AU!Young!Squire!Steve Harrington x Princess!Reader
Summary: The story of the princess and her Harrington knight starts here.
Warning: Stranger Things-Game of Thrones inspired Universe, but not much to look out for, I suppose.
Point of View: Third (She/Her)
a/n: This will be part of the short stories I made of Knight Steve Harrington. I can't promise it will be too many. I made half-written drafts after drafts of Knight Steve x Princess. I just happened to finish this one early. I tried my best with the chaos going around irl XD I hope you like it anyway.
Word Count: 1250 words
Inspiration: DnD/Fantasy AU version of Stranger Things Characters (I made a poll before because I came across a post of DnD version of Nancy and Jonathan somewhere on another platform, and I cannot find it now.) Here's the link to the original poll.
Main Masterlist
The kingdom was at war with an otherworldly creature summoned by an evil wizard. Laying curses throughout the realm that its people lived in constant fear, whispering stories unproven just to find something to blame. Some said the princess was cursed, for every knight who had ever served her was either sickly or had died. The seven-year-old princess was left with no friends because of such a rumour.
The night was dark and colder than most nights then. The princess shivered as she held her doll close. She tried to sleep for hours, but she could not, for the wind had blown through the chimney of her bedchamber and the warm stones under the feet of her blanket were no longer warm.
With an effort, she climbed down the bed too high for her to climb back up with no aid. With her doll in her grip, she walked to her door. When she opened it, she saw the guard had fallen asleep, lying on the floor. How can anyone sleep in this weather? She thought to herself before tiptoeing out of the room. Her light steps easily took her to the other side of the corridor without waking the guard.
She had thought she would be free by the time she turned to another corridor, but the sight she witnessed froze her. She saw something moving behind the shadow on the other part of the corridor. Startled by it, she clutched her doll and brought it closer to her chest.
She wished to go anywhere else but her own room, yet curiosity got the best of her. She stood. Observing. Thinking, making guesses that it might have been rats, as it made such squeaks.
Then the thing in the shadow made another movement followed by a faint growl. She took a nervous step back, only to meet a cold sensation under her bare feet. When she lifted one of her feet up, she could finally see a messy, slimy substance. Only then she realised that the carpet had trails like so all over and she missed it the first time.
Just when her attention had gone back to the shadows, a fat worm-like creature crawled out of it. She observed it just a little bit closer and thought of it as looking like those of baby frogs. Tadpoles, she remembered reading about it in her book.
She took just one more step closer to the creature when a hand grabbed hers. Her head darted to see the person and found a taller boy putting one finger on his lips and hushing her. He whispered, “Step back very slowly, princess.”
She was about to ask why when a growl sound followed, coming from the end of the corridor. She did not dare to look, so she listened to the boy. Her now trembling feet are trying to navigate themselves.
Tis’ alright, princess. Just look at me, the boy said again.
But then, the sound of the storm strikes and echoes throughout the castle’s walls.
The creature becomes hostile. It started to run up to them.
“Run, princess! Run!” The boy shouted as he pulled her. They started sprinting frantically, so that even the guard who was asleep in front of the princess’s door awoke. He saw the boy and the princess run past him. He called out for them before the creature attacked him.
The princess looked back and started whimpering.
“Don’t! Let it be. Just focus on me!” Warned the boy.
It is only after they ran the flight of stairs that they were found by the Kingsguard.
Throughout the entire ordeal, he stayed with her. She clung to his shirt the entire time before the guards were able to catch the creature.
When the King and his sworn knight found them both sitting on the castle’s floor, he knew this would be either a gift or an omen. For no one has ever been able to protect the princess from those creatures and survive without a scratch but one boy.
A boy no older than ten named Steven “Steve” Harrington. The boy’s father just presented this morning. Hoping him to train as one of the serving knights’ squire.
The King walked towards them both. Little Steve took a glance at his father, who had been the King’s sworn knight, but the man only backed away from him even further. And as he did, the King came close and stopped in front of them. Steve looked at the princess cowering away and hiding behind him.
