♱ Medieval Knight!Leon x Princess!y/n AU ♱
"I don't recognize the man I once used to be. But I dont have time to think about that." // Chapter two.
Tags ♱ Heavy angst, mentions of gore, violence, and rape, y/n is described as female, religious imagery, slowburn, mutual pinning.
♱: War is war. Duty is duty. And you can't save everybody.
That was a reality you just couldn't seem to grasp. A six year long war, a devastated princess, the black sheep of the castle, who watches from her window each night as her world around her crumbles, and who floats through each day in a happier world behind her eyes. A knight who stands behind her silently, watching like a god, hands tightened on the hilt of a mighty sword.
Leon swore an oath, six long years ago to protect you at the start of this war, and that's exactly what he was going to do. An X carved into the palm of his hand with the blade of a knife, a promise. Hopelessly devoted to you each waking day and each terrible night.
+=={:::::::::::::::::> . . . +=={:::::::::::::::::> . . . +=={:::::::::::::::::> . . .
A mother holds her bundled infant close in a dimly lit home on the outskirts of the city, the recurrent and persistent sounds of war inching closer and closer with each second. The church bell, once rung to indicate the change of time, now is rung as a warning. The sound of desperate, shaky praying could be heard from the other side of the room, her husband knelt down to the dirt floor, clutching a rosary.
“O good Jesus, hear me. Within thy wounds hide us. Permit us not to be separated from Thee. From the malignant enemy defend us. In our hour of death call us, and bid us come to Thee, that with Thy Saints I may praise Thee forever and ever. Amen.”
The sounds of popping and exploding gunpowder rung out across the dark skies in response to her husband's prayer.
The bundled baby whimpered, wriggling in its confines. The mother shushes her babe, rocking it. Surely the King had sent down his armed forces. That sound, marching feet kicking up dirt, getting closer, must be the King's army.
That sound, of distant screams and cries, must be the shrill screams and cries of enemies being slain.
The mother lowered the collar of her dress, allowing for the baby to suckle. Perhaps it was hungry.
The screaming and sound of fighting was closing in around them quickly. Her husband's forehead gleamed with fresh sweat, and dragged a chair towards the front door, positioning it under the door handle so it couldn't be opened.
Her husband yelled something she couldn't, or maybe refused to hear. He reached for a woodcutting axe that sat upside down by the door, before backing away from it.
“Shhh…” She whispered to her baby.
Loud banging erupted from outside of the door. The chair shook violently, keeping the door from opening. But it did not do much against the blade of a sword rupturing through the body of the door.
Her husband cried out, standing in front of her to shield her.
The blade of the sword was wet with shiny blood, splinters of wood from the door sticking to it. An armor clad hand reached through the hole in the door, shoving away the chair.
The door flung open, slamming back against the wall. Two figures stepped in through the door, covered from head to toe in gleaming armor.
This was the end, as they knew it.
Leon stood at the sidelines of the riding ring, the dusty scent of horses hanging in the air. You could feel his eyes following you as you sat atop a purebred black stallion, trotting in circles around the ring. You directed Noir with careful precision, guiding him over the placed obstacles.
This part of your day was usually the only reason you found the inspiration to even leave your quarters and venture out into the castle. This, and visiting the Parterres and the greenhouse.
Counting softly under your breath, you kept track of each trained step from Noir. Though you tried your hardest to focus, a dull throbbing was beginning to well up in your temples.
One.. Two.. Three.. Four.. One.. Two.. Three.. four.. Jump over the double crossrail. Ugh.
“Your posture, m’lady! Posture!” Walter proclaimed from where he stood, off to the side of the ring. His voice was annoying and nasally.
Walter, the stable master and your absolutely dreadful riding instructor of course found something to complain about. Even after you had counted every single step, made sure Noir didn't fumble or fuss over the jump, and were time efficient. He always found something to complain about.
Looking back at him, you tugged on the reigns and circled around to meet him halfway, an incredulous scoff leaving your lips.
You gazed down at him, all wrinkled olive skin and long grey hair.
