The Castle of Ravenholme roared with a thunderous uproar, violent shouts of anger blending with a commotion that spread through the entirety of the throne room, and the foyer, and the entrance. People crowded through the halls, a simmering protest threatening to break out into violent riot. The throne say, empty, and soiled - soaked with the ale and rotted food and spit and whatever filth the common folks could get their hands on. The gates were left up, the doors left open, and the guard powerless to stop the tidal wave of restless citizens. People with a single sentiment cheering through their mouth

“DOWN WITH THE TYRANT!”

Truly, it was a wonder that the building hadn’t gone up in flames. That the wealth wasn’t ransacked from its coffers, that its ashes weren’t floating off into the northern wind. As the plate-clad knight stepped through the crowd, wading through people who seemed only to hold their fists out of a mix of fear and respect, those thoughts ran through their mind. For as much respect as she had for… some members of the royal family, this wasn’t surprising. When the King suddenly, without warning, imposed a sweeping increase of taxes greater than any the Kingdom had seen before, a riot was an unsurprising result.

But she was not here for the King, nor for the rioters, nor the political ramifications of mass and unjust taxation. She continued through the halls, their clunking armor signalling folks to step aside without them even needing to look their way. Through the foyer, into a hall that lead to a stairwell, up a spiral staircase, and past more rioters that seemed to funnel past this hall. After all, the tyrant King was nowhere to be found here. Instead, she stopped four doors down, turned to her left, and held up a hand to knock. She hesitated, briefly, head tilting away - as if trying to remember something - before knocking out a peculiar rhythm.

There was a pause, and then the sliding of metal against wood, and the door creaked open. The knight slipped in, and put a hand out to stop one of the more opportunistic rioters from slipping in before the door was shut, and the metal latch slid across the door once again.

The room was a spacious one, well-kept and well-lit. A grand bed sat against a far wall, next to but not bordering a large window. Some few feet away from the bed, against the same wall, sat a vanity of a dark, rich wood lined with pink-gold along all of the edges one is unlikely to touch while using it. A small table stood in the center of the room, upon a rug, and various paintings and scrolls hung about the walls. And now stepping back towards the vanity after locking the door behind the Knight was a fair maiden. She was young, only some 20s in age, and had pale skin ne’er marked by vicious sun or buzzing pests. Her hair was a perfectly straight amber red, not a single strand frayed or cut or tangled. She wore an outfit unfitting of a lady who was simply lounging in her room - a dress, fit perfectly to her torso, whose body was pink and whose frills and folds were lined in golden fabric. Hazel eyes looked into the mirror, before glancing back to Gwain.

“Please,” she spoke with a sereneness that was befitting of her appearance, yet not of the events surrounding her - not befitting of the shouting populace downstairs and the people charging up the castle halls to try and overthrow her father. “My dear knight, Gwain, please tell me you’ve finished your quest. That you have returned with what I asked?”

Without speaking a word, Gwain lifted the helmet from her head, revealing the light-brown skin underneath. Black hair tumbled from her helmet in curling, clumping strands that seemed to be pressed together for a long time. Emerald eyes cut a sharp glare, yet freckles along her nose that breached out slightly to her cheeks seemed to soften her features.

Slipping the helmet under her arm, she fell to a knee with a resounding CLANK, as the plate shifted and shuddered with the impact. She reached past the interconnecting pieces of armor, and pulled from within a circlet - one with an arching design in the front, forged of a golden metal and studded with small pink sapphires. She presented it up towards the princess with an open palm.

“For you, your highness, Liane, I have completed this quest - slain the thieves who stole your heirloom and absconded into the night and returned it to you. Please, take it, and feel no need to thank or reward me.”

The dainty hands of Liane placed themselves upon either side of the circlet, and lifted it from Gwain’s hands. A smile, warm and genuine, even relieved, spread across her face as her eyes went from the circlet, to the kneeling Gwain, and then back to the circlet.

“Yes, of course, you wish for nought and only seek to serve.” She spoke as a chuckle rose in her throat. “Thank you for doing this for me. For everyone, really. It means more than you may know.”

