Chapter Text
“We're going to have to take Princess Mizi by force.” Luka declared, hitting a fist on his palm with a decisiveness to his voice.
“Eh?”
Luka stared blankly at the royal advisor in response, expression unmoved. The man broke out into a disbelieving grin, a singular fang tugging at his bottom lip.
The castle hallway they found themselves walking in was adorned in fine drapery, fiery colors of the sunset seeping through lucent cloth, flickering along the walls as if it were the mark of a flame. Luka and this particular advisor– Ivan, was his name– had chosen this thankfully empty stretch of the castle as their place to discuss extremely important political matters. The kind that should be discussed in the shadows of a dark, locked room, the kind that could upheave the carefully constructed tranquil balance between the very kingdoms themselves– yes, the usual.
It wasn't Luka's ideal location, to be honest. He'd prefer to be sitting down at least at a proper table, maybe even having some tea and sweets; But alas, that restless royal scrub had locked onto him, and, as usual, insisted they talk right then and there. This was a common pattern. ‘His highness asked this’, ‘his highness wanted us to do that’, ‘what about the task his highness assigned us’-- truly, being the right hand men to the king was more akin to being two glorified errand boys.
“We've exhausted every other option, and the king is getting impatient. You remember, yes? ‘do whatever you need to, use whatever means. Just bring her to me.’ Those were his highness’s precise words.”
Ivan maintained his incredulous grin. “And of course that screams ‘please go commit an act of political treachery’ to you.”
“Well, obviously that would be the least ideal course of action.” Luka sighed, fiddling with his cape absentmindedly. “But haven't we tried everything else?” He stopped in his tracks, feet tired, and turned around to face Ivan head on instead, stepping closer with a lazy sway. “I’ve sent a formal letter of invitation, written up a kingly request, and every other official way we could get her to come to our kingdom. Not a single response across the board.”
The advisor gave a frustrated sigh, before reluctantly nodding. “I’ve just about exhausted my connections, too. It’s hard to get Princess Mizi to travel to our… unfortunate kingdom on such short notice. Especially since she’s already busy entertaining guests from the Ice Kingdom.”
Luka nodded with a wry smile. “Right. So you’ve done everything on your end, and I've done everything on mine. Let's get straight to the point. After all, this is clearly a serious matter to him.”
Ivan shook his head. “It’s uncharacteristic, even for Till. He’s not the kind of man to just go around ordering kidnappings on a whim! Especially not one for Princess Mizi…” He waved his hand, a twinge of annoyance in his voice. Luka paid it no mind.
“As if he doesn’t send you to the dungeons every other day.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“It just is.” Ivan tilted his head up with… pride? How was being punished by the king a matter of pride? “You wouldn’t understand the intricacies of our long relationship.” He snarked, popping the p teasingly, and Luka couldn’t help but silently agree. He really wouldn’t understand.
The blonde rolled his head back, hearing a crack as his neck stretched. His muscles were still aching from all the training he’d done yesterday, and he felt his head pulse with a familiar dull pain. Pulling at the collar of his turtleneck, he managed the politest face he could as he offered a compromise.
“How about this? I’ll give you another week to find some way to wrangle Princess Mizi here, and if you can’t manage it, you and I will just go fetch her ourselves.” He motioned between them. “You have connections, and I have ability. No knights or other personnel involved. It would be simple for us, wouldn’t it?”
Ivan stared at him for a few moments, sighed, and nodded with a pout on his lips. “Alright, alright, Sir Knight Captain. I understand. I’ll figure it out before then, so don’t you worry your pale little complexion off about it.” He groaned as he stretched his back, puffing his chest out into his air. Luka’s eyes were drawn to the way the thick furs around his neck curved with the arch of his torso, briefly glancing over before he was interrupted by another pang in his head as the sun caught the corner of his eye.
“Mmmm… yes, got it.” He yawned, lightly fanning over his mouth with a gloved hand. “In that case, I’m going to go catch some beauty sleep. My pale complexion will be just fine.”
Ivan flashed a white smile, and Luka swore the sun reflected light directly off of his teeth. He squinted his back, and gave him a half-hearted wave before sauntering off to his quarters.
“...It’s Acting Knight Captain, by the way,” he corrected. Ivan let out a dry chuckle before walking the opposite direction, metal soles clicking against the tile and ringing loudly in Luka’s already pounding head.
Apparently, sleep in peace was not a luxury a Knight Captain was privy to, Acting or not. The second Luka passed the training fields to get to his quarters, a crowd of pages and knights flooded to his side, all clamoring about one thing or other.