“My posture? My posture is never an issue.” You retorted, now wrestling with the tangled reigns.
He fiddled with the short, thin whip in his hands. “Well it was just now. You cannot sit atop a jumping horse like that. You'll fall, and break something.” He shook his head, taking a step back and waving dismissively for you to try again.
“And you sit too tensely. You look like a warrior off into battle. Not a lady.”
You glanced over at Leon, making a face as you steered Noir back around. He just raised his eyebrows, mouthing to you, “Posture.” in response. He must find this amusing, telling by the slightest evidence of life in that statue of a man.
He was just as serious looking as the first day you had met him. Today was the anniversary of that day.
The war had started early spring, six years ago. six long years with still no end in sight, as far as you could tell. A feud over a lost carriage holding twin sister princesses from the kingdom of Alarus. They were to be wed to your brothers to finalize an alliance between the two strained kingdoms. Mere chess pieces on the board of politics. But who were you to judge? You were also a political chess piece at the end of the day.
They were going to be your sister-in-laws. But the carriage never made it to Mythress. It was still many miles away from the heart of Mythress when the ransacked carriage was eventually found. The princesses were raped, slaughtered, and left to rot in the summer sun. The perpetrators were never caught.
Alarus had blamed it on Mythress. Two kingdoms already connected by a taught piece of string ready to snap, and when the string had finally snapped, havoc cried out.
Sparing no time, Leon had almost immediately been assigned to your charge. Freshly twenty one, ordered to protect you with his life. You didn't meet him until the knighting ceremony, being spared only brief descriptions of him beforehand.
Strong. Loyal. A worthy warrior.
The memory of the knighting ceremony was still so clear in your mind, as if that day was the day you had taken your first breath. The sun was hot against your back as Leon knelt down in front of you. Eyes were all around in that courtyard, your father, surrounding guards, knights with their young squires, noblemen and women, waiting with bated breaths.
The courtyard was shiny and bright, blooming with life all around.
You wore a tightly fitted white dress adorned with silver lace, your tiara balanced atop of your head like a sack of bricks. You could feel sweat pooling underneath your arms.
You remembered the steady weight of the dull knighting sword in your hands. The intensity of Leon's gaze upon you in your summer finery. The sun on Leon's dirty blonde hair, his fair skin, sharp nose and furrowed brows. A picture perfect squire who was ready as he ever would be to be a knight. Angelic, devastatingly handsome.
You remembered the way your voice shook as you spoke, hesitantly breaking the silence of the courtyard.
“Do you, Leon Kennedy, vow to protect me with your life?”
Leon lifted his chin towards you.
“I do.” He responded quickly, as if he had made the decision before you had even said anything. His voice left his lips in a low, steady sound that echoed across the courtyard.
“I am a trained squire of many years. I shall live a disciplined life alongside you till the end of your days or until I am ordered not to. I shall protect you in body and mind, and you shall come before all else in my care. My hands for war, my fingers for battle.”
You then gently touched the blade of the sword to each of Leon's built shoulders, sealing the promise that bound him to you. The silence was palpable, save for the constant buzz of cicadas and the trickling of water that spouted from the fountain somewhere within the crowd.
You then were handed a dagger, presented to you on a cushion.
Your hands shook as you maneuvered the blade of the dagger to his open palm, wincing as you carved an X into the thin skin there. Dark red blood pooled in his palm, before trickling down onto the stone below. Leon barely flinched, his stare remaining unwavering and focused on you- His princess, his charge, the one who he had just pledged his life and body to.
The crowd of onlookers erupted into applause.
“Sorry.” You whispered, only for his ears.
He shook his head, just barely in silent reassurance. This pain, it was nothing. Not the searing of the open X on his palm, not the bead of sweat that rolled down his temple in the heat of the sun. It was nothing compared to what he would've endured for you.
“Arise, sir Leon. “ You instructed. Leon rose to his feet carefully, his hand still trickling blood. He stood tall in front of you, looking down at you.
You reached up, hovering two fingers in front of his damp forehead. “Be thou a true knight, in the name of the father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” You let your hand fall to your side.