“I expect she’d be able to save herself at this age. Shame,” he said about his own daughter. “There goes the gold I paid the Magus.”
Steve wished he could complain. The princess is very young, and yet she survived. Even grown men often cower at the sight of that creature. He told the King in the princess’s defence. “The princess has been nothing but very brave, your grace. I saw it myself.”
Then, the King looked him deep in the eye. He could not tell if it was an oncoming storm or a mere deep thought, but the King’s sharp eyes made him the only other man he ever scared of more than his father.
The King huffed and spoke one more time before he left, “Train better and grow, then your father will finally have something to be proud of, little knight.”
Little Ser Harrington.
When they were finally out of sight, he turned to the princess. He realised she no longer had her grip on him. She swept away her tears. Trying to make it seem like she was not crying at all. When she was finally done, she looked up to him. Despite her effort, the tears kept falling as she whispered her mind. “I do not wish to go back to my chamber.”
He bent himself to her level. “But princess, you must have some rest.”
She doesn’t say a word, but her fidgeting hand shows a degree of hesitation.
Then it dawned on him how much of the weight of expectation she must have borne He sometimes goes back to the village to visit his mother and his friends. Each time he heard new rumours about the monarch. One of them is the princess being cursed and followed by an omen. Thus, the reason the Magus was ever called upon to their kingdom. Little Steve has never been one to believe in rumour, especially about such an innocent, terrified girl. Perhaps he did just a little bit. Wondering if it is all true what his friend had said. But the most he noticed about her is that they both have something in common.
Fathers who are not the most open with affection have high expectations.
“I will let no harm come to you, princess,” he promised, which the little girl answered with a hug. Something stirred in him. He noticed how much shorter she is compared to him, that her little hand wrapped around his waist, and her head only reached his chest. He then hugged her back, ignoring any and every rule.
He led her to her chamber right after they told them the hall was finally cleared. Another grown knight assigned to guard the princess’s chamber told Steve to leave. Yet he insisted on staying. He insisted that the door be left a little open so that, to her request, he could stand where she could see him that night and for the nights to come.
fandoms would be a lot more peaceful if more people told themselves “okay but it’s fiction and it doesn’t affect me or anybody in real life in any way, shape or form, and I can just block, mute, scroll past it as I please” every time they saw something they didn’t like on the internet
This is our brand new science fiction adventure character, he's a scientist and an old man. He's in a TV show called Doctor Who. He's credited as Dr Who. All production documents call him Dr Who. All promotional material calls him Dr Who. The novel adaptations call him Dr Who. The movie adaptations call him Dr Who. The original tie-in fiction calls him Dr Who. And week one of his TV show he's going to meet a guy who's like "What's your name? What do we call you?" and our hero is going to be like "hohoho hehehe you dumb motherfucker. Never talk to me again." And then he's never ever going to give anyone his goddamn name.
i miss you 2012 avengers. i miss you the avengers tower. i miss you irondad and spiderson. i miss you meme lord shuri and peter. i miss you loki lingering in the tower for no other reason than that he's the main love interest. i miss you poptart-eating thor. i miss you grumpy bucky barnes. i miss you old man, chronically offline steve rogers. i miss you clint in the vents. i miss you girls night with wanda and natasha. i miss you resurrected, shamelessly flirty pietro. i miss you clueless, socially inept vision. i miss you the rare bruce banner feature. i miss you sassy sam wilson. i miss you cheeky reader who always called fury by his first name. i miss you super nanny phil coulson. i miss you christmas avengers blurbs in the middle of the fanfiction written by an autistic 14 year old. i miss you 😔😔😔
Warning: Targaryens being Targaryens, Angst, implied depression (and everything that follows). This is an AU where Aemond survives the Dance of the Dragons and Grey Ghost is claimed. (Basically… typical changes in a fanfic, right?)
