Chapter Text
Once upon a time, in a distant kingdom, there lived a benevolent King…
The succession of kingdoms could be a rite of great strife or joy, requiring more than mere possession of blood or power. King Charles had inherited Genosha through his stepfather’s family. It was an unexpected ascension, as Charles was not of the royal family’s seed, but magic was a fickle thing, and had seen both Cain and Kurt as unworthy of the crown.
Charles hadn’t wanted to become King. He wanted to be a mage, but when the kingdom’s magic chose him, he couldn’t help but think this was like wishing for a sip of water and receiving an ocean.
But the kingdom was not to be denied, and so Charles became King. His closest relation was his kin-sister, Raven, a powerful sorceress in her own right who had learned to change her shape at will. As a King with neither partner nor child, Raven became the Prince in Waiting, until the magic so choosed who Charles’ successor would be.
As the Prince, Charles tried to keep Raven within the realms of the kingdom.
“Do not go beyond our borders, sister,” he implored. “My magic cannot protect you, nor will I be able to find you, no matter what glass I scry through, or what animal’s eyes I see through. My magic ends where the land does.”
Raven merely shook her head. “You cannot keep a unicorn from drawing close to maidens, no matter the danger the maiden may possess. You cannot keep me here, when I long to wander now and then, no matter the danger the road and its people may possess.”
And so, when the wind blew west, Raven would pack her belongings and travel the road until the east wind brought her back.
However, in the late fall, the east wind had blown twice, and Raven had still not returned. Charles grew sick with worry, and no matter how he tried to find her, neither his magic nor men could find her.
At last, as the last of the autumn leaves fell, word reached him.
Charles’ Head Guard quickly entered his solar. “Sire,” he said, “there is at last news of your sister! Come quickly!”
Charles followed Darwin down the stone corridors and carpeted halls. “Your sister has been in the grasps of Shaw the Terrible, these past months. But do not worry, sire, she is safe! Saved by a traveling knight. Come!”
Darwin led him to Raven’s room, and opened the door, and there was Raven, her red hair cropped shorter than he remembered. She cried Charles’ name and he rushed into her arms.
They embraced, and exchanged relieved words and affection.
At last she drew apart for him. “You must see the man who saved me, and thank him properly,” she said. “Promise me.”
He promised.
“Now go. Darwin knows where he is.” She watched her brother leave with yellow eyes crinkled in a small smile.
Darwin led Charles to one of the smaller libraries this time, opened the door, and gestured him to enter.
A man stood regarding the lacquered chess set next to the bay window. His clothes were well-worn, his boots dusty, his leather cracked, but the sword he carried at his side was well-cared for. Darwin had let the man keep the sword as homage to the deed he had done in saving the kingdom’s Prince.
“Hello,” Charles greeted.
The man turned to face him and replied, “Good afternoon, You Majesty.” The man had a good face with clear eyes. Charles also noticed he had not shaven in a number of days.
“Sir,” Charles began, and then paused, gathering his breath.
The man shook his head. “I am no knight. I am a blacksmith, as my father was in another land.”
Charles was emphatic. “That does not matter. You helped my sister return home, and for that I am grateful. You are welcome to stay here, until we can be assured Shaw has been slain.”
The man looked at him oddly. “Shaw is dead, slain at your sister’s hand.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I helped her. That’s all.”
“That does not matter, you helped her and so she has asked I thank you as you so richly deserve. I offer you Lordship over half the land.”
“I cannot accept that, Your Majesty.”
Charles frowned. “Do you seek then, the opportunity to court my sister?”
“I do not seek that either.”
“If you will not accept Lordship, nor the opportunity to court Raven, what will you accept?”
“What I will accept is something you cannot yet give, but perhaps with time you might.”
Charles looked at the man in puzzlement. He had promised Raven he would reward the man, and so he would.
“What is something you wish that I can grant you, here, now?”
The man looked down at his feet, observing the carpet pattern beside his boots. “I wish to serve you, Your Majesty.”
“In what manner?”
“In whatever manner you desire.”
Charles considered this man who would do the work of a knight, such as save a kingdom’s Prince, but was not a knight.
“This kingdom has no knight to serve her.”
“Your Majesty, do you need a knight to serve?”
Charles was taken aback by the question.
“Yes,” Charles replied at length. “Yes, I do.”
The man smiled, and Charles began to feel as he did when he first began to learn magic. “Then I accept.”
“I require your name to knight you properly.”
The man nodded solemnly. “Erik,” he said. “My name is Erik.” And he unbuckled his sword, kneeled, and offered it to Charles with bowed head.
Charles grasped the sheath in his left hand. “Well then, Erik. Are you prepared to see magic at work?” Charles raised his other hand to summon the kingdom’s magic. The papers in the room began to quiver and the floors to creak. Erik raised his head and looked around in wonderment. When he saw Charles’ mischievous grin, he returned it with his own.
…who had a steadfast Knight by his side.