Is that so, Captain? Tell me, have you made any advances towards one of the abigails?”

“Her name is Abigail,” corrected the Captain. “And no, I have not. There is no reason for us to talk. For your father’s guest, however, there is. Any guest of the king is the guest of the prince as well, isn’t it?”

“If only it were that simple,” Kit all but sighed. Even if he and the captain were close friends, it would do more harm than good to tell him of your relationship with each other. His father had been adamant that he divorce the two of you quietly so he could push through with the wedding to the princess.

“Why not march over and talk to her? No one would turn away the prince.”

While he knew that was true, Kit did not want to disturb your peace. You were poring over a book on your lap while your hands were moving over a piece of paper. Scribbling, perhaps? he thought to himself as he looked over at you once more. He heard the captain say some words to him but he was only intent on watching you. He only moved when he saw the captain advance towards you with purposeful strides.

“My lady,” he heard the captain say.

Kit followed behind him, taking on an impassive air about him so he did not seem overeager to be talking with you even though he was. He wanted to speak to you once more ever since his father told him of the reason you were here. There was something in him that told him he had to know you better, other than from the words his father and the Grand Duke had said to him about you. He saw you look up from your page and stood when your eyes landed on him.

“Your Royal Highness, sir,” you curtsied before them.

“My name is Captain Thibault, miss. May I know yours?” the captain asked.

You stood to your height, eyes on Kit before turning to Thibault with a beautiful smile on your face.

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N, Captain.” you replied.

Thibault nodded to the book in your hands. “May I?”

You offered the book but his friend took the paper instead.

“Are you an artist, Miss Y/N?” Thibault asked as he showed the piece of paper to Kit. “Your sketch is remarkable.”

Kit had been under the tutelage of Master Phineas and he could see that your sketch was excellent with the way you handled your pencil. Your techniques were impeccable. It was like seeing another master’s artwork.

“No, Captain. I was just finding a way to occupy my thoughts. Luckily, I saw a Digitalis purpurea plant in this beautiful garden and decided to draw it so I can further study it inside my room.”

Kit watched you, enamored at the way you were holding yourself. Any woman would have cowered at the sight of the prince and the Captain of the Guards but you remained yourself. There was no air of pretentiousness or false modesty about you and it was very refreshing for him to see that you weren’t one to fall at his feet and wax poetic about his title or his dashing good looks.

“You study plants?” Kit found himself saying. When you turned to him, he felt himself stop at the look of your eyes.

“Oh, no.” You looked at him with your arresting eyes. “The Grand Duke suggested that I read a book on herbology because it befits my stature instead of taking the book I was intending to read. The first plant I saw when the book opened was thus.”

He raised a brow at that. “And what was it that you wanted to read?”

When you caught your lower lip between your teeth, it was a surprise that he did not catch on fire on the spot.

“The laws of the land, Your Royal Highness,” you murmured.

“The laws of the land?” Thibault asked, passing your scrap of paper back to you. “Whatever for?”

“My… friend desires to learn of the grounds of separation. She is convinced she isn’t a fit match for her husband.” You clamped the sheet in between the pages of the book.

German, Kit noted as he peeked at the title of the book you were holding. He learnt German when he was a child and had turned conversant in it. He was suddenly curious as to how you had learned such an arduous language.

“If I may inquire,” Thibault said. You watched the captain with curious eyes. “Why is the lady convinced she is not suit for her husband?”

Kit realized what reply you had given a few seconds before and watched you silently.

“For one, her husband is so above her in stature. It is an unusual marriage, if I dare say so, Captain.” You told them. Your eyes landed on Kit’s once more. “They had unmistakably signed a marriage contract and had been bound since.”

Kit’s lips twitched into a small smile and he found you give him a shy one of yours. Your offense was great in the eyes of his father but to him, it was comical. Absurd and laughable. If Sir William Shakespeare were alive and present, he would have another comedy in his hands.

“You are right, miss. That is unusual.” Thibault said. “But no matter. Should you wish to come back to the library, I am certain His Royal Highness would be of great help to you.”

Kit saw his friend turn to him and he cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. Although, I must warn you, the language the laws were written in are in English and some in Latin.”

You smiled, a dimple sinking into your cheek. “It is no matter. So long as the passage is not wholly in Latin, I think I shall understand it.” You told them.

Thibault gave you a polite smile. “Shall I escort you back to the palace, miss? Perhaps even to the library?”

“I thank you, Captain, but I must decline. I wish to tarry just a little. It is a beautiful day out and it would be such a waste to not bask in the sunlight.” You replied.

“Shall we take a turn about the gardens, then?” Kit asked. “I am sure Captain Thibault is needed by his Guards to command them.”

You looked at him, surprised. You flushed as your eyes collided with his and he would not soon forget the rosy hue that came upon your cheeks. Even with all the beautiful flowers that surrounded you, your beauty, to him, was incomparable.

Thibault only smiled in understanding and bowed. “Your Royal Highness.”

“I would not turn down a walk about the gardens.” You turned to Thibault and held out your hand as if asking for a handshake. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Captain Thibault.”

The Captain instead kissed the top of it. “And you as well, Miss Y/N.”

You blushed once more and then slipped your hand on Kit’s offered arm, walking beside him. Kit loved the garden like his mother did. The royal gardener had maintained well the bushes and the flowers. You were right; it would be a waste to spend the day indoors when it was beautiful like this outside.

“Nice day out,” Kit commented when the silence stretched on.

“Yes, it is, Your Royal Highness.” You said with a smile in your voice.

You tilted your head towards the sky and his eyes followed the outline of your face. A strong nose. Flushed cheeks. Flecks of spots across your nose. The little scar. You looked like you belonged in the lively rays of the sun, not inside the cold formality of the palace.

He caught himself looking at you for longer than what was permitted. “Please, call me Kit.” he said as he cleared his throat, turning away from you.

“Oh, I don’t think it proper that I do.” You murmured. You looked straight ahead now as you both walked aimlessly about.

“I insist,” Kit said once more. “After all, we are wed, are we not?”

Your hand squeezed his arm and he felt the heat of your palm even through the sleeves of his coat. “I apologize for that. It was not my intention to ensnare you in marriage.”

“I know,” was all he said. “May I call you Y/N?”

“You may call me whatever you wish,” you said as you bent and plucked a sprig of lavender.

“If I shall call you by your name, you have to call me by mine. It is a fair exchange.” He said with a smile as he watched you sniff the bud.

You smiled as you looked at him. “Still, it is improper, Your Royal Highness.”

“If you carry on calling me that, I shall call you that as well. You are a princess of this kingdom, after all,” he said lightly.

When you remained quiet, he nodded at the flower in your hands. “Do you like lavenders?”

“They are my favorite. I seal my letters with a sprig of this so people know they are from me.” You opened the book and placed the bloom in between the scraps of paper you had inside. “There is a reason why I wanted to read the laws of the land. I wish to help with this predicament of ours.”

Kit only hummed, walking about with you.

“Your father wishes you to be wed.” You told him, this time with a much firmer tone of voice.

“You do not wish to remain wed to me?” he joked.

“I am no princess,” was all you said. It was neither an affirmation nor a negation. Something inside Kit dared to hope. “I would not want to stand in the way of the future of the kingdom.”

He raised a brow and turned to you. You looked at him.

“You’re hardly in the way,” he said, looking deeply into your eyes.

You gave a shy smile. “Are you really as benevolent as your mother? Finding no fault even when I made such a terrible faux pas?”

All the jesting left him at the mention of his mother. It still felt quite taboo for the kingdom to talk about such terrible happening. He thought he had come to terms with it but he had not, judging from his reaction.

Your hand squeezed his arm once more. You both stopped in your tracks.

“Forgive me, Your Royal Highness. I spoke too liberally.”

He nodded stiffly.

“I shall let you be—”

“Kit! Is that you, cousin?”

Kit turned slowly to the voice behind him. His cousin made his way towards the both of you jauntily, smiling as if he did not intrude upon a serious conversation.

“Your father told me I was to find you here with Captain Thibault. I passed the good man on my way and he told me you were in the presence of a lady.” His cousin said.

Kit cleared his throat, nodding again. “Yes. Louis, this is a… friend, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. Miss Y/N, this is my cousin.”

Louis took your hand and bowed over it, kissing your knuckles. “Louis Toussaint, Duke of Granville.”

You let go of Kit’s arm, dropping into an elegant curtsy. “Your Grace.” you said. Kit was positive he heard a smile in your voice.

“Louis shall suffice, Miss Y/N.”

Kit saw the devious smile on his cousin’s face.

You rose to your height, smiling prettily at his cousin. “Very well, Louis.” You said readily.

Kit only raised his brow… and tamped down the vile green-eyed monster that had suddenly come up him.