The sounds of celebration continued, and went on for far too long afterwards. The sound of celebration, while war rolled in like thunderstorm clouds. You didn't really hear any of it, though, because in that moment there was only the weight of those vows, and the way his eyes still held yours, steadily.
Much has changed since then. The war came, inevitably. The kingdom now stinks of a constant rot. The smell of the bodies of soldiers and civilians, too many to bury quickly enough, the smell of smoke and gunpowder that permeates the air. The war no longer was a potential distant threat that loomed while children played.
The castle grew more silent and tense each year. This was your kingdom. Your people. And yet you were powerless to it all. No power to stop any of the carnage or bloodshed.
Not a day passed where you didn't mourn what once was. You wondered if Leon mourned too.
You exhaled, pulled from your thoughts.
Noir refused to jump over an obstacle in front of him. You dug your heels into his sides, but he didn't budge, looking back at you and snorting stubbornly instead.
“I think we’re done for today.” You stated, turning back to eye Walter.
You handed the reins to one of the stableboys, patting Noir on the rump. Turning for the front gates, Leon was waiting patiently there for you.
Leon opened the gate doors for you, then followed you back outside onto the main pathway back to the inside of the castle. Your father had ordered his men to move the stables closer to the entrance and exit of the castle walls sometime last year so that knights had easier access to their horses.
The sky was shrouded with dark, spring storm clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The city below could be seen from there over the stone parapets. Smoke rose up from chimneys. Luckily, war hadn't reached much of the inner city over the years, so only a few abandoned and destroyed buildings could be seen.
Leon spoke quietly from beside you, armor rattling softly with each step he took.
“You should wash up when we get back.”
You open your mouth, head turning to the side to look at him.
“No.” He interrupted firmly. “Your father wants you at dinner tonight.”
“He always wants me at dinner.” You muttered, brushing horse hair and dust off of your navy riding dress and turning to look back towards the city.
“Everyone except you eats dinner in the dining hall. You are the princess. This is expected of you.”
Right. As if you out of all people needed a reminder of who you were.
Looking back at him though, his eyes had softened a bit.
Thunder rumbled again, a warm raindrop clipping past your cheek. The warm breeze tousled the flyaways of your braid. Frowning, you continued to lead the way back to the inside of the castle.
The two of you walked in silence for a beat more, before Leon added, “Ashley misses you.”
“If Ashley misses me, she can come up to my quarters.” You retorted quickly, brows furrowing.
“She wants to apologize.”
You huffed. “It just frustrates me.”
“I don't understand why she refuses to just open her eyes. How can she live so happily all the time, and have the gall to act so clueless as to why I can't?" You murmured.
You looked back over to Leon.
“Shes not you. Who are you to say how she should feel?”
You scoffed, arms crossing on instinct. “Ive lived practically the same life she has. There's no reason she can't just listen to the truth.”
“Perhaps your truth just isn't hers.” He murmured.
The two of you soaked in the sound of the distant thunder for a few moments.
The constant sound of his armor rattling as he walked beside you had become a sort of safe space over the years. You got lost in it for a moment, staring at your feet as you walked.
“All you have to do is go down and eat dinner. Talk to Ashley, so maybe she’ll get off my back about you.”
You sighed knowing he wasn't about to budge on this.
“I don't want to.” You breathed, bringing your hands up to rub your eyes.
Before, Leon would have probably said something along the lines of “Just following orders.” Now all he says is, “I know.”
Warm, soapy water lapped at your skin. Servants scurried around the tub you sat in as you scrubbed at your skin roughly with a sponge and a bar of soap. The soap smelt distinctly of citrus fruit. You couldn't remember the last time you had bitten into a perfectly juicy orange. The thought made your mouth water.
A servant dressed in a white chemise and brown curdled scrubbed at your scalp from behind you, lathering your hair with soap. Another set out your outfit for dinner, a silky red cotte dress with golden trim draped over the dark oak partition wall on the other end of the bathroom.
You were very capable of washing up yourself, but having the servants come up to help you wash up made you feel like a little girl again, back when things were even slightly okay. When things were normal. It reminded you of sitting in your mothers lap in the large stone tub in your parents quarters.
