chapter summary: after years trapped inside the walls of your castle, a royal command places James Potter as your personal guard. unfortunately for him, you have no intention of making his job easy. (5.8k)
tags: princess!reader, childhood friends to strangers, royal family dynamics, palace confinement, mentions of arranged marriage pressures, mentions of animal injury and blood.
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For as long as James could remember, he had known the castle of Valenora like the back of his hand: every corridor, every servants’ passage, the narrow alcove behind the west gallery where no one ever thought to look, and even the small cracks in the marble floors worn smooth by years of footsteps.
He knew the palace not because he belonged to it, though at nine years old he had once desperately wished he did, but because he had grown up inside its walls for as long as he could remember.
His father, Fleamont Potter, had been one of Valenora’s most respected generals. A man whose name carried weight in every barracks and council chamber in the kingdom. Years ago he had fought beside King Edmund at the Battle of Silvercrest, and the story was told often enough that even the servants knew it by heart; Fleamont had saved the King from a striking blade from an enemy.
To James, it had never felt like some distant legend. It was simply the reason the royal family had always treated him a little differently from the other children in the castle. Not quite a prince, of course, but close enough that he had grown up running through the same halls, sitting at the same tables, getting into trouble beside the same princes.
His mother worked there too. Euphemia Potter served as the caretaker and nurse for the royal children, a role that demanded endless patience and gentleness. She had helped bring each of them into the world and had watched over them ever since, tending scraped knees, late night fevers, and every childhood disaster in between. The princes and their youngest sister had become as dear to her as her own son.
James remembered the first time she brought him along. He had been five and a half, small and curious and far too excited to stand still. He could still picture it clearly, the towering columns of the palace courtyard, the golden banners shifting softly in the wind, the sheer size of everything making him feel impossibly small.
After that, the castle simply became part of his life.
He grew up alongside the royal children as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Alaric with his serious expressions even as a boy, Cassian already clever enough to talk his way out of trouble, Elias who went along with every bad idea James suggested, and you, the youngest one among them.
He remembered the games that once filled the corridors: endless hide-and-seek, whispered conspiracies with Alaric and Cassian, pranks that left you incandescent with fury. Chaotic, relentless, but undeniably joyous.
That until your ninth birthday, after that everything changed.
James could trace it back to one specific afternoon in the palace gardens, though for years he tried not to think about it too closely. At the time it had seemed like any other day. The princes had turned the lawns into some ridiculous racecourse, shouting over each other about rules they were making up as they went.
You had been there too, trailing behind them with Maximus, your beloved horse, trotting loyally beside you.
Maximus had been a gift from your parents not long before that. A ridiculous, stubborn little horse that you loved more than anything in the world. You brushed his stupid mane until it shone, fed him apples you stole from the kitchens, and spoke to him constantly like he was capable of offering meaningful life advice.
It might have been cute if Maximus hadn’t absolutely hated James.
For reasons no one understood, that stupid horse had decided early on that James Potter was his sworn enemy. Every time James got within ten feet of him, Maximus would pin his ears back like a demon and try to kick him.
If that didn’t work, he’d chase him around the gardens—Once he even managed to shit directly on James’s boot.
So yeah. Easy to say James and Maximus were not exactly best friends.
Back to the point, somewhere in the mayhem, you and Maximus wandered off.
None of your brothers noticed; they were too busy yelling at each other across the hedges about who had started running before the count finished.
James noticed when he heard a sound beneath the noise of the boys’ voices; an animal’s cry. He slowed, listening again, and when it came a second time he pushed through the hedges toward it, branches snagging his sleeves as he forced his way into the thick brush.
James found you in a small clearing. You were kneeling in the grass, crying quietly, your hands hovering uselessly over Maximus as he lay beside you trembling.
One of his front legs was twisted awkwardly beneath him. A jagged wooden branch had pierced straight through the muscle just below the knee, snapped off from somewhere in the bushes and now stuck there at an awful angle. Blood darkened the grass around him.