Point of View: Third (Using Y/N)
Song: Beauty and the Beast - Evermore
Main Masterlist
'Evermore' Mini-Series Masterlist
Next Chapter
A guard’s feet led him to the other wing of the palace. Fulfilling the task that requires him to fetch his lady’s son for training. His steps were firm and sure as he knew too well where the son might be. Yet upon hearing a sniffle coming from a hallway turn he had just passed. He carefully took a peek at the source and found another princeling instead. He decided to ask if he could be of assistance. “My prince… is there something troubling you?”
The prince only shook his head.
Then the guard remembered what had occurred before. The princeling had been constantly teased for not having a dragon like other princes in his family. “An ugly feeling that is.”
The guard kneeled to the prince, offering a handkerchief. “Weep not, my prince. You may yet be blessed with a dragon, but dragon’s blood runs in your veins. There are years ahead of you and plenty of dragons await.”
The prince did not take the handkerchief, but he nodded as he wiped his tears away with his sleeves. He then ran off in the other direction and went about his days.
-----
Aemond had thought he did it for her, but he only did it for himself. He thought that sending her away to whoever would take her hand would make it easier for him to forget about her. Knowing her miles away, with a life that would keep her away from this damned tower, gives him peace of mind. But what happened next was never part of the plan.
It does not take too long for Aemond to recognise a pattern in the guards who are assigned to protect the tower. Initially, he thought they would send just about any guard. It turns out, there is a pattern. They might not be a knight exactly, but they are chosen carefully. Plucked from Targaryen’s personal hire. Someone who came from serving Targaryens for years, or at least the ones who follow the Blacks specifically. He remembered seeing some of them long ago when Rhaenyra’s household was still residing within the Red Keep. Some of them had lingered around Rhaenyra’s younglings as they trained with him and his brother.
New guards are sent out to guard the tower every few weeks. Never long enough for Aemond to know them. Despite the knowledge, he never truly bothered to get to know them. The things that all the guards cared enough about him, also, was to realise how well Aemond’s bed is kept when he is not sleeping on it. Other than that, all they cared is how to amuse themselves in that dull tower.
Aemond spent most of his time writing words his loved ones will never receive. He thought it would distract him from the fact that he would spend however long the rest of his life is in this rotten tower. It works… for a long while.
But nothing lasts forever. Things change. Him included.
At first, no one realised that the stack of papers Aemond had written grew less and less in number each time they tried to take it away.
Until that day. The last day of a guard’s day in the tower. The guard stepped on a ship harboured on the island. All alone. Waiting for the sailors who would take him away from the island. He sat himself on one of the barrels on the dock. Taking a relieving breath, he would finally be away from that island and that ugly tower. He let the salty smell of the ocean relax him. Freed him from the dust and moss of the tower. He took a deeper breath to celebrate his tiny victory, just like he did a few years before when he had first chosen to guard the broken Prince. The thought of staying in the tower forever made him sick. He convinced himself that there is nothing he would be missing from this post. He would gladly be back to where people actually are.
Except perhaps, the curious feeling of finding out what difference the broken Prince has these days. He thought to himself how time is fleeting. How far has he come, coming from a humble background and now, to be trusted to guard an enemy? An enemy who had once, when he saw, cried out upon being mocked for not having a dragon. The same little boy who stood firm with tears of blood streaming down from his right eye. He might have been guarding an enemy, but he could not help but feel sorry for the boy behind the prince.
He shook all thoughts away. I shall not sympathise with a villain, he thought to himself. Then again.. aren’t we all?
All is well until a gush of wind passes him. Like a revelation coming from the gods, the wind brought a piece of paper to his face. He pulled it away in anger, crumpled it and threw it to the wooden floor before him. He sighed heavily, throwing his hand in the air. Then he noticed something. He saw his fingers tainted with the colour black. It is an ink stain on the paper. Whoever wrote it didn’t have the patience to wait, he thought. He searches for the paper again.