The way your mother would run her pruney fingers through your wet hair. When she would whisper stories into your ear about how unwashed girls get eaten by wolves, tickling your ribs.
The servant currently scrubbing at your scalp did it a little more roughly than how you had remembered your mother doing it, making you wince, but your mouth kept shut.
“Tilt your head back, your Highness.”
The hands that scrubbed at your scalp ceased its scrubbing, and tilted your head back. Water was poured onto your head. Soapy water dripped down your neck and shoulders, before trickling back into the tub below.
Small droplets of cooling water dripped down your spine, making you shiver. You hurried to wash the rest of the soap off of your body. Going to dinner would be less miserable than staying in the now cold water, you decided. Bracing yourself on the edges of the tub, you stood up out of the water and pairs of hands immediately furled a scruffy towel around your bare, dripping body.
“We’ll leave you to it, your highness.” The servants began to file out of the bathroom, the last one squeezing through and quickly shutting the door behind her.
You stood there in the tub with the towel draped around you for a few moments. You really did not want to go to dinner. Rubbing your hands down your face and letting a small groan escape your lips, you finally stepped out of the tub.
Even drying off felt strenuous. The effort of moving around to dry yourself off was making you sweat. It feels as if with each passing day you just get more and more fatigued. You find yourself just wanting to curl up in bed, exhausted after just being up and awake for five minutes.
After drying off you rushed to dress yourself, not even bothering to tighten the dress correctly or put on makeup. You were just going down to eat dinner, and avoid another argument with your father for not attending dinners. All that mattered was that you were going.
I get an hour a day to myself to wash up and eat. Nothing more, nothing less. Two temporary guards watch her majesty while I'm gone. They stand outside her door. I sleep once a week for a few hours on Tuesdays, starting very early in the morning and stretching into noon. I survive on it. Not that I have a choice.
Sometimes I don't sleep during that free time though. Sometimes I just lay there on that bed in that dark room, waiting for my exhaustion to consume me and bid me some peace. Though thoughts race around my brain like free horses, spurring my eyelids back open.
I nearly fell asleep today in the tub while washing myself. As soon as I do, I force myself to get out.
“Fuck.” I groaned to myself, rubbing my eyes and bracing myself on the edges of the wooden tub before lifting out of it.
I have about five minutes to get back up to the princess quarters to make sure she's ready for dinner, I decide as I look up to check the time on the little metal clock on the wall. Reaching for a towel on the tubside table, I barely dry myself off before discarding the towel aside somewhere on the floor.
I tug on over my head a few layers of thin under armour clothes, before walking towards the wooden armor stand near the corner of the room. The armour is heavy, and the under armour is scratchy and uncomfortable. But I'm used to the feeling now after so many years. Something tells me I shouldn't be, though.
I walk over to the mirror before putting my helmet on. Eyebags, gaunt features and chapped lips. I know I should be taking care of myself better. I know that if I'm not at my best, that I won't be able to protect her the best that I can. But I also know I'm paranoid. I can't let her out of my sight for too long, just to make sure my needs are met. She's what matters.
This war, and the things I've seen, have made me paranoid. A deep festering dark that has bitten down onto my psyche. People who I know have known the princess for years now, people who we pass by in the halls everyday, sometimes I find myself doubting my trust in them. What if they're spies? One wrong move, one wrong decision or misjudgement of someone, and the princess could be gone. Murdered, assassinated, raped, and I could have failed at my job. People are abominable, especially the ones who start and fund wars. You can't trust anyone in war. Even the ones you think you can trust the most. Even the ones who you are supposed to trust the most.
I blink away the sleep from my eyes and exhale heavily. I place the helmet on my head, adjusting the sight visor before making sure my sword is strapped tightly to my hip.
I don't recognize the man I once used to be. But I don't have time to think about that.
You’re definitely late for dinner by this point. The hallways are empty, and the smell of food wafts through the castle, the sound of silver trays holding food being pushed on servant carts echoing from down the hallway. And this time it isn't your fault, funny enough.