James felt his stomach drop. He rushed forward without thinking, already opening his mouth to reassure you and call for help.
Except before James could get a word out, you lifted your hands above the wound, shaking slightly.
And they began to glow.
At first it was faint, just a soft golden shimmer gathering around your palms like sunlight caught in water. James blinked hard, certain his eyes were playing tricks on him. But the light only grew stronger, spilling from your hands in a warm, brilliant glow that wrapped around Maximus’s injured leg.
It was… beautiful.
Magnificent in a way James had never seen before. The golden light pulsed brighter than the afternoon sun, and then the impossible happened; the branch slid cleanly from the wound and fell into the grass. The torn flesh sealed itself together as if it had never been broken. No blood. No scar. No sign that anything had ever been wrong.
Maximus shifted beneath your hands, let out a soft snort, and pushed himself back onto his feet as though nothing had happened at all.
James let out a sharp gasp before he could stop himself. Your head snapped up. For a moment the two of you just stared at each other across the clearing.
The look on your face when you realized he had seen was pure horror.
James wasn’t even sure what he had witnessed. Part of him thought he must have imagined it, that the sun had gotten in his eyes or he’d hit his head running through the bushes. But the broken branch was still lying in the grass, slick with blood that no longer had a wound to belong to.
That day, James ran straight to his mother. He burst into the servants’ wing half out of breath and talking too fast, trying to explain what he had seen you do in the gardens. And for the first and only time in his life, Euphemia Potter lost her temper completely.
She had dragged him back home and screamed at him.
The sound was so sharp it made ten year old James flinch. Her hands gripped his shoulders hard enough to hurt, her face pale in a way he had never seen before. “You must never say that again,” she told him, her voice shaking. “Do you understand me, James? Not to anyone.”
James, being ten and stubborn as hell, immediately argued back. “But it’s amazing!” he insisted, nearly shouting himself. “She could help people. She could save them. Why would you hide something like that?”
That… did not go well for him.
The next day you didn’t come down to the gardens to play with him and your brothers.
Or the day after that.
At first James thought you were just being kept inside for getting caught sneaking out again. It wouldn’t have been the first time. But as the days turned into weeks it became obvious that something else had happened.
You weren’t being kept inside for a few days. You were being kept inside, period.
The king and queen had given the order. The princess was not to be seen. Guards appeared near your chambers, servants stopped mentioning your name entirely, and the tower windows stayed closed more often than not.
That night both Euphemia and Fleamont sat James down and made something very clear. What he had seen in the gardens was not something he was ever allowed to talk about again.
Not to the princes.
Not to the servants.
Not to anyone.
James kept quiet after that. But the castle never quite forgot you. And neither did he.
From then on, whenever James played in the gardens with the princes he would glimpse you watching from the high windows of your room. Your small face pressed to the glass, eyes bright with a longing that felt almost too sad for a child. Every laugh, every chase across the lawns, every clumsy tumble was observed with hunger and determination.
And every time, without fail, you found a way down.
Sometimes you would turn your bedsheets into ropes, tied with improbable skill. Other times you would find a way to unlock doors your attendants swore were locked.
And on the most desperate days—when the boys’ laughter rang too loud and their games looked too fun—you would jump from your window straight into the flowerbeds, reckless and fearless, emerging unscathed except for a stray leaf tangled in your hair. A mystery that never failed to stir James’s curiosity.
At first, he had found it frustrating. Eleven years old, little patience for interruptions. Yet the longer he thought on it, the harder it became to remain irritated. Being the only girl among three roughhousing brothers was difficult enough.
Being locked away on top of that bordered on cruel. And still, you insisted on joining every game. Despite the fact that boys their age liked to play rough. They ran, they climbed, they rolled through dirt and grass—nothing even remotely princess-friendly.
Alaric would usually urge you toward safer pursuits, wary of injury. Cassian would scowl and threaten to report you for escaping your room, yet again. Elias would try to send you back as kindly as possible.