“... Yes. Though - do forgive the intrusion, your highness. But… what is this item, exactly? I do not believe it to be… normal piece of adornment.”

Liane’s eyebrows raised, and head tilted… before a smile rose to her lips. “And, what makes you believe so?”

Gwain glanced up to meet the lady’s gaze for just a moment, bemused and eerily calm, before returning her eyes to the stone floor.

“It was… the look in their eyes. The bandits, as they fought to protect their spoils. They were emotionless. Lifeless, I might even say. Their eyes rippled nought with recognition of the world around them, nor even the desire to survive. And indeed - they each fought to the death, all but their captain, the one who wore the circlet - and who abandoned it before fleeing. He who seemed… manic, and power hungry, and truly shocked by ability to continue fighting. Despite not a single scratch being laid upon my armor, much less my body.”

Silence followed this, several seconds that stretched on far too long for the knight’s comfort. She cautioned a glance upward, to see that Liane had not so much as shifted her expression - her smile still bemused and serene, perhaps even moreso than before.

“... To explain, perhaps I shall tell you how I received this circlet. It was my mother’s, you know. Do you remember her?”

As she spoke, the Princess’ hands raised, and slipped the circlet on quite casually. Wind almost seemed to whip through the room a moment, a cool calmness brushing against Gwain’s face. And the rest of her body, despite it being armored. Though, as she focused on the Princess, that fact did not so much as come to her mind.

“Y-yes, I do. A powerful woman, cunning and firm as she was kind and understanding. She was a wonderful Queen. And a-” Gwain’s mouth clamped shut before she could finish the sentence, but the Princess shook her head - and motioned for her to continue. “... A tragic loss. I apologize.”

“No need. For that was years ago, and though I’ll never truly be finished grieving, I am comforted in her presence - for when she left me, she left me with one gift. This circlet, the same one she often wore upon her head in lieu of a crown.”

Gwain’s attention was fixated almost solely on the Princess’ words, eyes nearly unable to break themselves away. Only one thing prompted a hint of confusion in her mind - the sound of shuffling feet outside the door. Or rather, that sound as opposed to the sounds of rioting. Had the crowds calmed down?

“You know, my father was never a good leader - and though I am still young, I understand that his policies are… unpopular, in all forms. My mother understood this too - and yet, she could not rule in his stead, for she had not the right. So, instead, she took to… influencing his behaviour subtly. Calming his fervor, tempering his avarice, and perhaps providing some suggestions on governance.”

“And-” Gwain spoke up, but shut her mouth once again. The Princess, though, urged her to continue still. “... The circlet, is how?”

“Yes!” She answered more cheerfully than one ought to be when admitting to such an act. “The circlet is quite subtle, usually. But as a consequence, when I lose it - the effects fade, and he returns to his tyrannical self. And then people get mad - and blood is shed. I am merely doing what I must to prevent that.”

“And the people outside, the commonfolk who stormed the castle?”

“Similarly, I am not commanding them - merely suggesting them. The King has decided to back down on his plans to tax the populace - and that was the cause for this riot, no? Without that as cause, why continue to seek blood? Let the situation resolve peacefully.”

Gwain’s ears once again zeroed in on the sounds from outside the room - and downstairs, what little she could hear of it. Faint screaming had died down. Word had surely reached the rest of the mob. And… that was it? A coup, prevented in two steps?

Before her thoughts could fully form, the Princess’ hand was extended out to her, to bring her up to her feet.

And who is she to deny the request of royalty?

Their hands clasped together, and Gwain stood, locking green eyes into her Princess’ hazel. Her Princess? Gwain’s face twisted at the thought. Was that-

“Apologies-” Liane tilted her head to the side, a giggling bubbling out of her mouth as she covered it with a dainty hand. “Many apologies, but I knew you’d never stand if I hadn’t told you to.”

“You - you didn’t-” Gwain’s eye twitched at the confusion, her brain catching up to what had just been said. And when she did - and she realized she could conjure Liane’s name once again, her face grew flush. She covered her mouth to hide the expression of - mortification? No, no, far from it. Embarrassment, more accurately.

