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PRINCESS
Before Charlotte’s mother died, she told her daughter one of the most important things she’d ever heard; as a royal, even as queen, the most powerful woman in Midland, her life was not hers. A good queen and a good princess sacrificed herself for her people. She did what the people needed her to do, whatever it was. A good queen would never truly be happy.
When Charlotte thought about it now, a sadness took over her and it wouldn't leave for days. It broke her heart to think that perhaps her mother had never been happy.
Her step-mother was unhappy too, but Charlotte didn’t think that she was miserable for the same reasons.
She tried not to think of the words her mother had left her with, an inheritance she never asked for, but she was revisiting the thought again and again the more time she spent with Sir Griffith.
#
It wasn’t that she disliked Adonis.
The boy was her cousin. She’d been present at his birth. She visited him on his birthday, and on Christmas, and whenever her father allowed Julius and his son to come to the castle. She often entertained the boy while their fathers talked of war, of politics, of the burden of royalty. He was a nervous lad, though sweet. But she didn’t love him.
She didn’t want to marry him. Some sick part of her was happy he was gone.
She hated the thought, hated it with every fibre of her being, but Adonis had a miserable life. Perhaps death was a kindness. Perhaps it would have gotten better had he been allowed to live. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. What good was it to think of what could have been, when it would never be? It was hard enough to focus on the now, on what could still come to pass.
Sir Griffith’s face had been odd when they’d heard the news. He didn’t know Adonis, so there was no reason for him to grieve. However, most had some sort of reaction to the death of a child. Sir Griffith’s face was blank, the ghost of a smile at his lips. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder to comfort her, watching with the eyes of a hawk as she was escorted back inside.
Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Captain...Guts, that was it. She thought she saw him walking down the stairs, his shoulders slumped, his steps slow. The lady knight chased after him, calling to him. She wondered what such a man had to be sad about. Maybe he’d heard the news from where he stood, and he was sad too. How odd that this man who showed no emotion but anger felt such melancholy at the death of a young boy he didn’t know. Her initial impression of him as a surly ball of anger was shattered.
She wondered, then, what sort of man Sir Griffith spent his time with.
#
Charlotte had other suitors, of course. Even before Adonis passed, many nobles didn’t respect her status as betrothed, and tried to impress her, tried to woo her. Since the time she’d been able to walk she’d had attention from men. Her father said that was a sign of her good breeding, but that was not the praise he thought it was. It made her hope that her future babies would be misshapen beings with strong minds and big hearts, if only so they could be spared from such a fate.
Sir Griffith, however, was the only one she’d actually been attracted to. She wasn’t naive. She knew his only interest in her was for her title. Still, he pretended so well she could almost forget that he didn’t actually love her. It seemed, at the very least, like he might actually like her. He listened to her. He tried to make her laugh. He shared with her. Even if his speech about dreams was a lie, it was certainly a beautiful one. One almost beautiful enough to believe.
#
Charlotte wondered if kings were to be as unhappy as queens.
Her own father hadn’t even smiled when he’d married her step-mother. He never spoke to her about the business of ruling, but her father looked old beyond his years. He always seemed tired. Inheriting a war, she supposed, would do that.
She wanted to tell Sir Griffith not to marry her, that it would kill the light in his eyes. When she thought of it, she wasn’t sure there was much light there to begin with. Perhaps it had already been snuffed out, and only a flickering ember remained.
The thought of marrying Griffith was a dream. Not one she could fight for, even if she took up the sword herself. She knew her father would not allow it, not unless Griffith did something extraordinary. She could hint to it, subtly, the one thing she’d learned from her step-mother, and hope her father came to the conclusion she wanted him to. If her destiny was to be unhappy, she wanted to be miserable with Sir Griffith.
#
Captain Guts was confusing.
She'd thought he hated her. He’d never said as much, but she knew in her heart that he did. He looked at her the way the queen looked at her; with sneering, barely concealed contempt. She could almost admire a man who cared so little for decorum that he’d scream at a princess, but he was large. He was loud. He seemed a demon in that moment, though she understood his anger. She cared for Sir Griffith too, and to see him in pain hurt her heart.
She suspected that they had more in common than Captain Guts thought.