The Accidental Princess (Part 8)

Prince Kit x Reader

Synopsis: A contract has been found, after twenty years, bearing your name and the Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter Summary: You tell of truths you had been meaning to tell

Word Count: 10.6k words

Warnings: not sure if there is period-typical misogyny on here but might as well add it to the warning, bit of fluff, smidgen of angst, once that is not as nicely written as others?

A/N: Hi everyone! How's everyone doing? Advance Happy Valentine's Day y'all! I only have 2 more chapters after this, plus an epilogue, so stay tuned! There is no promise the next few chapters would be as long as this one (maybe longer, maybe shorter, who knows?) TAGLIST IS CLOSED! (apparently you can only add 50 mentions? i wasn't aware of this before???) As per uzhe, thoughts, reviews, comments, suggestions, requests (and reblogs) are very much welcome! Not beta'd, we own up to our mistakes. Please enjoy Part 8!

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |

You poured hot wax on your folded missive, taking a sprig of lavender from the bouquet Kit had given you weeks past and placed it atop. You watched as it dried, sealing your letter written in lemon juice ink from all the world to read.

Your talk with the gardener had proved fruitful as he confirmed your suspicions of which plants and bulbs the Grand Duke had gifted the late queen. They had been of the poisonous variety, with their insidious properties masked by their beauty. The gardener had been surprised that the queen insisted they be planted alongside her harmless flowers. He had no choice but to follow through her wish and had planted the pernicious blooms in the open garden, despite his fear of people being poisoned for accidentally picking at them.

You had wanted to tell the man that his fears had come true, that the blooms he had planted claimed the life of the very queen who had asked them to be there. You refrained from doing so, not wanting the poor man to blame himself on a death that was not his fault.

It had been the Grand Duke’s design; you were sure of it now. Why the nobleman did it, you had not one idea. Even if you were adamant in knowing of it, the only way to learn of it was to directly ask the man.

You shivered. The very thought of nearing the man, so much as addressing him, sent a wave of coldness about you. He was sinister and vile, and he had threatened to get rid of you for crossing him. If you asked him why he did what he had done, he very well could have killed you for even asking such a question.

Your thoughts moved to the vials of antidotes you kept on your person. Since discovering his penchant to use harmful herbs, you were careful of the food you ate. You only drank tea that you had brewed yourself and ate food only after he had taken a few bites of his. You were highly suspicious of everything that involved the Grand Duke that you kept a close watch of his every action.

Once the wax seal has dried, you replaced your writing implements in their case and kept the letter in your bureau away from prying eyes. You were yet to address the letter but you knew the person you ought to have the missive read be someone you trusted the most.

As you were clearing your desk, hurried raps sounded from your door. Your heart leapt to your throat, making you squeak when they knocked hard again.

“Y/N!” Louis’s voice sounded from the opposite side of the door.

You breathed out a sigh of relief, swallowing the bile that had come up. You had thought it was the Grand Duke, who had come to make good of his threats to you. Surely, it was not beyond the man to do so, especially since he wanted you gone from the palace.

You opened the door, looking up at your dearest friend’s scowl.

“Louis?” You called.

He barreled his way to your chambers, standing in the middle of it. There was a set look about his face, something that was not seen often on the jolly duke. The only time Louis had been serious—and far less than the one you were currently faced with—was when he had been embarrassed by a guest in his own home.

“What’s wrong?” You asked gently. “Is it Granville? Has something happened to your home?”

He ignored your questions. “Why are you here? Why did the king invite you to the palace?” He inquired instead, surprising you.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Come now, Y/N. It is a simple question. Need I repeat myself or are you deliberately not answering it?”

“What brought this on?” There was something amiss about the duke. He looked angry at you but also there was a hint of betrayal on his face. Your heart clenched at the emotions on his face. It was unusual to see both on him at the same time.

“Answer my question. Why are you here?”

You straightened, hearing the authority in his voice for the first time and not wanting to argue with it. “The king asked me for my help with some matters.” You told him flatly.

He scoffed and shook his head at you. “Really now. Lying? I never thought you would stoop so low.”

You frowned. Ire overshadowed your concern for the man. Lying? You? When had you lied to your dearest friend?

“I’ve never lied to you, Louis. Tell me when I had.”

“You never told me why you were here, Y/N. You never told me the full truth of it.” He paced the room, shaking his head. “You must know that accounts for lying by omission!”

You did not know what had happened for him to question your presence in the palace. He had never been curious in all the time you and he had been here. Why now? you wondered.

“Were you even planning on telling me you’re married to my cousin?”

You felt as though you were drenched in cold water at the surprise of his question. You trembled from within and you hoped it did not show. How did he know? Who told him?

You swallowed and schooled your features.

“From which rumormonger did you get this nonsense?” you asked, affecting your voice with a light tone. You felt a cold knot settle in the pits of your stomach.

Betrayal flared in his eyes. “Stupidity does not become you.”

Your mouth slackened, stunned at his insult. “I beg your pardon—”

“Are you going to deny you’re married to Kit? Are you going to lie to me again?”

“Louis—”

“Did you have your fun, Y/N? Did you enjoy making an imbecile of me for not knowing the truth?” he spat.

You frowned once again, confused that he would think of himself as such. “‘Have fun?’ ‘Imbecile?’” You echoed. “Louis, I would never have fun at your expense.”

“And I had! I had fun at your expense, and you did not even have the decency to tell me you’re Kit’s wife! That you are the princess of his kingdom!” His eyes had gone back to being accusatory.

You swallowed. You did not say anything at all to him.

“You are married to my cousin, who is betrothed to Chelina. You knew what I felt for her. You even tease me for it! What am I, then? A stupid spectator to this farce? Was I only invited so all of you would laugh at me for being oblivious of what is happening around me?”

You shook your head wildly, nearing him. Even if Louis was angry, you knew he would never lift a hand to hurt you. “No, of course not. You’re not stupid. You’re my dearest friend. My best friend.”

“Best friend?” he asked. There was disbelief in his voice. “Even just friends trust each other with secrets,” he ground out.

You felt your eyes water and you shut them tightly, not willing the tears to fall. You were exhausted and troubled. The last thing you wanted was to argue with Louis, or even placate him for your fault.

“The risk was too great for me to tell you, Louis,” you said helplessly, watching the anger in his face dissipate at the quiver in your voice. “You do not know how much I had wanted to tell you the moment you arrived in the palace.”

“But why didn’t you?” He asked.

You ached at the confusion and betrayal in his voice.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that you were married to my cousin?” he asked you gently.

“Because—Because I will not stay married to him.” You breathed out and wiped the tears that sat on the corner of your eyes. “The very reason I am here is so Kit and I could get a divorce. The king wants him to marry Princess Chelina. How would he if my name is still signed in that marriage contract?”

You watched the duke, at the emotions that flitted across his face. He is angry because he felt betrayed that you did not tell him of your secret, you told yourself. His anger was not misplaced.

“I did not wish to keep you in the dark, Louis. I had no choice but to do so. It is the king’s wish that I keep my marriage to Kit a secret. It is a big scandal that the princess of the kingdom is a nobody, a commoner who did not even have a proper basic education.”

You heard Louis sigh. He walked over to your bed and sat on the edge of it. You did the same, sitting beside the duke.

“Since when have you been married?” he asked, his voice tired.

“Since I was six,” you said in a hushed tone.

“You were six when you married Kit.” He repeated in disbelief.

You nodded.

“How did it happen?”

You took a deep breath. “It was my fault.” You told him everything there was to tell; from your mistake of taking a marriage contract to the moment the king had asked of you to come to the palace. And because you felt the guilt of not telling him everything the moment he arrived, you recounted Kit’s confession of love in his mother’s garden as well.

Louis remained still beside you, only listening to your words. His reaction as you went on ranged from confusion at how it had happened, to anger at the way you were addressed and treated when you arrived at the palace, and finally of pity when you told him that you loved his cousin as well but you would not allow yourself to. He only spoke when you had finished.

“Why don’t you tell him you love him, pet?” he asked you, voice soft.

You shook your head. You wrung your hands together before you. “I don’t want to cause another scandal, Louis. He is to marry a princess. The king and the Grand Duke made that very obvious to me.”

“But you’re a princess. Surely, Kit would not have to marry Chelina because he is already bound to you in matrimony.”

“I am a princess only by marriage. It is no good to them.”

“Because?”

“I have nothing to offer to the kingdom. I am no tool for the prosperity of it.” You shrugged casually but on the inside, you hurt at the unfairness of your situation. “They want him to marry for advantage and who is the better candidate than a princess of a thriving, bountiful country.”

“Does Kit have a say in this?”

You looked at your dearest friend. “Even if he does, he must weigh it against his father’s wishes. I would not want to place him in another predicament when it is my fault that we are in such a problem already.”

“Kit loves you.”

You swallowed painfully, mind replaying that night. “It does not matter.”

“Come now, Y/N.” He scoffed. “‘Does not matter.’ My aunt and uncle were in love.”