The two guards who stand on either side of you are silent and stare forward. So you're silent as well, your hands folded at your lap.
Finally though, the sound of Leon's armor began to echo down the hallway, and when he appeared you looked up. As soon as he arrived there in front of the three of you, the two other guards perked up, acknowledging Leon with some grumbled words. Leon doesn't usually say anything back to them.
“We’re late to dinner.” He states, standing in front of you.
“I know. I’ve been waiting out here for you.” You offered a teasing smile.
“My apologies, your highness. Lost track of time. We should head down now, though.”
You sigh, nodding and beginning to lead the way down to the dining hall.
It's raining harder by now, the sound of droplets splattering against the large windows of the high hallways filling up the space where the usual silence of the hallways these days would be. You try to quell your nerves by focusing on the rain.
“First big storm of the new year, huh?” You comment, twiddling your hands together.
You frown. Leon isn't going to say much, now that people pass you two in the hallways and the two of you aren't alone anymore.
“..The gardens will surely enjoy it. We’ll have fresh vegetables.” You sigh. “Havent had those in a while.”
Dread pooled in the pit of your stomach as the two of you neared the doors to the dining hall. You began to slow down, but Leon kept up the steady pace towards the door.
“Come on.” He called out, turning and lifting the vision visor on his helmet to get a better view of you. His eyes showed you all the emotion you needed to see to guess what the rest of his face looked like right now. His eyebrows furrowed a bit as he motioned towards the doors.
“Are you sure? I mean, we’re already late…” You trailed off.
Leon shook his head, beginning to open the doors, leaving no more room for arguments.
As soon as Leon pushes open the closed dining hall doors for you, you can feel all the eyes on you immediately. Disappointed, disapproving eyes now following your every move, your every step. You exhaled tersely, straightening up.
“Ah. You've decided to join us. We were about to eat without you.” Your father remarks.
Internally, you groan at that. Externally? A tense smile forces its way to your lips. Leon speaks for you though, as he guides you to your seat next to your mother and Ashley.
“Pray, grant me your grace, your highness. I lost track of time. This is no fault of the Princess.” Leon stated.
You clear your throat, uncomfortably squeezing in between your mother to get settled at the table. The room is uncomfortably quiet now, and you wished everyone would just start talking again, and ignore you again like how they all usually do.
Once you are settled, you look down to the plate of food in front of you. A slice of bread, some soggy, steamed greens, and a big chunk of some sort of meat. Likely boar. It has been a while since you've had meat.
“Now, let the lord bless this food.” Your father lifts his hands to clasp them together in prayer. Everyone follows suit, but you don't.
“Bless us O Lord, and these Thy gifts which we are about to receiveth, through Thy bounty, through Christ our Lord we pray. May we be strong in virtue, and firm in these times of trouble. Amen.”
The stone room illuminated by candlelight echoed with a chorus of quiet, “Amen”’s. You picked up your fork, poking around at your plate. You weren't hungry. How could you be hungry? You were surrounded by people who poked and prodded and judged your every movement. How could you be hungry when you were sitting next to someone you had been trying to avoid, and someone who currently refused to make any conversation even though you had literally came out of her, her only evidence of life being the flick of a wrist to call over a servant to fill her cup with more wine..?
Your brother talked loudly, recalling tales of fencing lessons from today. Your mother hung her head, staring down at her untouched plate with her fingers curled around that glass of wine. Everyone else talked, ate, and acted as if everything was perfectly fine.
You hated pretending. More than anything.
“I’d make a great warrior. You saw how I disarmed you.” Malcolm, your brother boasted, grinning at your other brother, Cedric. Cedric looked rather unenthused by Malcolm, but entertained him with a small nod.
You felt sick and suffocated in this room. You couldn't even begin to imagine how Leon felt right now, under all those layers of armor.
You shifted in your chair, glancing back at him from behind the broad backrest momentarily. He stood a few feet back from your chair, vision visor tilted back down so you couldn't see his eyes anymore. He was as still as a statue, as silent as one too. The picture perfect representation of a knight. You at least were proud that he was yours.
