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“I’m not cut out for this.”
“Your Majesty―”
“Sam.”
“King Blaine.”
The whole room lets out a muffled groan.
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, may we resume our meeting?” Sir Hunter Clarington pipes up, trying to calm the popping vein from the side of his temple. The whole room resumes their solemn stance.
Blaine remains with his back turned, eyes drifting across his kingdom from the vast window. “Right. Sorry. Wes, please continue.”
“Certainly, Your Majesty.” The Royal Advisor unfolds the map over the table, everyone in their seats leaning forward to get a better look. “The attacks from last night occurred here.” He slaps his long, infamous stick against the circled town on the map. “In Westbrow Village. Around sundown.”
Jeff ducks his head when Wes pulls his pointer back against his left palm. That thing is a menace all on its own. “Any casualties?”
“We received a messenger pigeon first thing in the morning from Duval’s men, and so far there were two houses burned down with many families injured.” Wes’ usually stern voice drops to a softer tone, the room suddenly feeling the weight of the tragedy.
Blaine’s fists tighten against the small of his back behind him, still looking over the soldiers running to and fro for their training, maids bustling with their baskets of food and laundry, horses dipping down to drink their water.
“And we’ve sent assistance?” Sam asks, unable to look away from the map.
Wes nods. “Thad Hardwood and his medical team left as soon as we got the report. They should have arrived some time ago, I hope.”
“And our retaliation? How many men are we sending?” Hunter straightens up in his chair, several heads turning to where he addresses his question. Blaine can feel all their eyes on him.
“Men?”
“Men, Your Majesty,” Hunter tries to keep his calm. His King is too much of a pacifist for his own good. One of the many reasons Hunter is the head of Blaine’s battalion, a natural born leader and stern to keep his men in check. But unlike the young king, he knows when it’s time to fight back.
“You’re suggesting a battle, Sir Clarington.” Blaine gets out through a clenched jaw.
“And the Baptiste family are bringing forth a war.” Hunter gets up from his chair, the others rigid from the rising tension. “We can’t just sit here and keep healing wounds from the destruction that bratty aristocrat is causing. We have to retaliate.”
Blaine turns then, catching Hunter’s eyes from across the room with an unarmed frown, yet he can feel his nerve endings thrumming with fear at the mere thought of war. He’d promised himself the day he was coronated he would never allow any travesty to shower over his kingdom, to put the people in any place of misery, and certainly not voluntarily send off his own men, people he consider his friends, to go fight a battle that can only result in blood and death. He swore he would never be that kind of king.
“No.”
“No?” Hunter blinks, everyone else torn between surprise and otherwise. Everyone in the kingdom already knows their king is too kind-hearted to be in such a position. It was only a matter of time before somebody challenged that. They just didn’t expect it would be by another young noble himself. Lord Jean-Baptiste.
“Wes and I have been discussing strategies of protecting the border at Kingston Bridge. I want my men to help keep the civillians safe, relocate them to a safer place and to hold their ground there and secure perimeters. Nothing else.” Blaine holds up a hand when Hunter opens his mouth to interject. “No blood fight, Sir Clarington. I only want for you to bring forth your best men and protect the people. Stand guard there and stop the oncoming attacks before it gets any bigger.”
Hunter shakes his head, Jeff and Sam exchanging apprehensive glances across from each other. Only the Head of Arms can ever voice their concern over this problematic plan. Even Wes is showing some reluctance over their agreement. “If they attack, we have to attack. This doesn’t make sense, Your Majesty.” He plants his palm hard against the table, making the others jump in their seats. “With all due respect―”
“And with all due respect in return, Sir Clarington,” Blaine says, narrowing his tired eyes at him. “This is an order.”
Hunter and the rest stay silent. King’s word is law. And no one can ever turn against it without committing treason. Hunter grits his teeth.
“I have sent over a message to the Baptiste clan. We can settle this like nobles. Not like barbarians.”
“But, Your Majesty―”
A knock cuts Hunter short, heads turning to the wooden doors creaking as it opens, welcoming a figure into the tense room.
The lines of Blaine’s spine straightens on its own accord, a breath catching at the back of his throat.
“My deepest apologies for being late, Your Majesty.” Sir Sebastian Smythe bows curtly, Blaine merely nodding in acknowledgement before the tall knight makes his way next to Hunter, shifting those bright green eyes between his king and his commander.
“I was just―” Blaine clears his throat, regathering himself after a momentary setback from Sebastian’s sudden presence. He didn’t know Sebastian would be joining this meeting. Hunter is the head of his army, Sebastian only second-in-command, he never attends unless it’s necessary. And that fact frightens him all over again.