When he found it, he carefully uncrumpled the piece of parchment. He squinted, he turned it upside down. Trying to recognise the ruined written words a little bit better. Most of the words were scratched and unrecognisable, but if there’s one thing that surprises him, it is the lines he could figure out. My word, he thought to himself upon reading it, perhaps the madness took him after all. So once again, he flipped it all over. He keeps trying to figure out who it is addressed to. Even when he knew he should never bother to give an interest.
Then, upon figuring out the name written on it, he looks at the gap in the tall tower in which the prince is locked up.
For whom?
He pitied himself for seeing this prince as anything else but a villain. He is among the small number of people who would see a boy behind the war criminal. A lonely boy with eyes so empty in ways more than one. His existing eyes no longer show the sign of presence. Floats somewhere better than where he stands. His empty eye socket no longer holds the Sapphire he once held tight to give him some sense of pride. Something to tell him that it is all worth the loss. The supposedly empty eye socket is now… empty.
The guard remembered one thing. A few days before, he opened the door to the Sapphire prince lurking in the corner with a piece of paper and an ink-dried feather in his hand. Tapping it repeatedly in between writing words. He approached with a tray of food for him. He tried to call his name to get his attention, but the prince’s eyes cannot go further than the edge of the paper. The guard stood for a good while before putting the tray down on the floor beside the messy table. He tried to call him one more time. He whispered, “Your food is getting colder. Why don’t you put that paper down and have some of this food, boy?”
The moment the guard said the word ‘boy’, the prince stopped. The guard was sure the prince would launch at being called a boy moments after, yet the next move shocked him even more. The prince said no word. He sat on the ground beside the tray and began to munch on the cold bread and tepid soup in front of him. He didn’t bother to wipe his hand. Aemond no longer bothered to try to make himself, at least, feel decent.
“All is well.” The guard said quietly. “No more wars.”
Surprisingly, the faintest sound voiced out an answer. The guard did not dare to make a sound when Aemond said, “I still have her right here…” he pointed to his head, “and here.” He pointed to his chest. “I have not lost… yet.”
That is how the guard knew the prince was a step closer to insanity.
A week later, the guard arrived at the very castle where the prince’s sanity resides. The only woman whom the prince thought was always there for him. The guard fought his heart with his head. Reminding himself to stay out of trouble. And yet he knew that bringing the piece of paper written by the prince was, in a way, a crime.
So... I came across fanarts of like DnD/Fantasy AU version of Nancy and Jonathan, and I cannot help but wonder what Steve Harrington's role would be and what if I make it a fanfic? It probably won't be heavily based on the characters playing DnD, it's more of an AU where they are part of a medieval-fantasy universe.
In this one, I will make Steve x Female Reader.
So I need your help, you guys.
I narrowed down the options, and it's not specifically DnD class focused, but if you have any notes, you can put them in the comment~
What would Steve Harrington's role be in a Medieval Fantasy? Or rather... what would you want him to be?
Ruler of a Nation (King/Emperor)
A Knight (Of Y/N's kingdom. Might be Princess x Knight)
A Knight (Of a different kingdom. Might be Princess x Knight)
A Villager (Merchant/Palace worker/etc, with Monarch Reader.)
A Sacred Assassin (Styled like Assassin's Creed members)
A Rogue Prince (A second-son styled like Aemond/Daemon Targaryen)
Voting ended onApr 28
You can always add an extra suggestion in the comments ~ I need inspiration!
And for fellow writer/artist, feel free to use the ideas as your own inspiration!
So... I came across fanarts of like DnD/Fantasy AU version of Nancy and Jonathan, and I cannot help but wonder what Steve Harrington's role would be and what if I make it a fanfic? It probably won't be heavily based on the characters playing DnD, it's more of an AU where they are part of a medieval-fantasy universe.
In this one, I will make Steve x Female Reader.
So I need your help, you guys.
I narrowed down the options, and it's not specifically DnD class focused, but if you have any notes, you can put them in the comment~
What would Steve Harrington's role be in a Medieval Fantasy? Or rather... what would you want him to be?