A hushed voice from beside you made you look back.
“Y/N…” Ashley leaned in close to you.
You had to refrain from immediately making a foul face at her. You swallowed your instincts, and reached for your fork.
“Yes?” You replied shortly, poking around at your plate to look busy.
Ashley seemed a little off guard that you had replied, as if she were expecting you to ignore her. She cleared her throat, before straightening up a little in her seat.
“Oh. Uh. How have you been? We haven't talked much recently..”
You shoveled a bit of the firm meat from your plate into your mouth. You grimaced at the gamey taste. Definitely boar.
“Yes. We haven't." Maybe she would give up trying to talk to you if you were boring enough.
Ashley went quiet for a few moments. You could see her also poking around at her plate with disinterest from the corner of your eye.
“The meat is quite dreadful. Isn't it?” She jested.
You couldn't resist the tiny smile that crept its way to your face. You nodded softly. “It is.”
The two of you sat in silence for a moment. Ashley shifted uncomfortably, before turning towards you again.
“I'm sorry.” She murmured.
You glanced over at her, letting your fork rest against the plate.
“I shouldn't have argued with you like that. It was very unladylike of me.”
Your eyes softened a bit. Her blonde, short hair gleamed like gold in the candlelight.
“Arguing like that is futile. I missed you.” She reached over her plate, resting a hand on top of yours.
You curled your hand around hers, squeezing lightly. “Dont worry about it. It's okay… I overreacted..” The lie tasted bitter in your mouth, but maybe Leon was right.
Ashley smiled, squeezing back.
You finagled your hand out of her grasp. An awkward silence filled in the space between the two of you, an air of fragility hanging between you.
You looked past Ashley to look upon the rest of the room, a sort of quiet tension suddenly filling the room. Everyone was silent, practically leaning in and listening in on a conversation between Malcom, and one of your fathers secretaries.
Your mother beside you was rubbing her temples.
“Watch your mouth boy. You know not what you say.” The secretary pointed a finger at your brother from across the table, leaning over his plate.
“All I'm saying is that I think I would make an excellent general. Better than that Kraussman.” Malcolm waved his fork around between his fingers, as if it were a mighty, tiny sword.
The room bristled, people murmuring and looking around at each other. Your father straightened up in his seat, but said nothing.
“Silence! You are but a brat. You know nothing about the world, about how the people in this castle work day and night to make sure your head doesn't wind up on a spear!” The secretary stood, continuing his pointing.
“Working hard?” Malcolm scoffed, rising from his seat as well. “We were nearly completely invaded last week. Fires from the attack raged on into the new week! That doesn't suggest hard work to me.”
“You know nothing about this war, that much is clear. Fine, if that is what you think, how about you go out there on the frontlines and fight. If only men were as eager as you to indulge in bloodshed…”
Your brother said nothing for a few seconds, only scowling.
“Maybe we wouldn't be vanquished!” The secretary snapped.
People gasped. You felt your stomach drop. What?
Heads turned in your direction, but not to look at you this time. Eyes were now on your father.
The angry secretary motioned to your father. “Go on. Tell your son, who is so eager to squeeze his way into our business, what he wants to hear.”
Your brother's arms dropped to his sides, a shocked expression on his face as he looked your father up and down. You glanced over at your mother, who also looked towards your father. A disgusted, knowing look was plastered upon her face, but she said nothing.
“Well?!” Your brother abruptly snapped.
Your father leaned forward over his plate. “This is not the time to discuss such matters. Sit back down, both of you.” He warned.
“What?! Your secretary just said we are losing the war! Speak you old fool!” Your brother shouted, pointing his fork towards your father.
“Please- Malcolm, sit back down-” Your mother pleaded. Cedric’s worried eyes switched between Malcom and your father, leaning back in his seat and away from Malcom.
“No, no! You shut up, bitch! You follow him around like a lost dog all day, you don't get to tell me what to do!” Malcolm hissed at your mother.
In a sweeping instant, your father stands, the chair scraping against the floor. “I said this wasn't the time to discuss such matters.” He said firmly again, his glowering gaze snapping over to his now anxious looking secretary.