Wes comes to the King’s rescue. “We have already strategized a plan for now, Sir Smythe. Sir Clarington will be taking his best men to the border at Kingston Bridge. No retaliation until King Blaine and His Excellency Baptiste has discussed this issue.”
Sebastian’s eyebrows crinkle in between, piercing his eyes into the King’s. Only he could hold that kind of influence in one look, to the most powerful man in the kingdom, no less. “Your Majesty, Nick Duval has returned from the Village.”
“What?” Blaine asks, Sam and Jeff on their feet instantly at the news. “They’re supposed to be holding down the attack.”
“The Village was burned down, Your Majesty,” Sebastian informs him with a rigid tone. Blaine collapses on his hands against the table. “It was quick and well thought of. But we managed to get everyone we could to safety. Women and children first in carriages. And some men on foot.”
“And the rest?” Blaine almost whispers, clutching on to Sebastian’s gaze like a lifeline.
“We have no further news. Duval and the other soldiers are in pretty bad shape. The only thing Duval can report back is that Lord Baptiste’s men are marching forward. They’ll reach the Bridge by nightfall.”
“Shit,” Hunter curses, running his fingers through his hair. Jeff and Sam are uneasy on their feet, no doubt ready to rush towards their friends to help in recovery. “Your Majesty―”
“My plan remains. Stand guard on the Bridge border.” Blaine’s head is spinning, knuckles tight from clutching the table too tightly. Sebastian wants to take a step forward but Hunter’s voice keeps him in place.
“Your Majesty―”
“It’s an order, Sir Clarington. You and your men leave soon. Gather up the best soldiers and I’ll send you all off.” Blaine manages, snapping his head back up to face the people in the room. “Jeff, you join in place of Nick Duval with whomever Thad can send off from the infarmy. Sam, you stay here with me.” The two men nod, Hunter only following reluctantly while Wes rolls up the map with slightly trembling fingers. He would stay in the castle too.
“I’m going with Hunter,” Sebastian says, catching everyone’s attention.
Blaine’s hazel eyes waver only slightly before straightening back up. He’s their king first and foremost, he has to remain the strongest out of everyone. Even when Sebastian spoke of his biggest weakness. “Do you think that’s necessary?”
Everyone remains still, looking back and forth between Sebastian and Blaine.
“You just said he brings the best soldiers. I’m the kingdom’s best knight.” Even Hunter can’t find it in himself to disagree. He’s only the leading commander because he can handle people better than Sebastian’s cavalier attitude known across the seven borders. “I’m going, Your Majesty.”
Their eyes hold for a long moment, almost communicating through their connection. Blaine is responsible for these people’s lives, his soldiers and everyone in his kingdom. People have already suffered in the Village, he can’t let the number of casualties rise any further. He can’t be selfish. He can’t ask Sebastian to stay. No matter how much it destroys him to nod in approval.
-
Horses throttle and neigh as soldiers prepare themselves to leave, tightening up their reins and saddles as the sun slowly sinks down the horizon.
But Blaine remains cooped up in one of the lone rooms somewhere in the castle, unable to tear his eyes away from the muscles of Sebastian’s back before it’s covered by the discarded white undershirt.
In that moment, he curses the Weston lords for killing his parents the night of the Blue War, his brother Cooper for abandoning him years ago for the weak reason of not being “King material”, Blaine’s entire family leaving him to continue the Anderson reign, to force him into the throne at the age of eighteen with no experience and little desire to suddenly hold in his hands the people of this kingdom’s lives. But if he didn’t accept it, Jean-Baptiste would have. And the reputation of his family as cruel rulers didn’t fly over his head during his royal lessons. Who is now only proving such by taking back what he thinks is his from Blaine, destroying the kingdom in hunger and with brutality. So despite Blaine’s fear, he let courage take over. He became the youngest king to have ever lived.
Or maybe he could blame Sebastian himself. Being born into one of the surrounding aristocrats that support the King, Sebastian Smythe was next in line to follow in his family’s footsteps to represent their name. He and Blaine could have met differently. At a ball where Sebastian didn’t spend his time guarding the castle grounds and instead could promise him a dance. At a luncheon meeting where Blaine didn’t give orders to protect the people and towns to Sebastian himself, who would be the very person alongside others to put his life at risk for him and instead share a meal and flirty grins. But Sebastian all his life wanted to serve on the field with a sword in his hand rather than a quill and cufflinks.
They are destined for something else. As a knight who would go to war for his king. As a king who would wish his knight luck upon is service.
“Your thoughts are too loud for me to pin this uniform on, Your Majesty.” Sebastian’s teasing voice break through his reverie, allowing a smile to slide over his lips for the first time that day.