“Your aunt was a princess.” You pointed out. “If she were a commoner, they would not have met.”

“And you believe that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

You frowned. Surely, he knew what these political marriages stood for. “If all monarchs had chosen love over their duty, I don’t think the kingdom would thrive or be as how it is now. Marriages had always been for alliances. There are the lucky few who love their intended and the unlucky ones who do not but always, always marriages are for advancement.”

“How did you become a pessimist?” He mimicked your frown, not in mockery but in confusion. Like he, you were a jolly person, albeit a tad serious and far less vexatious.

“Only pragmatic, Louis. If I remained married to Kit and be queen, I would not have anything for the kingdom. The last thing you would need is an incapable monarch.”

You knew you spoke the truth. You had nothing for the kingdom, no riches to give, nor a hefty dowry that would be of use. Instead, you only had yourself and your abundance of knowledge from all the traveling you had done. It was nothing that would ensure the prosperous future of the kingdom. You were nothing but a speck of insignificance to the whole of the kingdom.

“What are your plans after your divorce? Where will you be?” Louis asked after some time.

He stood by your fireplace now, watching the cackling embers that warmed your room.

“I shall be traveling with my father again, of course.” You remained on your bed, watching your dearest friend. He seemed to accept the truth fairly quick and found no fault in what you had done.

He raised a brow at you. “You rather you remain in that ship of yours than in the kingdom?”

You shrugged. “There is nothing for me here. I have no reason to stay.”

“Then may I suggest a marriage pact with me, pet?”

You raised a brow at the duke, lips quirking at the absurdity of his idea. “I hope you see the irony in your words, Louis. The very reason I am in this predicament was because I intended a friendship pact that ended in my marriage instead.”

He made a face, scrunching his nose when he realized. You gave a small giggle, your first since telling him of everything. Trust the duke to lighten your spirits, you thought gratefully.

“I may have worded it wrongly but that is what I mean.”

“Is that so?” you teased.

He ignored you. “It is no secret that we share none of that amorous love with one another. At best, we tolerate each other.”

You quirked a brow, amused. He went on with a roguish smirk on his face.

“This pact is more for your protection, pet. I would not want you to be married off to the last ineligible bachelor all because you had been divorced. I do not care for your status.”

“No, I don’t think you would,” you piped in, crossing your ankles under your skirt.

“As the Duke of Granville, I am expected to produce heirs to ensure that the duchy remains in the family.” When he saw your frown, he quickly followed through his statement. “I assure you my intentions are not barbaric."

You hummed, waiting for him to go on.

He cleared his throat and stood straighter, hands behind his back. “I am quite sure there had been hordes of men who had asked for your hand in marriage during your travels. I am sure as well that they sung praises and told you of promises. I shall forego telling you all of those because mine and theirs are all truly one and the same.”

Your lips turned up in amusement. “If you are trying to be romantic, you are failing at it, Louis.”

He frowned at you and you chuckled at the funny expression of his face. “It is not every day I go off proposing to ladies, pet.”

“No, perhaps not. You only go off wooing them,” you said with an affectionate roll of your eyes.

He sighed. You chuckled.

“But carry on,” you urged. You made a show of listening intently to him by turning your face up at him. “It is my only chance to be romanced by the great Duke of Granville.”

He harrumphed, lifting his chin up in a show of pomp. You snickered.

“If you wish to know my promises then, pet, here they are. I am titled. Everything that comes with my title shall be yours when we marry.”

“Of course.” You nodded.

“I shall give you the freedom you crave as well. We can travel far and wide to the places you have not been to. All I wish in return is for your companionship and perhaps, we might be able to produce an heir for Granville.”

You bit on the inside of your cheek. Louis did not ask for much in his suit. He only wanted your companionship and an heir. You would have the freedom you so wish, as well as protection and status. But with marrying Louis, you would be cousins with Kit.

Your heart beat violently in your chest at the thought of your husband. As soon as the divorce was final, you were sure the king would not wait a second more to marry him and the princess. To Kit, you would be nothing more but a distant memory to him, even if he had claimed that he would never forget about you.

But you could not take it. To be cousins with him was much more painful than leaving the kingdom. As Duchess of Granville, you would be oft invited to royal balls and feasts. It was inevitable to not see him.

You swallowed thickly, feeling the burn in your eyes as you started to tear from all the thoughts that came to mind. “Louis…”

Louis must have heard the waver in your voice because his features softened. He returned beside you on the bed. “I knew you would not accept, pet.” He took your hand. “I am cousins with the man who loves you and you love in return. It must be painful for you, even now.”

“Perhaps not as painful as to see the Princess Chelina be married to your cousin.” You turned to your dearest friend, blinking away the tears. “What a farce our lives had become. Me, married and in love with your cousin, and you in love with his betrothed.”

“It is like we are Shakespeare’s characters in his play.” His smile was sad on his face. It looked very unnatural in him and your heart ached at the sight of it. “In spite of all that you had said, you must know, pet, that I am loyal to you. Even when you shall be divorced from my cousin. Whatever it is you wish for me to do, I will do so.”

You smiled at him gratefully. “Thank you, Louis. Then you should know I will do the same for you, even if I had declined to be the future Duchess of Granville.”

He squeezed your hand in thanks and stood. “I shall go now. Thank you for explaining to me what had happened.”

“Before you leave,” you said. It was a good time as any, to give to Louis the letter you had written. You trusted the duke. You knew he would understand.

You stood from your bed and walked over to your bureau, pulling out the secret letter. Louis was a duke and he would have the safety of his title to spare him from the Grand Duke’s wrath should your letter be made public.

“I need you to have this for safekeeping,” you said as you neared him. You held out your letter to him. “You can only open it when I have gone from the palace. And when you do so, promise me you are in a safe place, that you have your men ready to protect you.”

He took the letter gingerly from you. “This sounds rather grave, pet.”

You nodded. “I hope you trust me enough not to ask questions, Louis.”

He nodded and kept the letter in his breast pocket. “I only have but one.”

You looked at him.

“May I know something about its contents?”

You bit on your lower lip, contemplating on just ignoring his request. “It is about what had happened the year before.” You told him instead. You refused to say anything more, hoping your cryptic answer would be enough to quell the obviously growing curiosity in the man.

He only nodded and opened the door. “I promise, pet. I’ll do as you ask.”

You gave a wan smile. “Thank you, Louis.”

He went, leaving you wondering if you had indeed made the right decision.

In the days that followed Louis’s confrontation of you, you kept mostly to yourself. You had finally picked up on the books that you had asked your father for and had finished them all quite quickly. When you had exhausted your selection of novels, it was only then when you would venture to the gardens. You always chose the time Kit would be training with Captain Thibault or when he would be busy in his office so you would not cross paths. It was your way of distancing yourself from the impending heartbreak of the divorce. The lesser you saw of him, the lesser the intensity of the heartbreak would be.

Louis was an amiable companion since he learned you were the princess. He still had his happy mood about him but he took more care of his jests around you. You had assured him that he would not be sent to the dungeons if he joked around you—not that you had any power to do so but it eased the duke’s mind—but he was still cautious of his words.

You did have noticed the longing glances he casted on the Princess Chelina one night at dinner. While the subject of their conversation was a happy one, their tones were not. It added to your heartbreak that your closest friend pined for someone he could not have as well. How unfair the world is, you thought miserably. You understand your misfortune; you brought it upon yourself. Louis was an innocent bystander to all of this. He was not meant to have his heart broken.

“Pet, I seemed to have forgotten something I was meaning to show you.” Louis said as he broke free from escorting you to the kitchen for your nightly tradition of tea. “Would you mind it if I let you go ahead while I retrieve it?”

You smiled gently at your friend. “Not at all. Shall I have the usual biscuits prepared?”

“Please. Perhaps you can ask Cook to prepare for chocolate biscuits as well?”

“Of course.” You smiled. “Go along. I shall have it all prepared once you return.”

You headed towards the kitchen, greeting the servants and the Cook before asking her to prepare the biscuits Louis had asked for. You had also asked for Abigail to bring you some writing implements to pass your time while the tea steeped. When all had been prepared and Louis still away, you took to writing an overdue missive to your father.

Dearest Father,

I have been missing you! Forgive me for not writing so often. It is difficult I fear I had been occupied with matters in the palace; matters not unlike the one I had told you in my last missive. A solution had been found now and we await word from the magistrate. I wish to tell you of everything that has hap I had been doing whilst I was kept here but I fear I will run out of paper to account for all of the happenings. I shall tell you of the important parts of it:

Louis Toussaint arrived in the palace at the same time as I and he has kept me company for my stay. I confess he is still as tedious and as charming as he had been when I first met him. He is not anymore the Marquess of Reading, however. He has taken his father’s title as the Duke of Granville after the former duke passed quite some time ago. He is still unmarried, which comes as a surprise to me. He had proposed to me much to my consternation, which I promptly turned down. I only view him a friend and I had told him of that, to which he agreed. There are no ill feelings towards us with my rejection. I shall hope, though, that when he finds his future Duchess of Granville that she would be tolerant of his rather flamboyant behaviour. Louis is not hard to love but I feel he is quite too much sometimes.