And James, softhearted despite himself, found ways to include you. Even if it was merely retrieving the ball they hurled into the distance like a dog chasing a toy, you seized the task with such joy that it was impossible not to indulge you.
To an outsider, it might have seemed pitiable; locked away, lonely, desperate for attention. But James had known from the beginning that you were anything but helpless.
You were not the delicate, perfect little princess everyone thought you were. Far from it. Where another ten year old girl might whine or beg to be included, you had your own methods of persuasion. Worms in their beds, spiders in their shoes, mysterious insects appearing in their food, and once even a bucket of pond water “accidentally” tipping over a bedroom door.
You had absolutely no shame about it either, standing there with the most innocent look imaginable while your brothers tried to figure out how a slug had ended up inside Elias’ boot. And really, everyone knew you didn’t bluff. If you said you would fill Cassian’s bed with frogs, you meant it.
James had always found you peculiar, a spark that refused definition. You may look like a princess—hand-sewn gowns, ribbons, golden trims, and an expensive crown perched on your head—but your spirit is sharp, untamed, and wholly your own.
In short, your sudden disappearance and the strange secret James had witnessed that day only made his curiosity worse.
Because even with the occasional escape from your tower, even with the brief moments you appeared in the gardens like nothing had changed, one truth remained.
James Potter might have known every hallway, hidden passage, and ridiculous rule inside the castle of Valenora. But the one thing he didn’t know at all was the princess who lived inside it.
Now, years later, twenty years old and working as a royal guard, James makes his way toward the throne room, summoned by King Edmund for reasons that remain completely unclear. When James steps into the throne room and hears someone shouting at the king, he expects many things.
What he does not expect is to find the princess in a violet gown, shouting at the Queen with such fiery force that even the guards flinch back.
Shouting at the fucking Queen.
You whirl, gown swirling like liquid flame, fury carved across your face so sharply that James instinctively steps back. Your eyes sweep over his uniform, recognition flashing in your eyes as you narrow at him. It’s as if the sight of him makes you, if possible, even more furious.
“I do not want a personal knight!” you scream. “Mother, I refuse this absurdity. I refuse him. I refuse all of it!”
Queen Helena straightens on her throne, jaw tightening. “You do not have the privilege to refuse royal decree. Your safety has been compromised twice this month alone.”
“That’s because you refuse to let me breathe,” you fire back instantly. “Why can’t you just add more guards to the castle? You already have half the kingdom standing in the halls. I’m not even allowed to leave my own chambers most days, and now you want to assign someone to follow me around like a damn puppy?”
Queen Helena rises. “Language.”
James watches you roll your eyes so hard he’s sure for a second you saw your own brain back there.
The Queen’s presence alone quiets the room. She rarely raises her voice, which somehow makes her more terrifying when she speaks. “You will accept this,” she says calmly. “The court watches everything you do. Wandering the castle alone is reckless.”
You laugh, harsh and humorless. “Oh, please. You don’t care about reckless. You care about appearances.” Your hands lift in frustration. “It’s always the same. Stay in your rooms. Don’t go there. Don’t speak to them. Don’t do anything that might remind people I actually exist!”
“That is not what this is about.”
“Then what is it about?” you snap, your voice cracking with pure frustration. “Because from where I’m standing it looks exactly like every other day of my life.”
You step forward, the hem of your purple gown brushing the marble floor. “For years,” you continue, your voice shaking now, “I’ve been locked in rooms I didn’t choose, surrounded by guards I didn’t ask for, and no one—no one—ever gives me a proper explanation. Not once. And now suddenly I’m supposed to accept some knight glued to my side like it’s normal?”
Alaric shifts beside the throne, clearly uncomfortable. “Y/N,” he says carefully, “perhaps we should all take a moment—”
You turn on him so quickly it nearly startles the guards. “Do not,” you snap, “try to calm me down like I’m a child.”
Alaric raises both hands in surrender. Cassian, meanwhile, has slouched against one of the pillars with the relaxed posture of someone attending theatre rather than a royal argument.