Blaine hops off from the bed, his trousers loose around his waist as he reaches out to button Sebastian’s navy uniform on, smoothing out the red piping over the hard chest.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Sebastian smiles, running the back of his index finger down Blaine’s cheek. “You know that―”
“No.” Blaine says sternly, eyes hardening in desperation for Sebastian to listen. He had cut him off earlier by letting them fall on the bed with tangled tongues and limbs, but they didn’t have any time left for a second round. As much as he wants to. “No war.”
“Your Majesty―”
“My name is Blaine. You know I don’t like it when you call me that,” he whispers, circling his fingers over Sebastian’s wrist, keeping the other in place. “And what I say is law. No war. Jean-Baptiste and I will discuss this matter. I will fix this.”
Sebastian doesn’t say anything, knows there’s nothing he could offer that would change his king’s mind. Blaine never had to face the brink of war as a king, not after his parents were taken away from the last one he had witnessed. Neither of them had. And as much as Sebastian wishes he could take back his place under his father’s wing, reclaim his status as a noble rather than a knight, he would in a heartbeat. If that means he could stay here with Blaine. Safe and unarmed.
But they both know they can never just stay cooped up in this castle when a battle is coming. Sebastian spent his whole life training for this moment. The only thing better than staying in Blaine’s arms is being able to protect him. Even if it means he’ll be out there while his king remains here.
So instead of arguing, he presses his lips softly against Blaine’s forehead, the shorter closing his eyes at the touch, already missing the feeling of having them around him, against his skin, over his mouth.
He hates how much this feels like goodbye.
“This isn’t.” Blaine mutters, answering his own thoughts. “No war. I’ll fix this. You’ll be back soon.”
“I will,” Sebastian humors him. No point in falling for the inevitable all too willingly. Their fates have been sealed. This is the only way they have now. “Of all the kings that have ruled over our kingdom, I’m glad I was born into this lifetime to serve you and only you, Your Majesty.”
Blaine closes his eyes as he buries his face against the thick material of Sebastian’s uniform.
-
It’s been six sundowns since his men’s departure. Jean-Baptiste turned down Blaine’s desperate wish to bargain. More men kept being sent off every day until only Sam and his group of elite soldiers remains in the castle to surround their king.
Another village is being burned down. Wes is running out of advice. Blaine’s hope keeps diminishing every rise and fall of the sun and the moon and the stars.
They're calling it the Battle of Kingston Bridge. Only Hunter’s been allowed to send messages, no matter how many times Blaine wishes someone new would write reports back to him every time he tears out the seal. Jeff is hurt, Thad is patching up more and more soldiers, no sign of the king’s best knight.
If Blaine doesn’t declare it, he can keep denying it’s happening.
-
The tenth sundown comes. Wes and Sam are behind him, exhausted and worn out. But nothing compares to the chip on Blaine’s shoulder, the lost of his appetite and the weariness that has been tearing him down piece by piece since day one.
Another letter comes and Blaine almost collapses in Sam’s arms when he reads Sebastian’s name signed on the bottom.
He almost misses the writing on the crumpled paper.
‘It’s not getting easy, Your Majesty. Hunter is severely injured. We need proper reinforcement and better strategies to go about this growing battle. We both know what this means.
It’s time, Blaine. But it will be okay. I’ll protect you and everyone in this kingdom with everything I have. Just like my King.
Sir Smythe.’
Sebastian’s alive. That alone gives Blaine the strength he’s been needing, the courage and will to keep going and fight for his kingdom. To do what’s right.
-
On the thirteenth sundown, no new messages have arrived, more people are in panic, Sebastian’s message still in his fist, Sam’s fingers gripping his shoulder.
“You are, by the way, Your Majest―Blaine," Sam tells him kindly, his right-hand Guard always a constant friend by his side. Blaine's not sure where he'd be without him. Especially at a time like this. And with Sebastian out there fighting his battles. "You are more than cut out for this," he elaborates his long ago reassurance, the words perhaps holding a lot more value now. "You're a great king, Blaine. The people love and adore you like every one of us here in the castle do." They smile at the same time despite having Blaine's back turned to the other, both tired and faint. "The late King and Queen Anderson would have been so proud of you."
Blaine closes his eyes, can feel his ribcage coiling around his chest, his heart pounding faster and heavier.
"You're doing the best you can. No questions asked."
"Except that I'm not," Blaine finally speaks up when he reopens his gaze, words coming out strained as his throat closes up a little. But he remains standing tall like always, holding himself together with a renewed set of determination. "Not yet anyway."
Sam frowns behind him. "Your Majesty?"
“Declare war.”