I had met the prince’s betrothed. Chel She is a princess of Zaragoza. She is very soft-spoken and well-mannered, like the Prince Giacomo’s sister. The king had tasked me to accompany her on a trip to the square a few days past. She was very polite with the citizens. I think she shall be a great fit for the prince.

Kit The prince is very intelligent. I had the pleasure of knowing him quite very well during my stay here. His ambitions for the kingdom are wonderful and I know he shall be a great king some day. How I wish I could stay and see the improvements I would love to stay I wish I could remain mar He cares for his father, the king, so much. I had no idea his mother had passed the year before. He still laments her loss and he does everything in her memory. I wish to see him happy before I leave the palace. It is not for his peace of mind but for mine. I love him

You hummed lowly as you wrote your letter, hearing the commotion from the kitchen staff at Louis’s entrance. You dipped your quill in your inkpot and was about to start on another paragraph when you heard a voice.

His voice.

“Louis told me I would find you here.” Kit said with a low voice, as though if he had been any louder, he would have disrupted your peace.

Your hand stopped before the quill could touch the paper. A drop of ink blotted on it and you watched as it spread on the page, mimicking the rising panic in you. You had been successful in your avoidance of him, so successful that you pined for him whenever you had gotten out of his way. Your feared—in your refusal to tell him that you loved him—that him not coming to you was indicative that you were nothing more to him than a fleeting fancy.

But he was here, in the small space you and Louis had claimed to take your tea, because his cousin had told him you would be found here. Oh, Louis. I do not know if I am cross with you or if I am joyed that you had sent your cousin to me, you thought to yourself.

Your chair scraped against the floor as you stood, your hands clasped together before you as you regarded him nervously.

“Kit,” you whispered, voice trembling, nervous to finally be facing him after quite some time evading him.

“Y/N,” he breathed. He looked as nervous as you felt, with his cravat loose and askew on his neck. His hair looked like hands had run over them. Had he, perhaps, kissed the Princess Chelina? He looked rather mussed. He even looked flushed.

You swallowed the jealousy that came up to your throat. “Is he coming?”

Kit’s face fell at your question. You watched in regret as his shoulder slumped forward, his demeanor changing. He swallowed before answering.

“No.” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “I will call him if you wish—”

You shook your head. You were exhausted from running from him. And clearly, Louis had planned this meet between you and Kit.

You both watched each other. For the first time since that night, there had been scarcely any words between you. The air felt thick with unsaid confessions and intense emotions yet none of you were brave enough to voice them. You knew you could not do it, even if you had longed to scream it the moment you ran from him.

You licked your lips and gestured for the chair before you. “Would you like to—”

“Yes,” he replied, quite eager in his response.

Kit wasted no time walking towards the chair opposite yours. He sat after you had but he did not engage you in any conversation because you were silent as well. You quietly folded your missive and kept it away.

You pushed the tea to him when you found him just staying still. “It is a special blend,” was all you said.

He took the cup and drank at it, emitting a satisfied sound when he replaced it on the saucer. “This does not taste the same as the one Father had been drinking.”

You looked at him and tilted your head to the side. “I’m sorry?”

“Father mentioned that he had been drinking your blend of tea.” He told you. “He rather enjoys it than the tea he had from before. He has fared far better than he had since he began taking it.”

You nodded mutely. “That’s good to know,” you said. You thought of what he had said, of the improvement of the king’s health and remembered that. It was another suspicious thing to note, especially since his health had improved over a simple blend of tea.

“Kit—”

“Yes?” He said immediately. He looked at you with eager eyes, watching you closely.

You took your teacup so your hands were occupied. “Since when had your father been sick?” you asked gently.

“Quite a while, I’m afraid.” He replied.

“Since your mother’s funeral?” you asked.

You saw as he watched you with a bit of surprise in his face. “Yes. His health had declined since she had been buried. He had not been better ever since, until he started drinking your tea, that is.”

You nodded, sipping at your drink. “And your engagement to the Princess Chelina?”

His hand hovered above a chocolate biscuit. “What of my engagement?” His voice was quiet and strained.

You bit the inside of your cheek at his tone. “When did you become engaged to her?”

“Y/N, I don’t want to talk about her—”

“Please,” you urged. “I just want to know.”

He took the chocolate biscuit and ate it before answering. “Months after mother’s passing. Father was not getting any better and he decided that I should marry the Grand Duke’s niece so the land may have an heir.”

You nodded. You sipped your tea once more, quiet and deep in thought. It was a sound reason, especially coming from the king who was worried for the future of the kingdom. It was a possibility, then, that the Grand Duke had orchestrated the Queen’s passing so he many instate his niece on the throne. If he had, then it would mean he would have control of the kingdom through his niece. But why would he need to do that if he was already the royal advisor to the king?

“That is an interesting piece of jewelry. I haven’t seen it before on your wrist.” Kit commented, his eyes locked on the bracelet the Princess Chelina had purchased for you. It had become your favorite accessory, wearing it almost every day because the blue stone reminded you of Kit’s eyes.

You touched the stone, small smile on your lips. “Yes, it is new. Princess Chelina bought it for me in the square.”

“In the square?”

You nodded. “It is a product of our kingdom, mined from the very mountains that border us on the east.” You pulled it away from your wrist and held it out to him. “I confess I haven’t seen anything as beautiful as that.”

Kit took it from you, running his finger down the intricate metalwork. “What do you know of those mines?”

You raised a brow at his question, at his tone that seemed unusually suspicious. “The shopkeeper told me of its discovery and the history of the mines. That there had been people who were interested in buying them but never had the chance to do so because your mother had died and your father had not decreed anything about it.”

He nodded absently, eyes still on the gem. Blue on beautiful blue. “The mines were part of my mother’s plan for international trade. No one was allowed to export them without her permission. She believed it is our most precious product.”

“I was told that it is only in our kingdom that these stones could be found. I could see why your mother thinks it precious.” You muttered, eyes turning on to the biscuit plate. “Knowing the nobles’ and the royals’ penchant for shiny, beautiful stones, they would covet the mountains and would likely buy whatever it is you sell them from those mines. I could say so for a fact because I had seen how they had coveted gold when I was in Florence.”

Kit nodded again. “Father wishes to sell the mines, not just the stones. I told him no,” he confided.

“I do not think it a smart idea to sell the mines either.” You murmured as you poured another cup of tea. You refilled Kit’s cup too.

“Why do you think so?”

You sipped your tea, tasting the lemon and peppermint on your tongue. You looked at Kit once more, finding him looking at you instead of the intricate piece of jewelry in his hands. Still in his eyes were the same love and wonder in them. Your heart cried at your refusal to acknowledge how it felt.

“Let us say, if you were to be asked of what to do with the mines, what would you do?” Kit asked when you remained quiet.

You put your tea down, eyes turning to the liquid in it. “I would create more jobs with it.” You replied. You ran your finger on the rim of the cup, watching the small waves that were created on the drink.

“Oh?”

You nodded, looking at him. “Yes.”

“For profit?”

You took a chocolate biscuit, halving it and leaving the other on the plate. “That would only be a consequence of my plan. I would do it for the people.” You ate a piece of the biscuit. “I had the opportunity to talk to some more of the citizens in the square, not just the merchants and shopkeepers but also the peasants. Don’t you think it ironic that the people who take care of our agriculture are the very ones who starve because the wars had left them unemployed after depleting their yield? I thought, perhaps, that if I were to put half of those peasants to work in the mines and the other half to continue working in the fields, then there would be jobs for them without fighting for who gets to sell more of their yield to the merchants.”

Kit watched you quietly, listening to you as you went on about your rant. He kept silent but nodded as you made your points. He then took the other half of your biscuit, smiling softly at you. “You seem to have given your answer some thought, maybe had even readied one long before I could ask you the question.” He teased.

You chuckled at his jest. “It is the truth. There is nothing I want more than to see a kingdom flourish with all of its people. No one should be left behind. Everyone, even the smallest of us, has a purpose.”

There was a sparkle of admiration in Kit’s eye. You preened at the unspoken compliment.

“You are brilliant,” he said with a genuine smile.

You flushed at his words, looking at him shyly through your lashes. “Thank you.”

He placed the bracelet back on your wrist and you shivered as his fingers lingered on your pulse. You were positive he felt the increase in their speed. He did not draw his hand back immediately. Instead, he traced idle figures on your skin and you let him. Because even if you could not have him in your life, you at least had this moment to remember him for the rest of it. You resigned yourself to the comfort of his nearness.

“I see you have your writing materials about,” Kit said after a while.