She watched the man, wondering what it was that Sir Griffith saw in Captain Guts. He clearly valued Guts, and she wanted to know why. With most people, even high-ranking officials, Guts was either quiet or angry, passive or forceful. But with the lady knight, Casca, he smiled. He joked. He pestered her into teasing him back, and if she told him to do something he did it. He complained the whole time, but he did it.
With Sir Griffith, he blushed.
He’d blush. He’d stammer. He’d bluster, he’d shout, his voice would go into a higher pitch than she thought was possible for such a man. He’d look at Griffith. His eyes rarely left him whenever they were together. Griffith had him wrapped around his fingers, that much was clear. Guts trained constantly. It was almost impressive. Perhaps he was one of Griffith’s friends. No, that couldn't be it. He didn’t have a dream. He just did what others said, begrudgingly followed orders.
Griffith looked at Captain Guts too. Griffith blushed around him too. Griffith liked to be close to him, always touching, always smiling. Charlotte’s heart ached when she saw the way his eyes sparkled for this gruff man. She wanted his eyes to shine for her like that.
They weren’t friends. That much was clear. But they were something, she knew. Something she didn’t like.
But if she wanted Griffith, she knew that Guts would not be far behind.
And that made her very, very unhappy.
#
Talking to Guts was a mistake.
Now he wasn’t some ambiguous enemy, someone to envy and hate, someone to get out of the way to get what she wanted. She knew that he really did have a dream. Also, now she knew what he was doing in the fields every day. She wondered if he really did meditate on the nature of swords, or if he’d been playing a joke. If it was a joke...it was a funny one, she had to admit.
She wasn’t an idiot, either. She played one well, and it served her cause. People let down their guards when they thought you were dumber than them. Seeing Guts in Griffith’s quarters proved something to her. And they were both equally moronic if they thought she wouldn’t see their matching set of love bites.
But he’d smiled at her. He’d played along with Griffith’s silly ideas, he’d talked to her like she was just anyone else. He was...handsome, in a way. Hard, and almost cruel, but there was a softness there. There was a heart in there somewhere.
It was a heart she didn’t want to break.
#
That didn’t mean that she couldn't have her fun with them.
“Captain Guts!” She called out, chasing after him in the courtyard. She’d been waiting patiently for Guts and Griffith to have their usual meeting in in front of the west stairs and then walk around the grounds together. It was almost cute, that they kept this standing appointment, and she almost hated to interfere. However, she was also extremely bored and trying to avoid her father and her ladies in waiting. Guts slowly turned around, his sword slung over his shoulder as usual, big brown eyes wide and startled. She’d been watching for him, waiting for him. Like a panther in the woods, like in the stories she used to read to Adonis. It was almost comical, how he was prey to her, and he knew it. His eyebrows raised as she finally caught up to him, watching her pant from exertion.
“You alright there, your highness?” He asked cautiously.
“Oh, just fine Captain, just fine!” She said, laughing a little too high-pitched. “How sweet of you to worry!”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know how you can run in those clothes.” He said, scoffing. “It’s cruel what they force you women to wear.”
“I suppose one gets used to it.” Charlotte looked around dramatically, like she’d seen Griffith do that night. “But there are ways around it. Don’t tell anyone, but I didn’t wear my corset today.”
“I, uh, don’t know why I’d tell anyone that,” Guts said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Oh, yes. I was hoping that you’d seen Sir Griffith somewhere.” She smiled sweetly. “I wanted to speak with him, perhaps go for a walk.”
“I haven't seen him today, no.” Guts said. “He's probably at some stuffy meeting or something.”
“Is that what they're like? I've never been to one.”
Guts' face twisted into a grimace. “I mean, I haven't either, I just know what nobles are like, a bunch of stuffy arrogant blowhards, so....” It was endlessly refreshing that Captain Guts spoke his mind around her because he very clearly didn't care about her station. It was also endlessly amusing to watch him backtrack when he finally did realize who he was talking to. “I mean, not all nobles are stuffy. Or arrogant. Or...blowhards. You're not, but you're...” Guts sighed. “I stabbed myself in the foot, didn't I?”
“I won't tell them. I think they're a bunch of twits myself.” That earned Charlotte a smile. “Sir Griffith is smarter than all of them anyway, I hope they listen to him.” She threw in some swooning for effect, every bit a love-struck puppy.