He lets out a low whistle. “Well,” he says, grinning, “this escalated quickly.”
“Cassian,” Queen Helena warns.
But he’s already laughing. “I’m just saying,” he shrugs, wiping a tear from his eye, “I already told you she won’t handle the news gracefully like a princess, mother.”
“Shut it, Cassian!”
You ignore him and turn back toward the throne. “Father,” you try reasoning with him, your voice raw now, “I already can’t leave the castle. I barely leave my chambers. And now this? I certainly do not need him.” You gesture sharply to James. “He is a stranger!”
James suddenly feels very aware that the entire room is looking at him.
Wonderful.
“He grew up beside you,” Edmund replies coolly. “He grew up here. He knows the castle. He knows you.”
He knows about your secret.
“He knew me before you locked me away,” you fire back. “Do you see how absurd this is? You want a man I barely remember to monitor every step I—”
A muscle jumps in the king’s jaw. “That is enough.” Edmund replies, the patience finally cracking in his voice. “Someone tried to kill you! Therefore, you do not have the authority to allow or deny,” Edmund says. Each word is heavy, final. “This is not a request. It is a command.”
His gaze shifts to James. “I trust the Potters. And James is a perfect fit for this task. He will protect you and respect you, so rest assured that whatever invasion of privacy you’re worried about won’t happen.”
Your breath trembles, though your fury refuses to waver. “Then understand this. If you assign him to me, I will make his life intolerable.” you huff out, clearly not used to not getting your way with things.
Queen Helena finally stands up from her throne. Her gaze lands on you with a tired sharpness, the kind and patient gleam in her eyes gone.
“You will accept James as your knight,” she says slowly, each word shaped with warning, “or I will cancel the birthday parade.”
The floor seems to tilt beneath you.
You stop arguing as Cassian's laughter dies down, Elias quits shifting nervously behind your father, and even James lifts his head in surprise.
"No!" your voice breaks before it fully forms. “No, no, no. Mother, not the parade. Please.” Tears burn at the corners of your eyes before you can swallow them back.
The parade is the one thing they can never take from you.
The one day the gates open.
The one day you walk among people who are not servants or guards.
The one day you are not hidden away like a secret mistake.
Queen Helena exhales, her expression softening instantly at the sight of your trembling lip. She descends the steps toward you with measured calm, her skirts sliding across the marble. When she reaches you, she cups your face with both hands.
Her thumbs brush your tears away before they can fall. “My sweetheart,” she murmurs gently. “If I could give you the whole world, I would. If it were safe, I would let you run wherever your spirit wished to go. But danger is already inside these walls. Someone threatened you. Someone entered your chambers. Someone intends to harm you.”
You look down, jaw clenched, breath shaking. “The parade is the only day I am allowed outside. The only day I exist beyond these walls. You know what it means to me.”
“I do,” Helena whispers. “And that’s why you need protection. We cannot risk losing you.”
Her eyes lift toward James for a brief, meaningful moment. “And Potter is here to keep you safe.”
You step back, her hands slipping from your cheeks. Silence swells in the room. Then you turn sharply and walk away, your steps echoing through the chamber. James instinctively moves aside. The moment you pass him, you say coldly, “You’re really going to regret taking that promotion.”
James lets out a quiet sigh, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he mutters under his breath, “I’ve gathered that.”
The moment the throne room doors slam behind you, the echo still thrumming in your ears like a furious pulse. Your footsteps are sharp and quick, a storm contained only by thin self-restraint. You’re halfway down the marble stretch when you hear the soft thud of someone jogging after you.
You don’ t bother slowing or hiding the way your hands tremble with residual fury.
“Wait!” Elias’ voice carries behind you. He catches up within seconds, falling into step beside you with far too much ease for someone who has just sprinted half the length of the corridor.
You keep walking, gaze fixed forward. He releases a long, weary sigh. “You should not speak to Father like that.”
“Spare me,” you mutter, “I am allowed to object to being turned into some helpless prisoner that requires guarding.”