Your father raised a hand, snapping his fingers, and in an instant guards from all angles of the room encroached upon the secretary.
“Take him away for now. He is a danger to the peace of this castle.” Your father declared. The secretary shouted, fighting back against two guards who tried to detain him. People gasped and stood, crowding away from the chaos.
You stood as well, grasping onto Ashley's arm in a panic. She gasped, holding back onto you as well.
Your brother shouted, and when you looked back to him, he was chasing after your father who had begun to leave the room, guards hightailing your brother.
The secretary was shoved down against the table, sending glassware and silverware flying, glass breaking and cups full of wine spilling and staining the table cloth. Another secretary tried to intervene, but was promptly shoved down against the table as well by guards.
You turned to Leon who was suddenly behind you. He was reaching out to you, trying to get you to come over to him. But you promptly turned and rushed towards the main exit, running after your brother and your father.
“Princess! Stop!” Leon shouted over the chaos, but you kept going.
You burst out of the main exit doors out into the hallway. Guards wrestled with your now on the floor brother, as he cursed and squirmed.
You could see your father whisking around a corridor, away from the scene. Classic.
You ran past guards, as they yelled commands in your direction at you.
“Surely not. We can't be losing the war.. We just can't..” You murmured to yourself. Dread pooled in your stomach.
When you finally caught up to your father after turning down the corridor that leads to the Great Hall, you reached out and grabbed onto his sleeve. He spun to look at you, a disgusted look on his face.
“Father, please- What does your secretary mean we are being vanquished-” You begged.
He wrenched his arm out of your grasp, clenching his jaw. “What does it take for a woman like you to understand her place?” He hissed, his voice full of animosity.
“If you missed what I had already said, now is not the time for such conversation.”
You scowled, clenching your hands into fists at your sides. “Everyone heard what your secretary said.”
Your father loomed over you, instinctively making you back up and stumble. “You'd better shut that mouth of yours. I raised you better than this.” He sneered darkly, encroaching on your space and sticking a finger into your face.
Footsteps and eager voices bounding down the hallway began to echo, until a well-dressed crowd formed at the entrance of the corridor. You glanced behind your shoulder.
“Vanquished?! My Lord, please! Whatever does your secretary mean?!” Someone shouted. Guards barked orders at the crowd, but nobody moved, until someone began to push through the crowd.
Leon emerged from the crowd and rushed towards you. “Princess.” He pushed up his sight visor, troubled blue eyes looking back into yours.
Before you could answer, your father grabbed your wrist, yanking it towards him painfully and causing you to gasp softly. “Look what you've done. You've caused a panic.”
“Halt.” Leon demanded. Leon pushed forward in between the two of you, pulling you away from your father. He placed a firm hand on your fathers chest, creating distance between you and your father.
Your wrist throbbed lightly, and you backed away.
Your father had an incredulous look on his face, and opened his mouth to speak but Leon quickly interrupted him.
“You are not to injure or harm the princess in any way.” He asserted.
“I am the king, and her father, I will do anything to her that I please.” Your father snapped.
“Not under my care, sir.” Leon stood tall and firm in front of your father, unmoving and unintimidated. His assuring words made the dull pain in your wrist feel a little better.
“I think you fail to recall that you ordered me to keep her majesty as safe and healthy as possible.” Leon added, when your father failed to quip back fast enough.
Your father was very obviously seething, and his eyes burned holes through you, before looking past you at the unmoving crowd at the end of the hallway.
The tension in the air was palpable, and awkward as hell.
Your father straightened up, before announcing bitterly to everyone in the hallway, “We are being vanquished.” Your stomach dropped to your feet, and you could feel the way Leon tensed up at his words, even behind those layers of armor.
The crowd practically erupted.
“Is that what you all so desperately wanted to hear when we could've been having a nice dinner?” Your father hissed to himself.
Leon turned to look at you, a fire in his eyes that you had never seen before. Angry, confused. Terrified.
Why didn't he say anything sooner? Why did it have the information have to be forced out of someone?