You looked at the folded paper and the inkpot beside you. You were yet to finish your letter to your father.

“Yes. I was writing to my father. It had been a while since I had last sent a letter. He must be worried about me.” You told him.

“What have you told him?”

“Just… events. Louis’s arrival. The princess’s. I was going to write of my trips to the square.”

“Me too, I hope?”

You looked at him, feeling impish and a teasing smile graced your lips. “Is there something worth mentioning about you? I tried but I could not find any,” you joked lightly.

Kit’s chuckle was explosive; it erupted from the deep of his chest and when it did, it brought with them wrinkles around his eyes. It was a wonderfully joyous expression on his face. You loved watching how his face changed. You loved him, that was that.

“You wound me, Y/N,” he teased back.

“I have not gotten to wounding yet, Kit.” You grinned.

He laughed once again. You felt your stomach turn at his every chortle.

“I jest. Forgive me.” You took your cup and drank.

“All is forgiven.” He smiled at you and tilted his head to the side as he studied you. “Do you miss him, your father?”

You nodded seriously, sobering. “Very much so.”

“Would you like to visit him tomorrow?”

You bit your lip, considering his words. It would be quite an excursion. You lived far from the palace, nearer to the borders of the next kingdom. The journey would take quite a while just to get there.

“As much as I would like to, it would take up most of the day just to go to and from there. I would not be allowed to spend that much time outside of the palace walls. The King had been angry at me for being alone in the square.” You gave a small smile, shrugging your shoulders.

“You will be with me.” He told you. “We shall make a day of it. There is nothing for me to do tomorrow and I am sure you are free as well.”

“Kit…” It was on the tip of your tongue to refuse. You knew it was the proper thing to do, to keep away from him. You had been too comfortable in his presence. If you allowed yourself to fall any deeper, you knew it would be impossible for you to leave.

Kit sighed. It hurt you to see him so despondent. Just one day. Let him be yours for a day, you tried to convince yourself. Just one day for a lifetime of memories.

“All right.” You agreed with a smile. “ Tomorrow it is. I am sure my Father would be happy to see me after being away from him for a while.”

You spent the rest of the night talking with each other, conversation flowing easily between you. Although there was no mention of that night in the garden, it still hung above your heads. Neither of you acknowledged it. You were fine with talking of other matters, mainly of the welfare of the kingdom since you saw how it plagued him.

When the tea and biscuits—it was Kit who loved the chocolate biscuit since he had eaten mostly those and rarely of the cream ones—were finished, Kit offered to escort you back to your room. He held on to your writing implements as you held on to his arm. The air around the both you was charged with emotion, maybe because you were somehow back with him again as he held your arm, but neither of you moved to make space between yourselves. Instead, you even pressed closer to his side, feeling the heat off of his body as you walked up the palace stairs. The silence was companionable and even as it stretched on, none of you found the need to fill it with unnecessary conversation.

You opened the door to your chambers, hesitating to enter lest the intensity of the moment between you and Kit would dissipate if you did. He returned your writing materials to you, gently caressing your hand when you took it from him. He got a hold of your free hand and laid a soft kiss on your knuckles, lingering, breathing on them as he took his time.

You shivered as you watched. Here was Kit, your husband, refusing to leave because you both knew that these small moments held far more importance than how it truly looked to the spectators.

“Good night, Y/N,” Kit whispered against your knuckles. He rose and watched you with his beautiful cerulean eyes, just looking at you as though you hung the moon that night.

Without another thought, your hand cupped his face and your thumb grazed his cheekbone. You felt him lean to your touch, sighing ever so slightly as you held his face. You went up to your toes and with the gentlest of all actions, you kissed his cheek.

“Good night, Kit.” You breathed against his skin.

You said no more words after that, only pulling away to enter your room. You peeked at him through your closing door, smiling softly and lovingly as you closed it shut.

To say that Kit was excited was an understatement. He was eager to spend the day with you after longing for you for quite some time. He had slept soundly last night, much better than hew had in all the last few months, and when he awoke, he was sure the sun shone just for you and him.

Kit waited by the stables, having had breakfast earlier than the usual and changed into his riding attire. The carriage was ready, as well as the guards Captain Thibault had assigned, and the only person missing was you.

“You seem to be in jollier spirits today, Your Royal Highness,” Captain Thibault commented as he stood beside the prince.

The prince could not stop the smile that was on his face. “Captain, of course I had been this jolly. You are perhaps too occupied with your Abigail to see it.”

Thibault chuckled heartily. “Of course, Your Royal Highness, must be Abigail’s fault,” he relented wryly.

Just then, you emerged from the palace. You seemed refreshed and excited, as eager as he was feeling to get on with the day. When your eyes held his, he saw the brightest smile come to your lips. His hearted gave a start as he remembered the feel of them on his cheek the night before.

“Good morning, Captain Thibault,” you told the man beside him, smiling and giving the man a small smile.

“Good morning, Your Royal Highness,” Thibault greeted as he bowed.

Kit saw you stop at your title. He quickly remedied the situation lest you start panicking. “Good morning, Y/N.”

You turned to him, a relieved smile appearing on your lips. “Good morning, Kit. I hope you had a good sleep?”

“I had,” he nodded. All of my dreams were of you, he wanted to say. You, waving to the citizens of the kingdom as he declared you his queen. You, ruling beside him in the kingdom. You, just being what you were. His wife. His love.

He watched as the sun’s rays kissed your skin, illuminating your lively face and highlighting the apples of your cheeks. Every time, every single time, your beauty took his breath away.

He had not realized he had been looking at you for quite some time until the Captain cleared his throat. “Your Royal Highnesses, let us get going.”

Once boarded, Kit insisted that you sit beside him again in case that you were thrown from your seat like you had been before. You did not seem to mind sitting beside him and he tamped down the little happy jig his heart danced in his chest. You brought along Abigail, which was of no issue to him but he had hoped to spend the time going to your father’s alone with you in conversation. Instead, you kept silent on the way but gave him sideways glances every now and then. He smiled at you every time his eyes caught yours.

“What is your father like?” Kit asked when Abigail had begun to doze off.

You turned to him, lips puckered when you hummed in query. Kit could have sworn he would have kissed you if not for the unwanted company present in the carriage.

“I’m sorry. I did not hear your question.” You said.

“I asked how your father is like. You only spoke of his work as a diplomat. You did not mention much of him outside his work.”

You smiled softly and there was a loving look in your eyes. “My father is the best of all fathers. I am, of course, speaking in bias because he is my family but I also speak in truth. It did not matter to him that he did not have a son. He loves me just as I am.”

“And of your mother?” he inquired. “I don’t remember you mentioning her at all.”

Your voice turned solemn and sad. “My mother died when I was young. I had not much memory of her, but every little thing I remembered of her, it was that she was the kindest, bravest, most beautiful person I had ever known. It is a pity she did not see me grow.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

You only shrugged. “It’s not your doing. In my father’s stories, she was the best there is. He often told me of the things they had done together before they were married. My father was a scholar before he became a diplomat. It was how he met my mother. She was his mentor’s niece.”

You leaned back on your seat, a happy dreamy smile on your lips. “Whenever he talks of her, it’s like she has never left us. I think, for him, she is still alive and just waiting for us every time we come from our travels. He buys her trinkets from every kingdom and when we return, he puts them in a special place in our library.”

Kit saw the change in your emotions, at the way your eyes watered and your lips into a moue of regret. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

You wiped at the tears on your cheeks. You heaved a deep breath, shaking your head as you do so. “I know my father misses my mother very much even though he does not show me. I want him to be happy, to remarry, but he told me he had no need to. That he had had the best love had to offer. Why would he try once more if it wouldn’t be with the same great love as before?”

He watched you intently. He understood what your father meant, knowing that there would never be another kind of love as the one he felt around and with you. He knew that you were the only one made for him. He had fought for you and even if it had been a sort of a losing battle, he knew he had to keep on fighting. You were perfectly made for him as he was for you. It was frustrating that the world did not see it that way.

The carriage rolled to a stop before a beautiful country home. Full trees dotted the sides of the tiny estate. A modest but full garden and a fountain adorned the space between the gates and the main house. Your home was charming; it was not grandiose like Granville or the palace but it had its own character. If anything, it looked very homey and it reminded Kit of you.

Kit descended the carriage first and held out his hand to receive you. There was a giddy look on your face when you stepped out of the coach. He watched you go ahead of your small party and to the door, pulling at the rope excitedly. Kit heard the bell ring somewhere inside the house.

The door opened seconds later, revealing a man advanced in age. Kit saw semblances of you in the man and figured he must be your father.

“Father!” You exclaimed and flung yourself at the man.

The man readily wrapped his arms around you and spun you around, laughing along. Kit felt himself smile at the affectionate display.

“Oh, my little one! I’ve missed you! You did not send word, mon petit! I would have readied the house for your arrival!” The man had put you down and smiled at you.