“You were attacked,” Elias replies quietly, although the weight of the words settles between you like a dropped stone. “You quite literally woke to someone standing over you with a blade and a letter promising more harm to come. There is clearly a spy in the castle. You know this.”
You halt so abruptly that your dress glides against his boots. You face him, fury burning across your features. “And how do you know,” you ask, your voice sharp as shattered crystal, “that James is not the spy?”
Elias stares at you as if you have suggested the sun might rise in the west, looking at you as though you are a fucking idiot.
Before he can speak, Cassian appears from around the corner, practically breathless from trying to catch up, laughter spilling from him because he has evidently heard your accusation.
“Y/N,” he says patiently, like he’s explaining something to a particularly dense child, “James Potter is the most painfully loyal man in this entire kingdom. The man bleeds duty.”
“That proves nothing.” you spit out.
“It proves he’s incapable of treason,” Cassian says.
You open your mouth to argue. Cassian cuts you off with a dramatic wave of his hand. “There’s a higher chance of Alaric secretly running a smuggling ring than there is of James betraying the crown, please.” he scoffs.
You glare at him with enough intensity to silence lesser men. Cassian only lifts his hands in surrender, still smiling. “Alright, bad example,” he admits, still smiling. “But you get my point.”
You sigh heavily, dragging a hand down your face. “That’s not even the point. The point is that my life somehow keeps getting worse the older I get.” you sigh.
“I actually thought this year might be different,” you mutter. “I really did.”
Elias falls into step beside you, his expression softening slightly. “Well,” he says after a moment, nudging your shoulder with gentle familiarity, “don’t look so defeated already. Your birthday is in two weeks and the parade is in ten days. Surely that counts for something.”
He glances at you. “Aren’t you excited?”
You roll your eyes so dramatically it almost hurts. “You heard Mother,” you say. “She’s going to cancel it.”
Behind you, Cassian scoffs. “Oh please.”
You glance over your shoulder just in time to see him reaching casually into the inside pocket of his coat and producing a small silver case.
“Cass, what the hell are you doing?”
He plucks a cigarette from the case with complete indifference. “What? I’m smoking obviously.”
The small flame flares briefly before he takes a slow drag, leaning lazily against the stone wall beside the corridor window as though the entire palace were not filled with guards who would happily report him within seconds.
“As I was saying, she would never cancel your parade,” Cassian continues, waving the cigarette vaguely in the air. “She acts strict, yes, but she’s not insane. Half the kingdom waits all year for it.”
He exhales another cloud of smoke as Elias agrees, “He’s right. People travel weeks just to see you.”
“Cass, you know if literally any guard in this castle sees you holding that, they will report you to Mother and Father within the hour.” you interrupt flatly.
“How do you think I got them?” he smirks.
Elias snorts as you stare at Cassian, horrified. You groan and start walking again, rubbing your temples. “This is exactly what I mean,” you say. “Everything is a disaster. My life is a disaster.” you throw your hands into the air.
“And now, on top of everything else, I’m apparently stuck with James Potter following me around like some sort of oversized watchdog.”
“You don’t even know if he’s useless yet,” Elias points out mildly.
You spin toward him. “Oh, I know,” you say immediately. “I can feel it. He’s probably the most useless guard this castle has ever hired.”
Cassian chokes on his smoke.
“And now,” you continue, growing more heated with every word, “he’s supposed to trail behind me everywhere I go, watching everything I do, listening to every conversation I have like some fucking—”
“Language,” Elias says automatically.
“Yes,” Cassian adds immediately, straightening with mock severity. “Language, princess.”
You glare at him. “Oh quit it, Cassian. Don’t act like you have standards. I’m pretty sure you were sleeping with that maid from the east wing last month.”
Cassian nearly drops his cigarette. “Hey!”
Elias leans against the wall, laughing even harder. “You told her?” he manages through the laughter.
“I didn’t tell her! She sneaked up on us!”
You give him a flat look. “Cass. The entire castle knows.”