Liane’s smile grew wider, and her giggling turned to laughter. Gwain turned away, face growing brighter and body trembling.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The Princess pushed words through the laughter, hand moving from her mouth to Gwain’s shoulder. “You just - your expression was cute! I’m sorry!”

“Nnn-” Gwain grumbled words through an uneasy facade of stoicism. “N-no need to apologize, my- your highness! Your highness!”

The slip only made Liane’s laughter uproarious, as she leaned forwards and into Gwain to help keep her upright. “Oh - my highness, ohohohoho!” Despite her laughter being uncontrollable, it still struck Gwain as regal - like being laughed down at. Which, for some odd reason, only made the red spread further across her face.

Something of a minute passed before Liane was able to recover, letting out a heavy sigh before pushing herself off of Gwain’s armor and regaining her regal position. “Now, once again, many apologies. For your reward-”

“Your highness,” Gwain cut her off instantly. “There is no need for a reward. I-”

And just as quick, Liane snapped back. “There is no need, but there is a want. Or would you deprive your highness of her desire?”

Simultaneously teasing and firm in her tone, Gwain bit her tongue, then her lip, and turned away again as her face grew red. She took a deep breath in. “Very well. What is it you give to me?”

Liane did not answer with word - but instead with a motion, grabbing Gwain’s hand and lifting it up in front of and between the two of them. She leaned into the gauntlet-clad hand, before stopping, looking up to Gwain with a sheepish smile, and chuckling. “Ahem, a-apologies, may you bare your hand for me? Please?”

Gwain did as instructed without so much as hesitation or confusion - a simple request for her highness - FOR LIANE.Wow, that. She couldn’t get that out of her head. Phew. With her hand freed, she set the gauntlet upon the table in the center of the room - along with the helmet she had been holding onto for far too long. And so, Liane took it, and gingerly placed her lips upon the back of it.

“Please, if you would, my fair knight Gwain - take my hand in marriage? And once my father retires - likely quite early - we may rule together.”

Gwain fell silent. Her face flushed, and then alit anew. Her lips opened, and snapped shut before a word could come from her mouth. She blabbed out something, stuttered confusion that tried and failed to form a coherent answer. And then, silence. For several seconds, silence, as Gwain’s face burned and she tried to find the words.

“Mmm-” it was a moan at first, that escalated into a word. “Make me say it. I wish for you to make me say it, my highness.” She then let out a huff, a sigh, almost as if simply saying that took the most effort possible. The Princess’ lips turned upwards into a smile - happy, of course, but mischievous and flirty as well. Her hands reached up to hold Gwain’s cheeks, and forced her look into her Princess’ eyes.

The beautiful golden eyes. Were they always gold before? Gwain didn’t know. Gwain didn’t care. The tension in her body melted, her blush shrank, her expression dropped - and slowly, her green eyes began to share the gold in a messy swirl. Glittering like oil on the surface of water.

“Oh, my dear Knight. How ironic - the one person I didn’t wish to control, the one person whose choice I wished to be her own, doesn’t desire for that autonomy at all.”

Gwain nodded. Without even realizing, she nodded, and absorbed the statement. She doesn’t want autonomy. She knew that already, but being told, being instructed… made it stronger. An all-encompassing desire. She needed to let her Princess choose for her. She doesn’t want autonomy. She wants to be controlled.

“Then repeat after me, my dear, devoted Knight:”

Gwain’s lips moved perfectly in sync with her Princess’

“I, Gwain, Knight of the Fair Plains, do accept Princess Laine’s hand in marriage, and shall stay with her in devoted marriage until the end of our days. I shall never love another, I shall never look upon another without thinking of her, and I shall never break the sacred bond of trust established here.”

Her Princess’ face grew closer as she talked - as she professed, declared their undying love. A love which must surely be true. For her Princess decreed it. When their lips met, Gwain leaned in, eyes shutting and arms wrapping around her Princess. Their lips broke, and Laine whispered into her ear gently.

“Your quest has come to its end, now. Relax, dear Knight, and allow me to care for you.”

And with one last kiss, Gwain melted. Allowing her mind to fade, her will to evaporate, and for the day to turn to night.

And allowing the Knight to become a servant and lover to the Princess who was soon to be Queen.