“I am only here to visit, Father.” You turned to Kit and still smiling, beckoned him closer. “Kit—The prince thought of an excursion because I had missed you terribly.”

Your father had pulled away from you and bowed at your husband. “Your Royal Highness,” he said.

Kit smiled and bowed at your father in respect. “Sir. Thank you for receiving us on short notice. I would have sent word of our arrival but that would defeat the purpose of a surprise.”

“And a surprise indeed,” your father said when Kit stood. “Thank you, Your Royal Highness, for bringing my daughter. Please, come in our humble abode. I shall have the stable hand take care of your horses.”

“I shall ask Cook to prepare our tea and biscuits, Father.” You kissed his cheek and went away, leaving Kit with your father.

“Please, come in, Your Royal Highness.” Your Father stepped aside for the prince to enter.

Kit entered your home and looked around in awe. He did not know what he had expected of your home but one thing he was sure of was that it was not as stuffy or as formal as the palace. You reflected the vivacity and spontaneity of your home.

Your father led him to the sitting room and left the door ajar. Kit saw Thibault stay behind.

“Please, have a seat,” your father said as he moved some items about.

Kit planted himself at the sofa and waited.

“I hope my daughter was no trouble in the palace, Your Royal Highness,” the man said with a jesting smile as he sat on the opposite seat.

Kit smiled. Like you, it was easy to talk to your father. “On the contrary, Sir, it was I who had been causing trouble.”

The man laughed heartily. “Forgive me for speaking freely, but I remembered you running about the palace when you were younger. Quite spirited you were. Now too, I believe.”

“I had since stopped running,” he said with a grin.

The man chuckled. He sobered after a while and regarded Kit with an apologetic look. “Let me apologize for my daughter’s fault. She has told me of the problem she has caused. I hope you are not angry with her.”

Kit shook his head vehemently. “I would never be angry at her. While our circumstances are… difficult, I find myself completely unable to hate her for what had happened. After all, Sir, I am in love with your daughter.”

The man stopped in surprise, perhaps. It worried Kit when it took him a moment to recover. “Your Royal Highness—”

“Please, Sir, call me Kit. I am, after all, your son by your daughter’s marriage to me.”

“Oh. I had not been asked of that before. But then again, my daughter had never been accidentally married to a prince, other than you. And even so, it is improper that I call you as such because you are still the prince.” He mumbled and cleared his throat. “Perhaps I shall refrain from addressing you so I would not call you by your name.”

The prince smiled, amused. “Now, I understand where Y/N gets her stubbornness from.”

“She took after her mother, not I.” The man was back in his good humor once again. “Please, let me thank you once again for bringing my daughter. I had been worried about her. I know she is safe in the palace but a father cannot help but worry especially when his daughter is away from him.”

He nodded.

“How is your father? I trust the King is in good health?”

“His health has been improving. He had become sickly when my mother had passed but recently, he is returning to his usual self.”

“I am sorry to hear of your mother’s passing.”

Kit gave a sad smile, nodding at the man. “As am I but it is the way of all flesh.”

He saw movement from the door and turned. He saw you talk to Thibault amiably, handing him a cup of tea and plate of biscuits and ushering him to one side of the sitting room. You helped your maid bring over the tea set to them and once it was all done, you shooed her to sit beside the captain.

“I took the liberty of having Cook feed the guards, the coachmen, and the footmen.” You announced as you poured the tea. “Father, I hope you behaved yourself while I was away.”

“I am always behaved, mon petit. When had I not been?” The man asked, faking affront.

You tutted, passing him a cup. “I shall not answer that because we will have a long discussion of it and the day would be too short before we reach a conclusion.” You poured another cup and passed it on to Kit.

Kit took it gladly and sipped.

“Tell me of what you had been doing in the palace, mon petit,” your father urged with a soft smile.

Taking your seat beside your husband, you went on to tell your father of your days spent in the palace. Kit listened at your animated retelling, smiling and laughing at some of your anecdotes. He watched as you came to life in your home. While you were lively in the palace—he often regarded you as his personal sunshine—you were extra joyful in the comforts of your home. You were uninhibited in the way you moved about the place.

When you had taken him to meet the staff who had cared for you when you were growing up, he found them looking at you with love and familiarity and not that of fear and politeness. They all had good words and stories about you. It was evident you saw them as family and not hired help.

You then went to the library and showed him of the novelties you had brought home from your travels. There were memories attached to each one of them and he learned of it as he walked around your favorite place in your home.

“And this,” you said as you stood before a portrait of a woman. “This is the little shrine my father made in my mother’s memory.”

He saw the little trinkets that were placed below the portrait. “I take it you talk to her whenever you’re here?”

You nodded. “Not just here. Even at the palace, I talk with her every night. She knows of you and of us. I tell her everything.”

He turned to the painting, seeing how there were resemblances between you and your mother, and bowed. “Madam. Good day.”

“What are you doing?” you asked beside him.

He smiled at you. “I’m talking to your mother.”

“Kit—”

“You talked to mine. I think it fair that I talk with yours.” He took your hand and squeezed it. He began again when he returned to the painting. “Your daughter might have incessantly talked about me with you, madam—”

You chuckled lightly at his statement but did not deny it. He grinned wider as he went on.

“—but allow me to introduce myself to you. My name is Kit. I am your daughter’s husband, as perhaps, you may have already known. I hope you are doing well, wherever you are now.

“Y/N is wonderful, madam. She is good and courageous and kind. If we had not been married, I believe I would still seek her because I know she is my perfect half. There is no one else for me than her. I shall take good care of her, madam. There is no need for you to worry about her.

“Have I mentioned how brilliant she is? She cares for the people. While she is a princess, she does not think herself one and she treats everyone with fairness and respect. I confess I had never seen someone be like her. She is special and I am lucky to have been the one she was accidentally married to. Quite coincidentally, I am in deeply in love with her as well.”

He heard a small gasp come out of you. He smiled and squeezed your hand.

“Oh, Kit,” you whispered his name but it was loud for him to hear clearly. “I am deeply in love with you too.”

He did not know how long he stood there, just staring at your mother’s portrait. He heard the words, dreamt about them countless of times, and now, now that you had said them out loud, he was surprised. Stunned into silence. He could not move his body. He couldn’t even form thoughts in his head. He just stood there stupidly, completely amazed to finally hear those words he so longed to hear.

Then he felt the violent beating of his heart. Heard it thundering in his ears. His body suddenly felt warm, his hand more so and it was only then when he registered what had happened, and that he was still holding your hand firmly in his.

You were deeply in love with him.

As deep as he was with you.

You loved him.

You loved him!

He turned to you, to your love-struck face, and brought your hand to his mouth. Eyes still on you, he turned it over and placed a reverent, adoring kiss on your palm.

“My heart is in your hands, Y/N. Do with it what you will,” he whispered achingly.

Your gaze softened as he put your hand against his cheek and kept it there. You gave him a loving smile as your eyes shone with unshed tears. He felt the pad of your thumb across his cheek.

“I want your heart,” you told him. “I want you.”

He groaned at your admission. He pulled you closer and placed his forehead against yours. “You must know, my princess, that I fought you. I fought for us.”

“Oh, Kit…”

“I did it because I love you.” he said. He pulled away ever so slightly and tipped your chin up to look into your eyes. “I love you, Y/N.”

He caught the tear that ran down your cheek. You gave him a teary smile.

“I love you, Kit. I truly do.” you whispered softly to him.

“I’ll talk to Father when we return to the palace,” he told you, his voice steely with renewed determination. “I will tell him I will have no one else but you. It is only you I want.”

“But—”

“And if he disagrees, then I am left with no choice. We will run away together.”

You caressed his cheek once more, shaking your head slightly. “Oh, Kit. You mustn’t do that to your father. I’m only me.”

“You are the other half of my soul, Y/N. Without you, I am incomplete. I cannot be without you.”

“Kit…”

“If I have to give up the throne, I will.”

“You mustn’t.”

“I will.”

You shook your head. “I cannot ask you to do that because of me. You will always have me, my prince. Come what may,” you vowed.

Your lips were warm and soft against his when he bent down to kiss you. You tasted of honey and lemon, of love and longing. He groaned when you pressed closer to him, closing any distance there was between the two of you. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist to draw you flat against him. His tongue darted to meet yours when you opened your silken lips and you mewled at the contact. The sound sent a different buzz of excitement down his body.

He kissed you feverishly, ardently, with a fervor he did not know he possessed. Your hand came up his hair and ran it through, mussing it. His hand went up to your braid and pulled at it, giving him access to kiss you more. A deep sound emitted from him throat when you whimpered. You brought out everything in him that he was unaware he had. You were magical and perfect and wonderful. You were his.

He was yours.

He was yours to undo.

Someone cleared their throat.