“He is.” Guts said, a fond grin on his face.
“And he's so handsome...all the girls at court talk about him. Some of the men too.”
Guts' lip quirked in a likely attempt to stop a snarl. “They do, do they.”
“Oh yes. He's much more fine-boned than any woman I've ever seen. My step-mother is envious of his prettiness.”
“If I looked like her, I'd be too.” Guts muttered.
Charlotte let out an un-lady like chortle. “Good thing Sir Griffith has you to protect him from all these jealous nobles.”
“I do my best.”
“Maybe you should sleep in the same room every night, just in case some arrogant blowhard gets...ideas.” Charlotte said, as innocently as possible.
Guts's face was starting to turn a lovely shade of bright red. Charlotte wondered if she could get a dress in that colour. “That's not a bad idea.”
“We could even put two beds in one room for you....unless you don't need more than one.”
“I...uh....I don't know what you're implying, but I....”
Charlotte gave him a knowing look. It was sadistic, perhaps, but she was enjoying watching Guts squirm. He needed to know, should her relationship with Griffith go forward, that she knew that this large stuttering man before her was Griffith's chosen love, and that he couldn't fool her. “I'm good at keeping secrets, Captain Guts. I hope you are too, or else there will be trouble in your future.”
The Captain Guts she had first met was re-emerging. She could see the anger rising in him, in the way his muscles started to tense, his jaw tighten. “If you're threatening me...”
“I'm not.” She wasn't. “I'm telling you that we both know the laws. We both know what happens when secrets get out.”
“And you'd keep that secret?”
“I would rather not see Sir Griffith come to harm...nor you.” Charlotte said, smiling kindly at Guts. “You are to be the greatest swordsman ever, after all.”
Guts let out a long sigh. “I...appreciate it, kid.”
Kid. That made Charlotte happy, and she couldn't put a finger on why. She didn't love Guts. He was so unlike Griffith in every way that it would be implausible to feel the same emotions that she felt towards Griffith. But she didn't have many friends. Perhaps, as he was not Griffith's friend, he could be hers. “Of course, Captain.”
Charlotte spotted Sir Griffith walking towards them. He was moving faster than he usually did, likely trying to get to Charlotte and Guts quickly without drawing attention. “Ah, there he is!” Charlotte said, waving excitedly. “Sir Griffith!”
Griffith finally reached them. “Princess! What a surprise.” He looked confused, looking from her to Guts. “As is...Captain Guts's presence. Is there some sort of emergency?”
“No, not at all! I was just looking for you.” Charlotte said, batting her eyelashes. “I was hoping you'd want to take a walk with me.”
Guts and Griffith exchanged a look. “I normally go for walks with Guts around this time of day, but....I don't mind another companion if Guts doesn't mind.”
“Sure. Sounds fine to me.” Guts grumbled. Charlotte caught his eye and winked at him, and the blush returned.
#
Charlotte sighed, watching Guts and Griffith from her window. They were holding hands, walking through the castle grounds, smiling and talking with each other. Griffith paused mid conversation and gave Guts a kiss on the cheek, reaching out and grabbing the other man’s rear. Guts had sputtered but he didn’t yell, so dedicated he was to not getting caught. They wouldn't be, not by her. Her father kept everyone out of her little wing of the castle, especially the male guards. The maids and her ladies in waiting were busy with laundry. Even if they saw something, she’d make sure they wouldn't report it. Her life would be easier if they did, but she didn’t want to see Griffith and Guts hurt. She knew what happened to sodomites. When she was queen, it wouldn't happen anymore.
Still, she felt her eyes burn. She blinked, determined not to let a simple show of affection make her cry. Sir Griffith was happy with Captain Guts. She knew that he loved him. Sir Griffith wanted to marry her. She wanted to marry him. Commander Guts would be around her constantly if he did. Hating Guts was counterproductive.
She was willing to sacrifice some joy for the dream of living happily ever after with Sir Griffith. She would give up her expectations of fidelity. She would smile, she would be a good wife, she would be a good queen. He would give her children. Sir Griffith would be a breath of fresh air to Midland. He needed to rule. This she knew.
In some ways, it was bittersweet. But it was nothing she hadn’t prepared for.
After all, a good queen could never be truly happy.