“Captain, I wanted to show me that move from yesterday up close!”
Luka pulled out his rapier, and the crowd all shot back as if wounded by the act of him removing it. He gracefully twirled it in one hand before flicking his wrist to imply the sword was moving one direction, before changing course mid movement and sharply slicing it the other way.
He sheathed it.
A young girl spoke up. “Captain, I know you showed me last week, but I forgot how to parry…”
Luka firmly pressed his lips together. Could that junior not have asked anyone else? Everyone here knew the basics.
The rapier returned to his grip, sliding out of its holster again. He held it up and took proper form as the page did the same. “You twist to parry the opposite orientation of your opponent’s sword. Block the hit in the middle, or else the force will send your blade flying backward.”
He struck obviously, but with harmful intention, at the page’s side, who hurriedly raised his blade to block as instructed. The force of Luka’s strike pushed his blade backward, but before he could make contact with the girl’s waist, she stumbled backwards, falling onto her palms.
“See? Let my blade strike too near the tip and it will go twisting around like a clock hand.”
He sheathed it.
“Oh yeah? Parry this, captain!”
As every noise escalated with this migraine, Luka heard it before he saw it. The drag of the rapier against its sheath, the swing of it cutting sharply through the air.
Behind him.
Luka practically ripped his own weapon out, before cleanly swinging behind him, keeping it posed upright. A clang sounded as metal hit the ground.
The audacious knight’s eyes were sparkling as she knelt down to pick up her weapon, flung to the ground at the force behind Luka’s parry. He let out a sigh, before closing his eyes and mustering his most polite smile.
He sheathed it.
“Are we quite done?”
The crowd murmured amongst themselves, glancing awkwardly between each other, and then to Luka, once they’d reached an unspoken understanding.
They all bowed. “Yes, captain! Thank you for your time!”
When they’d finally all dispersed, going back to hitting at dummies, Luka felt his limbs grow heavy, and resisted sinking into a slouch. He rubbed his fingers against his temples, and felt a familiar numbness in their tips.
He adjusted his gloves. It was time to go to bed.
Luka wished he was in bed right now.
He hurriedly backed up against the wall, peeking around the corner as he heard the footsteps of guards, and huffed out a tightly held breath as said footsteps passed without turning his way.
Ivan had, of course, not managed to get the princess in his allotted time limit. So they went with Luka’s (easier) plan. They sat down at a table, planned things out briefly, and settled on a date, and that’s how he had ended up here. Ripe in the middle of a foreign kingdom’s castle, making haste to her bedroom.
Ivan had done his job, pulled some strings, and provided him with an easy way in, a disguise, and a clean way out. It was up to Luka to wrangle the princess into that plan. Security grew tighter the closer he got to her room– he’d even had to knock out a couple guards here and there. It was exhilarating, in a way. Rarely did he get to show off his skills seriously in his home turf, and being thrust into under the table work like this really allowed him to spread his wings, and prove that practice paid off. A reckless smile crept onto the corners of his mouth.
Eventually, he came upon a door smothered in pearls and painted a delicate pink– ah, this must be it. Kneeling, he pulled out a lockpick and wrestled with the inner workings of the lock before finally hearing a satisfying click.
Gently, he pushed the door open, wincing slightly as he wasn’t able to avoid a slight creak. He locked it behind him.
There was a lithe figure lying without a single care in the world on the bed, clothed in a creamy white nightgown. The windows were closed, but he could hear steady breathing as the faintest hint of a snore sizzled throughout the room. Approaching the princess, he ripped a strip of cloth off the cape of the borrowed uniform he was using, fastening it on her face as a gag, and detaching rope from his belt, he tied it around her, entrapping her arms against her back.
He hoped Mizi was a deep sleeper.
Steeling himself, he hoisted the princess off of the bed, thanking the stars outside that she was light. He had wanted to hoist her over his shoulder, but he found that the muscle stretched uncomfortably when he began to lift her up. He resigned himself to adjusting her to be carried with both arms.
The princess’s eyes were open. They stared directly into his own, dark and wide. Luka froze.
Surprisingly, she didn’t seem to struggle. She stared at him emptily, furrowing her eyebrows as she adjusted herself the best she could with restricted movement. She continuously glanced at the door, as if waiting for something.
A knock on the door.
A feminine voice rang out, rich and curious, when no one answered.
“Hellooo? Are you in there, princess?”