Elias is still grinning when he pushes himself off the wall, though the laughter slowly dies down as he looks at you. After a moment he clears his throat, the mood shifting slightly. “Besides,” he says, “your birthday parade is in ten days. The whole castle’s already preparing. I heard it’s going to be big this year. Like… absurdly big.”
Despite everything, a tiny smile pushes at your lips. “You think so, Eli?”
He brightens immediately, puffing up with pride. “Of course. I helped plan part of it. What birthday gift do you even want this year?” Elias asks, nudging your shoulder lightly. “Name anything. I will get it.”
You roll your eyes but laugh again, shaking your head. “My birthday wish is the same as every year, Eli. I just want to be outside this castle. Properly outside. Not escorted or watched by guards. Just… outside.”
Elias’ smile falls a little. He sighs. “You know that’s not possible, at least not yet. But the parade will be beautiful, I promise. And afterward, Mother and Father are hosting a ball in your honor. Many heirs from neighboring kingdoms will attend.”
Cassian arches a brow teasingly. “Some are traveling days just to meet you.”
Your face drops instantly. “Oh no. Not another round of princes. I am not getting married.” you groan
Elias bursts out laughing. “You say that every year.”
“And I will continue saying it,” you reply sharply. “They parade them around like livestock. ‘Here, princess, pick a husband. Any husband.’ No thank you.”
Cassian shrugs, “You know, marriage isn’t all doom and gloom. I mean, look at our parents—they clearly love each other.”
You snort, crossing your arms. “Yeah, that’s great for them, but don’t you think it’s kind of… unfair? That I could be expected to marry some prince I’ve never met and become queen of a kingdom I barely know? Isn’t Valenora mine? Shouldn’t I be the one to rule here? Why should some random princess Alaric marries get my home?”
Elias frowns, walking beside you. “I get it. It’s… strange, yeah. But protocol is protocol. And honestly, I’m glad I’m not first in line for the crown. I really do feel bad that Alaric has to deal with all that expectation.”
Cassian nudges you lightly, teasing. “Well, you know what? You’re definitely more deserving of the crown than anyone they could parade in front of you.”
You roll your eyes, trying not to smile at him, though the corner of your mouth betrays you. “Thank you, Cass. That’s very reassuring.”
The three of you walk in companionable silence for a few steps, the castle halls stretching around you. Soon, you reach your section of the palace—the tower where your chambers are, with the small garden attached. At least you have this little patch of freedom, a slice of the outside world that’s yours, even if you’re mostly stuck inside.
Elias gives a small bow, looping his arm with Cassian’s as they tease, “See you tomorrow. Try not to burn down the wing while we’re gone.”
You shake your head with a laugh, muttering, “As if I could.”
And with that, they head back toward the main wing, leaving you to slip toward your garden, the cool night air brushing your cheeks as you let the quiet of the courtyard wrap around you.
The garden is the only place that has ever felt like yours. It rests behind the west wing, tucked far from the throne room, far from the watchful eyes that have followed you your whole life. The air smells like jasmine tonight, the blooms heavy and sweet, and for a moment you close your eyes and breathe it in.
You sit on the cool stone bench beneath the arbor, pulling your legs up, wrapping your arms around them, trying to gather your scattered thoughts.
Every princess is expected to be engaged or married around your age, and somehow you slipped past one expectation only to slam into the next.
You wonder how your parents expect to arrange anything when you have barely left the castle walls in years. You wonder who they expect you to marry. You wonder who would ever want a life like this.
You want to laugh, but it comes out as something closer to a sigh. It feels unfair, unbearably so, that you are meant to become queen of a kingdom you might never truly know.
That some other princess, someone you have never met, will one day stand beside Alaric and rule Valenora while you are sent away to rule a place that is not your home.
The thought makes your chest pull tight. You love your brothers, but sometimes the future feels like an invisible door being slammed shut right in front of you. You wish you could just escape and leave this— a sudden crunch of leaves behind you pulls you sharply from your reverie.