Ruler of a Nation (King/Emperor)
A Knight (Of Y/N's kingdom. Might be Princess x Knight)
A Knight (Of a different kingdom. Might be Princess x Knight)
A Villager (Merchant/Palace worker/etc, with Monarch Reader.)
A Sacred Assassin (Styled like Assassin's Creed members)
A Rogue Prince (A second-son styled like Aemond/Daemon Targaryen)
Voting ended onApr 28
You can always add an extra suggestion in the comments ~ I need inspiration!
And for fellow writer/artist, feel free to use the ideas as your own inspiration!
⟢ PEOPLE DON'T FINISH SENTENCES! IMPORTANT! they interrupt themselves, they trail off, they start talking about eggs and somehow end up confessing their deepest fear about becoming their mother. Your dialogue should derail like a drunk train conductor took the wheel. "I was thinking we could—no wait, did you feed the cat? Because last time you said you would but—actually never mind, what I meant was—" SEE? HUMAN. Beautiful chaos.
⟢ Contractions exist??? USE THEM. Nobody says "I am going to the store" unless they're an alien spy or your grandmother leaving a voicemail. It's "I'm gonna" or even "gonna hit the store" or if they're really casual "store run, back in 20"
⟢ LISTEN TO ME! Said is NOT dead but said is also boring sometimes. Yeah yeah, "said is invisible," the writing teachers chant while burning incense. But you know what? Sometimes people mutter, snap, whisper, drawl, bite out their words. Your character just found out their partner sold their vinyl collection? They're not "saying" anything, they're HISSING like a Victorian ghost
⟢ People repeat themselves when emotional!!! "I can't believe you. I just—I can't believe you did this." Not poetic. Real. That's the point!!!
⟢ Subtext is doing heavy lifting, what people DON'T say matters more than what they do. "Fine" is never fine. "Whatever you want" means "I will remember this betrayal forever." Your readers are smart; let them read between the lines
⟢ Accents/dialects: DO NOT WRITE THEM PHONETICALLY unless you want your book thrown across the room. Do NOT write "Oi guv'na, blimey!", instead show it through word choice, rhythm, syntax. "Right then, what's all this about?" works better than "Wot's awl dis aboot guvnah"
°˖➴ SHOW THE EVIDENCE, not the time!! don't say "three months later" and have everything exactly the same. Show the evidence: the houseplant is dead now, there's a new coffee shop, their hair is longer, the season changed, the relationship shifted
°˖➴ People don't pause their lives!! during your time skip, other characters didn't freeze. They got new jobs, started dating someone, developed opinions, had experiences. When we come back, there should be GAPS in what your POV character knows
°˖➴ Anchor it with a CONCRETE detail!! "The last time she'd been in this room, there'd been snow on the ground. Now the garden outside was screaming with roses." Give the reader something tangible to mark the passage
°˖➴ What DIDN'T happen is interesting!! "Six weeks and still no word from him" or "Another year of birthday candles she didn't make wishes on" sometimes the time skip is defined by absence and waiting
°˖➴ Compress boring stuff, expand important stuff!! "The trial took three months" can be one sentence. But the five minutes after the verdict? That might be three pages. TIME IS ELASTIC in fiction, use it!!!
°˖➴ Characters should FEEL differently about the skip !! time passing changes perspective. Something that felt devastating last year might feel trivial now. Or vice versa. What seemed certain became a mistake. SHOW THE SHIFT
• Eyes flicking to someone’s mouth mid-sentence
• Forgetting what they were about to say
• Leaning in unconsciously
• Mirroring posture without realizing
• Smiling at something that wasn’t that funny
• Adjusting hair or clothes when the other person enters
• Noticing and remembering details no one else bothers to
• A pause before pulling their hand away
• Shoulders softening
• Looking away first and then back again
• Swallowing before speaking
• Voice lowering slightly
• Turning their body fully toward the other person
• A delayed reaction to a touch
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