Luka felt irritation zip through his veins. He had only needed to make it down a floor or two before he could make contact with Ivan’s people, allowing him his smoothly planned escape. With this mystery woman outside the door, what now? His eyes darted around the room, hoping for some kind of royal balcony, but to no avail. That left him just one solution.
He hoisted the window open, and the princess rolled her eyes, wiggling in his arm uncomfortably. He rolled his eyes back at her, letting out a breathy laugh as he climbed outside the window and shut it behind him, sliding onto the roof.
It was a precarious situation. Both of his arms were restricted in their movement, so all he had was whatever friction he could use to keep himself steady in his legs. Thankfully, the roof layout was fairly layered… as long as he kept any leaps he made to short distances, he might have the strength left to make sure he didn’t slip and die. But he might not.
Truthfully, the view from the top was paralyzing, but it was the path he’d chosen. He closed his eyes, concentrated on the sound of his own heartbeat, and opened them again, taking a step forward on the tile.
His breaths came harshly, but it was proof that he was alive. He should use the fear of ending up the opposite to his advantage.
Another step forward. His heartbeat roared in his ears, blood pounding in his head. The princess tensed in his arms, clearly beginning to grow wary of this stunt. Luka lowered his weight onto his lower body, sliding down to a sitting position and scooting to the edge of the roof with his feet.
He sucked in a breath, and pushed himself off, landing hard on the soles of his shoes as he hit the segment of roof below. Pain shot through his calves that had taken the brunt of the landing, and Luka couldn’t help but be filled with exhilaration. He could do this. Now resolved, he repeated the same movements to get down to the next floor, and he was about to jump down when a blunt noise ripped through the air.
It came from the training grounds in the courtyard– a familiar woman was out there, at the damn witching hour of night, hacking at the training dummy as if it had kidnapped the princess itself. Luka watched, hypnotized, as she grunted with each swing, wearing nothing but what he recognized as the black undershirt to this kingdom’s armor. Long brown hair flew out wildly behind her, and after a few minutes, she wiped the back of her fist against her mouth before backing away and craning her head up to the stars, clearly exhausted.
His fingers ran numb, grip on the princess loosening dangerously, cheeks burning through his skull at the sight of her. His heartbeat screamed in his ears as he stared, and he prayed silently a thousand times that her skyward gaze would drift over to the roof he was perched on– that she’d see him, on his high perch, and mistake him as an angel.
But alas. She turned her head to the ground, hung low, and rolled her dominant arm back, before stretching back up and stalking away into the castle. Luka slowly came to his senses, curling the princess closer to his chest before she slipped and fell to her doom. The starstruck feeling remained with him, though, even as he leaped down to the next level.
Hyuna– General Hyuna now, was it? Was even more beautiful than the day she’d thrown her sword at his feet. Than the day she left the knighthood.
The princess kicked mildly at him for the rest of the way, and continued to put up a small struggle when handed over to Ivan’s people. Though, Luka got the feeling it was less truly because she was afraid, and more because it would simply be wrong not to put up some kind of fight.
He nodded solemnly to the cloaked figures. They were to part ways here, Luka boarding a carriage to make his way back to his home kingdom, and the rest of them transferring the princess through more… discreet methods. It really was quite useful to have a royal advisor so connected with the world of the underground. Saved him from the dirty work.
“Remember.” He warned, one foot on the steps of the carriage. “This is of utmost importance to his highness, and is meant to be carried out with absolute secrecy. Kidnapping a princess is not light or honorable work in any fashion, but… if the king demands it of us, we must listen. Do you all understand?”
Slowly, heads nodded.
“Right. I expect to see her at the castle by the morrow. Don’t get caught.” He winked, and stepped up inside, gently fastening the door closed.
In hindsight, Ivan should’ve checked on the prisoner– hostage? Honored guest? First. But Till had been demanding results, and he was all about giving them. He woke up, didn’t bother to comb his hair, and tried to stroll as casually and suavely as possible into the throne room, where he found his king impatiently tapping his foot against marble.
He smiled slyly. “What’s wrong, Till? Waiting for something? Or should I say… someone?” He twirled the fur around his neck, suddenly conscious of his messy appearance when Till’s glare seared onto him.
“Of course I am! How many times have I said it…. “ He frowned, slouching backwards onto his throne. “I just want to see Princess– M… Mizi!” He stuttered briefly, as if the very act of saying her name got him all embarrassed. Ivan sighed.
“Here I thought you were waiting for little old me…” He joked, and Till only fixed him with a hard stare.