You turn, and there he is, the same stupid bastard who insists on ruining your life, standing there like he somehow materialized from the shadows themselves, hands casually resting at his sides.
You roll your eyes before you can stop yourself. “You really don’t have to follow me everywhere,” you say exasperated.
He quirks a small grin, his shoulders lifting. “That’s kind of my job, Princess.”
You stare at him, taking in the golden sunlight falling behind his shoulders, casting a halo over his face. For the first time, you really look at him. You’ve seen him before over the years, countless times shuffling through the castle halls—but never like this.
He’s clearly grown, his frame solid, broadening in a way that makes you blink. His eyes, the same mischievous spark from childhood, are now tempered with patience, and somehow, he seems both closer and infinitely further away than you remember.
And yet, even as you take him in, a flicker of irritation warms your chest. He’s always been kind to you, yes, but you can’t shake the simmering resentment.
It was because of him, after all, that your secret had been seen. That day in the gardens with Maximus, and insistence on telling his mother had changed everything. It had made this tower your home for years.
And though you can’t fully blame him—he was just a child too—some part of you can’t forgive him.
James, reading your expression with a careful glance, lets out a quiet sigh. “Look… I’m not here to make you feel trapped,” he begins. “This job—being assigned to you—it’s a command from the King. I can’t refuse it. Not even if I wanted to.”
You tilt your head, voice low and even. “We both know why this job was given to you, James. Don’t act like you don’t.”
He flinches just slightly, then straightens, letting a slow smile form. “Okay. How about this,” His tone shifts “We make a deal.”
You arch a brow, tilting your head like a cat. “A deal?” you drawl, voice dangerously sweet. “And how exactly can you, a royal guard, benefit me, the princess?”
He exhales, a little too quickly, and steps closer, leaning forward like he’s confessing a secret. “You don’t make my job impossible. You don’t—y’know—get me in trouble or get me fired. In return… I’ll be the best guard you’ve ever had. I’ll let you know my company is great and I’ll keep you safe, maybe even—” He stops himself, cheeks pink, and laughs nervously, “—make your life slightly less miserable.”
You scoff, shaking your head. “That’s… a terrible deal. First of all, it’s already your job to be the best guard. And second—‘slightly less miserable’? Really?” you pause, watching his earnest face and can’t suppress a laugh, rich and genuine, that spills across the garden like sunlight.
“I mean,” he continues, flustered but undeterred, “I can—”
“Okay,” you cut him off, raising a hand. “You got yourself a deal.”
He freezes, eyebrows shooting up, surprised at how quickly you agreed. “Wait. Really?”
“Yes, really,” you say, stepping closer, the gold of the setting sun catching in your hair. “But on one condition.”
“You have my full attention,” he says.
“You know how my birthday parade is in ten days, right?” you ask, lifting your gown to brush off some dirt.
“Everyone knows,” he says immediately. “The castle’s been preparing for it, the kingdom too—”
“Well, Potter,” you interrupt, smoothing your skirts and looking him dead in the eyes, “if you don’t want me to make this job a living hell and have you fired in a week, you’re going to help me.”
You were giving him the same look you used when you threatened to leave worms in his food as kids, and that was all James needed to know—you weren’t bluffing about what you were about to ask.
“Help you… how?” He blinks.
“You know how my birthday parade lasts four hours, winding all across the kingdom?”
“Yes?” he says slowly, trying to keep up.
“Well,” you say, tilting your head, that wicked, mischievous smile spreading across your face, “you, James Potter, are going to help me escape my birthday parade.”
Well, fuck.
James was already beginning to reconsider whether the pay was worth the job at all, because he had the distinct feeling that the deal he had just made with the princess was only the beginning of a very long road.
a/n: and here's the first chapter of tcov! i'm so, so excited to finally start sharing it with you all <3 chapter two will be posted very soon, that i promise! until then, i'd absolutely love to hear all your thoughts and theories as you read. they really keep me motivated, and it's always so fun seeing what you all notice and come up with :)
izzy806
dailybridgerton