You broke contact first, pulling away and turning from the sound. Kit cleared his own throat and ran a hand down his hair, taming it. He looked at who had intruded on your heated moment and found Thibault standing by the door.

“Yes, Captain?” Kit called and cleared his throat again. “Is there something you need?”

There was a subtle smile on the Captain’s face. Kit felt himself returning it.

“Your Royal Highnesses, we must leave if we wish to arrive by dinner.” he said.

“Yes,” you said beside him. “Of course.”

“Shall we go say goodbye to your father?” Kit asked.

He saw you compose yourself before heading out of the library. He followed closely behind you, giving Thibault a discreet smile of success when he passed by the man, and went on to say his farewells to your father.

“Father, we must return to the palace,” Kit heard you announce when you entered the sitting room.

Your father stood from his seat and walked over to you, enveloping you in another embrace. “I shall miss you, mon petit. Take good care of yourself.”

“You too, Father. I shall miss you. Do not misbehave or I will ask the housekeeper to write to me whenever you do.” You kissed his cheek and broke away from him, returning to Kit’s side.

Your father chuckled. “I am always behaved, Y/N.”

Kit bowed at the man. “It was an honor to meet you, Sir.”

The prince felt himself being helped up and into a hug. He was surprised by it but he let himself be embraced by the old man, even returning the action.

“Take care of my daughter,” he whispered in the young man’s ear.

“I will,” Kit promised and stepped away.

The return trip was spent in silence again but this time, the air was charged with a different emotion. With Abigail present, he could only do so much. So he took your hand in his and kept them both out of your maid’s eyes and under the folds of your skirt. You looked at him when he did and smiled that beautiful, loving smile. Every so often, he would caress his thumb against your skin and he would feel you do the same.

“Let us go to Father’s,” Kit said as he helped you down the carriage once you arrived. “We must tell him.”

“Now?” you asked. You were yet to retrieve your hand from his.

“I don’t see why not,” he grinned.

He led you to the Great Study, steps hurried as he could not wait any longer to make his plea known. His father may be stubborn but once he saw how madly in love he was with you as you were with him, he knew he wouldn’t deny him anymore of his happiness. His parents were happy. It would be unfair of his father to not wish for the same for him.

The doors to the Great Study flung open at his command and he strode towards his father at the other end of it. The king and the Grand Duke looked up from their parchment in surprise.

“Kit! We have received word.” The king said, rising from his seat.

Kit was single-minded in what he wanted and wasted no time in making it known to them. “Father, there is something I must tell you—"

“The Magistrate has granted your divorce.”

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The Accidental Princess (Part 1)

Prince Kit x Reader

Summary: A contract has been found, after twenty years, bearing your name and Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Word Count: ~3.4k words

Warnings: lots of ye olde words (maybe they sound pretty cringe??) period-typical misogyny?? that's it???

A/N: Hi, everyone! Yep, I am still on hiatus so updates for this one wouldn't be regular. This is supposed to be a Cinderella 2015 ff but I think the story feels too straightforward so I took some liberties with this one. I'm still using some characters and there will be new ones. It's a pretty different fic compared to Snapshot and Savior. It's a hUGE departure from it. I appreciate your comments and thoughts about this. I'd like to hear whatever it is you have to say about it: from the cringe ye olde words to the period-typical misogyny to the whole chapter if you find it confusing, etc. Not beta'd still so all mistakes are mine. Here is The Accidental Princess! (title subject to change)

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |

Once upon a time, there was a girl who accidentally married the prince.

That would have been a story to be told for ages, you thought wryly to yourself.

You had met The Brothers Grimm before during one of your travels with your father to the far away land of Prussia. They were an odd sort; old men who you would have never thought to have been the author of the short tales you loved reading as a child. There were semblances of them in their stories, if one judged a person by their looks. Stories of beautiful beginnings followed by sorrow and dread. After all, not every once upon a time ended with a happy ever after.

I wonder how they would have written my story, you thought to yourself as you stood before the king.

You had been summoned to the palace the moment your ship had docked into your home kingdom’s port. There was no preamble as to why you were wanted; they only loaded you into the carriage and had presented you to your monarch without so much as a change of clothing. You were not vain but it would do well to be wearing the proper attire when meeting the king. Instead, you had met him in your leather breeches and your silk dress shirt, which in itself was scandalous, but not as scandalous as knowing the reason why you were there.

“You see, my son is to marry the Grand Duke’s niece but we find ourselves in an unusual predicament,” said the king as he stood from his throne.

You had no voluminous skirt to tuck your hands into when you were nervous. Instead, you only clenched them at your front, holding on to them like a lifeline.

“My secretary has found a marriage certificate binding you and my son in matrimony.” The king said as he stood before you. The king was an old man, stooping now but it did not dampen the commanding aura he had about him. “You had been married to my son for twenty years.”

That would have made you a child of six when you got married but you could not remember anything as far as that. Or anything at all involving a ceremony where you and the prince had been proclaimed married. Surely, there must have been a mistake.

You cowered a little, stepping backward as discreetly as you can. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but it seems I have no idea of this certificate of which you speak.”

“Insolent child!” cried the Grand Duke. He was a stocky-looking man with a shock of blond hair that extended to his jaw and a moustache that twirled on its ends. There was something antagonistic about him. But then again, it was his niece the prince was promised to and he had every right to call you names for your ignorance of the matter.

“My apologies, Grand Duke,” you curtsied.

“Tell me your name once again, child,” commanded the king.

You stood again, keeping your head low in respect for the monarch and said your name.

“If you are who you say you are, then it must be you who signed this contract.” The king waved over a footman and took the scroll from him, unravelling it for you to see.

You looked it over and stopped as you saw the familiar scrawling of your name. It was definitely by your hand when you were six. It was a mess of letters but was discernible enough for them to read your name. Beside it was Prince Kit’s inscription, no better than yours but still enough to be recognized as the kingdom’s future monarch’s writing.

The wax seal between your names brought back a dormant memory.

You watched closely as your father, the king’s diplomat, pour hot wax on the lower part of the parchment. It was a rich blue with gold flecks, a symbol of your country’s opulence. You were always curious as to why he did that ritual of pouring wax and laying his ring on top of it after having both men sign the paper. You had asked him what it was for.

“It is a promise, Y/N,” your father had replied as he took off his signet ring and placed it sigil-down on the paper.

“Like friendship, papa?” you had asked in your small, excitable voice.

Your father had chuckled. “Of a sort. This paper is a memory of that friendship with our country and this country’s king.”

“Can I do it with my friends, papa?” You watched with curious eyes, taking note of the written contents on the piece of parchment even if you were unable to read. It was no matter; your papa will teach you. You were eager to employ this newfound knowledge and practice with your future friendships.

“Of course, mon petit. I shall have to teach you how to write your name so you can sign your promise.”

You had remembered the process. First, your father took a scroll from his sheaf of papers. He signed his name first, then the ambassador. They shook hands. Your father poured hot wax and placed his sigil on the promise then placed it on a different sheaf of papers.

Oh, no.

You recalled the moment. You had visited the palace with your father and he had let you play around the grounds while he conducted business with the king. You found the Prince Kit in the garden alone and approached him with the idea of trying out your newfound way of sealing friendships. You had not realized you plucked a marriage certificate from the Great Study, because, truly, all of your father’s contracts were one and the same and you had assumed as much for all the papers. You had innocently scrawled your name, taking good care in spelling it right as your father had told you. The prince had done the same and with your father’s signet, you sealed your—and the prince’s—fate.

“You recognize it then,” said the king as he snatched the offending paper away.

“Your Majesty—”

“You ambitious girl!” cried the Grand Duke once more and you shut your mouth immediately.

“Grand Duke.” There was a warning edge to the king’s tone. He turned to you once more. “You recognize this certificate.”

“It was not my intention to bind myself in marriage to the prince, Sir.” You swallowed. “My father introduced contracts to me as a way of keeping friendship. As a child of six, I did not know of diplomacy or the legitimacies of binding contracts nor the numerous different kinds of it. I only took the paper as I had assumed all were one and the same. I signed my name and had the prince sign his and stamped it with my father’s signet that he had me hold for safekeeping. I did not know that any agreement signed by the prince and sealed with the royal stamp would be legally binding even at so young an age.”

The silence that echoed in the throne room stretched on. Your boots scraped on the marble floor and you were once again reminded that you were not fit to be presented in front of the king. Women , even common folk, were expected to be in dresses and long skirts. You shunned the article of clothing whenever you were travelling the waters, finding breeches, shirts, and practical boots better than the full hoops of the skirt that often got in the way whenever you walked down the deck of the ship. The sailors were used to seeing you in this garb and did not find it offending at all that you were not dressed like a lady but to the eyes of the king and the Grand Duke and perhaps the many a footman you had passed before entering the throne room, you looked positively bohemian.

“We will keep you in the palace, Y/N,” said the king, which made you look up at him again.