“Get serious.” He groaned. “I have both you and that knight freak–”
Ivan did a rather terrible job of stifling a giggle, hissing into his palm. “...Knight Captain Luka?”
Till snickered back, tilting his head at Ivan. “I meant what I said. Uh… anyways, yes– I’ve got you both on the job, and you have my permission to do whatever you need to, so how long could it possibly take? Is there something I need to sign? Approve? You should just come to me right away!” He rested a bare foot on the arm of the chair. Ah, what dignity, for a king to not wear shoes.
He’d been like this since he began his rule. Rebellious, wild, unstable. The late king, Urak, had been less than an amicable father, and such an unsteady upbringing had led the young prince himself to an unsteady rule as the new king– especially with the responsibility of it thrust onto him at such a young age.
But Ivan had always found him fascinating, even now. He didn’t mind, only continued to guide him as his advisor. If it wound up in him being thrown in the dungeons thrice a week, so be it.
But that was enough stalling. He signaled to the attendant at the door with a steady, dark gaze. “Bring her in.”
He closed his eyes cheerfully as he heard the doors open, and the princess be guided in. With any luck, Till would be singing his praises (and, he supposed, Luka’s– but that didn’t really matter) in three… two…
A gasp. “What the!?”
Ivan cracked an eye open, frowning. Till’s face was filled with nervous disbelief as he leaned forward, scrutinizing the woman presumably behind Ivan. His jaw sank.
Ivan turned around.
A remarkably calm girl, about his and Till’s age, with short black hair that starkly framed her pale skin, and purple eyes that bore into some distant spot on the wall. She was still in her nightgown, and she seemed to be shivering. In summary– absolutely not Princess Mizi.
“That’s not Mizi– that’s…!” Till nervously straightened himself up on his throne, pressing a thumb between his teeth. “Sua, from the neighboring Ice Kingdom!”
Ivan slowly rotated his head back to his king, slowly raising his hands in the air. “Huh? Really? My bad…”
The girl suddenly spoke, breaking the silence. “Ah, it’s freezing…” Her voice was steady, but carried a slight tremble, and her shoulders continued shaking.
Till had gotten up from his seat, striding over to Sua. “O-oh, really? This is the north– that must be why…” Ivan wanted to annoy further, to impishly correct him about Sua being from the literal Ice kingdom, but before he could, the doors swung open, and Luka strolled casually inside, white cape billowing behind him, arrogantly graceful. Ivan grimaced. As if this wasn’t all his fault. The bastard probably just picked up the first princess looking girl he saw and made a run for it.
Suddenly, an accusing finger was jabbed at Ivan’s chest, and he stumbled backwards as Till’s spit hit his face. “You! Go bring Princess Sua a blanket or… something else to wear!”
Heat rose to his face, and Ivan blinked, an uncontrollable smile overtaking his features. “Got it!”
“Got it!? Is that all?” Till gripped the front of his shirt, dragging him closer in an embarrassed frenzy, and sending Ivan into one of his own. “You know what… this is all your fault! I told you to do it right!” He glanced furtively between Ivan, then Sua, then Luka, then Ivan again. “What are you going to do now!? Y– you’re the one responsible for this!”
An excitement crept up Ivan’s spine. “...I need to do something? Oh please. Like what?”
Till let go of his shirt, pushing him back with a bright red face and frantically waving his hands at the guards. “I’ve had enough of you! Guards, lock him up in the dungeons! Don’t let him out until I say so!”
“That’s just too much~” Ivan protested, but as much as he would deny it, this routine between them was tried and true.
Yes, this again. Ivan just sighed with contentment as rope was tied around him, and he was dragged away. He used to walk along with the guards, but recently, he’d begun to admire their dedication– so he simply sat still while they used all their might to drag his heavy frame all the way down underground.
Luka, who had moved to stand next to their incorrect princess, hit him with a bored look as he slid past. “Farewell.”
Then, the captain turned to her, raising his hand and whispering in her ear.
“Um… how is General Hyuna doing?”
Sua’s eyes squinted ever so slightly, before relaxing in recognition, though she didn’t do him the favor of whispering back. “Ah, my kidnapper. I thought I recognized you from somewhere. She’s… doing well?”
Till’s eyes went as wide as saucers, his head twisting itself to look at Luka.
“K...”
Ivan suddenly had the genius thought this whole ridiculous plan of Luka’s might be worth it: just for that horrified look on his face.
“KIDNAPPER!?”