Evidently, the news shocked the Grand Duke as well because he turned to the monarch.

“We will keep you in the palace until we find a solution to this impasse.”

“Of course, Sir,” you only muttered because what else was there to say?

“Surely, you understand the delicacy of this matter. I would not have you proclaiming to the people you are the new princess—or rather, had been their princess for near two decades already.”

You were affronted but you did not show it. You had no right to show indignation towards the king.

“In here, you are contained. You shall still be free to roam the palace grounds as you please but we will not have you out of it. If so, you shall have a chaperone and we would be informed of your itinerary.”

You merely nodded. You were a creature of adventure; the very notion of being confined within palace grounds was comparable to having your wings clipped. But you had started this problem, Y/N, and you must pay for your childish ignorance, you thought to yourself.

You were to set sail with your family again to meet with more foreign dignitaries. It had been your life; travelling from one kingdom to another. You had learned of cultures and languages, of food and dance, and everything it was that you could ever beheld. Your tiny kingdom was beautiful but the world beyond held more possibilities that you never once thought was within your grasp.

Oh, how you would have wanted to walk your father’s footsteps as the kingdom’s new diplomat. You learned from the best; your father had made you his apprentice and had taught you everything he knew of his trade. People still underestimated you. It was unheard of for someone from the fairer sex to be an ambassador, so you never truly tried. You only acted as an adviser to your father within the confines of his office walls, honing your innate talent of persuasion and diplomacy.

“Since I am common folk,” you started, not realizing that you had addressed the king before he addressed you. “Your Majesty, since I am common folk, my presence in the palace will arouse suspicion.”

“It is all being taken care of. My sister’s children will be arriving soon and you shall pose as a guest with them.” He nodded to himself, satisfied with his idea. “You were merely early in your arrival.”

“I would need my trunks with me, Your Majesty. I have arrived empty-handed.”

He looked you from your hair to your boots. “Are all your clothes thus?”

You straightened. “No, Sir. This is what I wear when I am travelling the seas. I do not find it practical to wear a skirt whilst I am on deck and the tides are high.”

“Ah, yes. You travel with your father as he is one of my diplomats. How is he?” He started making his way back to his throne.

“My father is well, I thank you for asking, Your Majesty.” You took a deep breath and watched him. You wiped your palms against your leather breeches.

“You shall send for a missive for your trunks. I cannot have you leaving the palace so soon after we have talked.”

You nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“You may go.”

You curtsied again. “My king,” you genuflected at the monarch before doing the same to the Grand Duke. “Your Grace.”

You stepped backwards, keeping the front of your body towards the king as you slowly went out of the throne room. Once the doors had closed, you blew out a sigh and straightened, only to knock against someone behind you. You turned and gasped, rooted in place.

It was the prince. Prince Kit with his dark hair and intense eyes. He had grown handsome over the years, which shouldn’t surprise you because his father had been a handsome man when he was younger. Kit—were you allowed to address him as Kit in your mind?—had a set look on his face, a bit reminiscent of his father’s gaze as he watched you. Broad of shoulder and fit of body, his muscled legs were encased in tight white breeches and his coat brought out the color of his eyes. They were as blue as the sea and as clear as the sky.

Your husband. What an absurd notion!

“Steady,” he said as he held you by your arms.

You swallowed. As much as you wanted to look away, you cannot. His gaze held you, searching your eyes and quite frankly, perhaps even your soul. Even if you had nothing to hide, you were scared of the things he would find there. Like the matter of you being bound to him in marriage.

Your heart skipped a beat. It had nothing to do with you being nervous at him finding out about your accidental ploy of being married to him but more with the fact that you had never been looked at like how he was looking at you before. Your appearance was unkempt and you had not been able to properly re-braid your hair but something about his stare made you feel like you were much more beautiful than you truly look. He made you feel emotions not even the best of the world could offer and for the life of you, you didn’t know why.

Your knees buckled and you bent down in an ungraceful curtsy. “Your Highness,” you said with a shaky breath. “My apologies.”

“Ah, Kit! I thought the hunt would have run you ragged.” You heard the king as the door opened.

You felt someone grasp at your arm to pull you to your full height and away from the king and the prince. You looked at the prince once more, only to find him looking back at you as well.

Kit was, for all intents and purposes, an apprentice. His whole life he was schooled to be the next king of his father’s kingdom. He was taught to be a soldier to know of battle strategies. He had masters who taught him philosophies and history. He was knowledgeable in at least three languages because his parents had insisted he learn two more so he can converse with more people. He was, essentially, an apprentice monarch. And a king, even one still learning the trade, needed a queen.

Which brought him to the matter at hand. His father had promised his hand to the Grand Duke’s niece, a princess from Zaragoza. He had never met her before and was only sent a portrait that he and his father had looked at and deemed her beautiful. Her country was bountiful and their little territory needed to expand its borders. Marrying a princess from a rich country was the correct step in ensuring the best for the kingdom. It was what his father had done when he married Kit’s mother. It was fortunate that his parents had fallen in love despite the circumstances of how they met.

“I was not aware the Princess Chelina is arriving today,” Kit asked as he pried his eyes away from your retreating figure.

It was unusual for him to see a princess not in their finest clothes , either, especially one from a country that was advertised to him as bountiful and rich. He had no qualms, however, about seeing you in such a state. Clad in what was most likely your undergarments, you were a small person than what your portrait let on. You came only until his nose and even then, you still seemed tinier. Your legs were enclosed in buckskin leather, much like his own when he went hunting, and it made him wonder if maybe you hunted as well. You wore a dress shirt that was tucked in the waistband of your breeches and it accentuated your rounded hips. You wore none of those heeled shoes he knew ladies favored. Instead, you feet were clad in flat boots that went up to your knees and showcased your perfect calves. Albeit you were dressed inappropriately, it did not escape him that you were dressed practically. And sensually, he thought to himself.

You were beautiful in your portrait but in person, you were exquisite. The painter failed to capture the smattering of freckles across your nose or the hints of lightness on your hair. There was a small scar on the side of your cheek that he did not notice when he beheld your picture; perhaps the painter found it wise to not include the blemish lest it deterred him from making an offer of marriage to you, even if it was not his idea to be wed to you.

“Heavens, no. I would never associate myself with that–that thing.” The Grand Duke said, looking at your back in what could only be termed as disgust.

Kit raised a brow. So, you were not the princess. “I would assume that thing would have a name and a purpose?” He looked over at his father. “Father?”

“Walk with me, boy,” was all the king said. “Thank you, Grand Duke. We do not need you in this talk.”

Kit followed his father down the Hall of Portraits. He remembered his lessons of his family’s history, of the important people who had changed the laws and lives of many. King Alphonse. Queen Mariam. Queen Amalie, his mother. He knew it best not to dwell on his mother’s untimely death around his father, who he knew was still mourning her. She had left them so suddenly and they both had not been the same ever since. It did, however, brought them closer.

“Kit,” his father started as they arrived in the garden. “There is a matter I wish for you to know.”

Rarely did his father venture this far into the garden. His mother had kept a small alcove for her personal use, locked away but still kept clean by the royal gardener. Kit often went there when he needed a time for himself. His father did not.

“Yes, father?” Kit asked, watching his father closely as he sat.

“You are promised to Princess Chelina,” he said, to which Kit nodded. “But there is a small matter we must address before you wed her.”

He raised a brow. “Does she not want to be wed?”

“She wishes to be wed to you, Kit. However, we find ourselves at a loss for something you have done twenty years ago.” He patted the space beside him at the bench and Kit sat.

Twenty years ago? He would have been eight by then.

“Are we bringing up old sins, father? Because if we are, I do not remember what I had done at eight years old that would bear remembering.”

“My boy,” the king clasped his son on the shoulder. It was a fatherly touch but also that of a king, a touch that brooked no argument.

“You are already married.”

Kit frowned. Married? Surely, he has not signed anything akin to a marriage agreement.

“Married? I don’t remember meeting the Princess Chelina or signing a marriage contract.”

“It is because you are not married to the Princess of Zaragoza.” The king sighed wistfully. “You had been married for two decades, Kit.”

“Father, I must ask you to speak plainly. I’m married for two decades? And not to the Princess Chelina? Then who am I married to?”

“My boy.” The king looked over at one of the many rooms of the palace. Kit followed the line of his sight and found that he was staring at you. You, in your unusual clothes, watching the sea from your room.

“You have been married to a commoner, to Y/N Y/L/N, since you were eight.”

Y/N. The name sounded familiar to him. And then he knew. He remembered; the girl he had invited inside his mother’s secret garden and had played with under his favorite tree. You had brought a paper to him—a promise of friendship, you had said—and he signed it with no hesitation.

“Y/N is that girl you thought was the Princess Chelina, my boy. And she is your wife.”

He looked at the lone figure inside the palace again.

He was married to you.