Chapter Text
iwaizumi has a lot of things that he questions in his life.
he finds himself second-guessing a lot. sometimes he finds himself questioning his actions, wondering if he’s said or done the right thing, especially with the company he tends to be around. mostly high nobles and literal kings and queens peering down their regal noses at him during banquets and important meetings.
he has to be conscious of himself, as to not upset the frequently delicate personalities he comes in contact with, as to not shatter the delicate atmosphere that suffocates the castle most days, with his gruff nature.
one time oikawa told him that he could be very popular with the ladies, if he were just a bit more charming. iwaizumi responded that he didn’t want to be charming, that wasn’t his goal in life, idiot-kawa.
he was a knight, not a prince, after all. (a fact that would sometimes haunt him, but he would never admit it out loud.)
sometimes during training, he would question if he was worthy of being a knight. he got plenty of praise from commanders over the years, saying he was a talented knight of his generation, but he would always wonder if it was because of his connection to the princess. that even through iwaizumi, she still had an influence on people’s actions. he always made sure to push himself to the point of breaking, to feel like he deserved his place on the battalion, to feel less like a peasant that was accidentally let into the castle.
sometimes when oikawa says something particularly raunchy or outright stupid, he second guesses becoming friends with the brunette. (he knows deep down that he can never get rid of him, that oikawa is a leech that has stuck himself onto iwaizumi so hard he never be free of him, even if he wanted to.)
iwaizumi has a lot of things that waver in his life, that bend side to side on any given day, and sometimes feel like they might snap in two completely, except his one constant. the one thing he can always have certainty in: the princess, he doesn’t second guess you.
so when you’re grabbing his hand and dragging him down to the kitchens at an hour you are definitely not supposed to, not for the first time, he goes along with you without question.
“i overheard one of the kitchen staff during dinner say they were baking blueberry tarts. lets go steal some tonight so we can have seconds tomorrow.” you sound scheming, like you’re plotting a heist of crowned jewels rather than pastries.
the walk from your wing of the castle down to the kitchens at the lower level is journey in itself, down spiralling staircases and through long frigid hallways decorated with various tapestries and memorabilia of ancient kingdoms. the long rugs that cover the floors feel soft under his feet, dampening the sound of your shared footsteps. windows that line the stone walls cast moonlight onto the floor and stone in various sized strips.
your hair and dress are lit up periodically by the moonlight, shimmering, and iwaizumi has flickering thoughts of a star plucked from the sky.
with one more staircase separating the both of you from the kitchen, you look back at iwaizumi with an excited smile, and his heart squeezes painfully in his chest. he can’t help but notice how beautiful you look with the moon casting shadows and illuminating your royal features. and then he catches himself, because he’s not allowed to think you look beautiful. the moon can’t admire the beauty of the ocean that it will never touch.
you live in two separate worlds, two different stories set ahead of you, two different lives that won’t intertwine in the way that he wants with all of his heart.
because a knight, and a prince, are leagues apart, and only one of them will ever be allowed to love you.
he refrains from looking at you for the rest of the walk to the kitchen.
unlike the rest of the castle, the kitchen isn’t a place of great grandeur. the walls aren’t decorated particularly well, none of the same metal armour and family portraits bejewelling the room, but he knows that it’s one of your favourite parts of the castle. you’d always said that it was easier to pretend here. without the blaten aristocratic look of the rest of the castle, you could pretend you were anyone else. when you’d told iwaizumi this, he’d gotten this strange feeling inside of him that he didn’t quite understand when he was younger, but he knows now what it is.
courage.
he feels it now, thinking about it. he feels it itch at his legs and arms, telling him to grab you and run. to run and never look back.
just as swiftly as it comes, it fizzles away with time. the tree that is iwaizumi’s hope grows quickly, but it dies just the same. when it falls, it falls fast and hard and it shakes him back into reality.
back into the kitchen that he is now stepping inside, with you leading the way.
during the day, the kitchen is bustling with energy and loud commands from the head cook. aromas of all kinds reach into nearby hallways and grab at anyone who may be lingering close enough, tugging them towards the delicious meals and pastries.
right now though, it almost seems like an entirely different place. its illuminated only by the small lamp you carry, and there’s not a soul in sight beyond you and iwaizumi, which is how it should be. the knight has no doubt in his mind you would both be in trouble for this endeavour. the king runs a tight ship with his rules and curfews, especially when it comes to you.
you, who’s currently shimmying a whole tray of blueberry tarts out of the cooling racks and setting it down on the counter. iwaizumi watches as you scan them like they’re glimmering rubies, picking out the biggest.
when you take a bite, you hum and close your eyes in satisfaction, a look of pure bliss on your face.
which is why he’s surprised when you offer the tart you have already taken a bite of, the one you had scanned for carefully to make sure it was the best, to iwaizumi. his heart soars in his chest, an indirect kiss, he thinks fleetingly to himself.
when he looks at your face, there is no slyness there, no hidden seductiviness or shrewdness. you are not a demon sent from the underground to tempt and torment him, even though it feels like it some days. only an open expression with genuine good-naturedness stares back at him, only wanting to share.
god dammit, get your mind out of the gutter. you’ve been spending too much time with oikawa. and then he reaches in and takes a bite, and it’s almost as delicious as the smile that splits your face from ear to ear.
you look like the cat who got the cream, sitting atop one of the counters and eating blueberry tarts until your heart’s content. you’ve always had an affliction for sweets, something “very unprincess-like” some of the cooks would say, but iwaizumi found it endearing. you didn’t have a lot of choices in life, so why strip you of the few you do?
he knows, come morning the cooks will grumble about you and your thief like tendencies when they notice the missing pastries. luckily for you, there’s not much they can do about it without solid proof that you are the pastry burglar, even though everyone knows the truth.
after you’ve successfully completed your heist, the walk back to your room is mostly quiet, dampened by moonlight.
sometimes iwaizumi wonders what you think about when you’re not speaking. sometimes he wants to take his armour off and dive into the deep ocean that he imagines your mind as. because for all your wide smiles and sunny looks, you have a habit of spending a lot of time inside yourself, trapped in your own mind, something you didn’t inherit from the king.
he wonders if your mind truly is all butterflies and tiaras like most people say, (a silly thought, he knows the truth), or if it is the deep chasm he sees reflected back in his own mind. a festering pot of unsaid words and fairytale stories of “what ifs”. he wonders if you’d ever leave this kingdom, if given the chance.
would a caged rabbit run if presented with an open door, or would it freeze?
he wonders all this, and then he tells himself that wondering never did anyone any good at all.
~
“the banquet is coming up, how are you feeling?”
you’ve made it back to your room without upset, no lingering guards or maids discovering you on your late night rendezvous. and now it’s time for iwaizumis least favourite part of every day: goodbye.
you freeze when you process his words, like a mouse that has just smelled a predator upwind. instantly, he feels like the biggest asshole in the world for bringing it up, even though he knew how you were going to react reminded of the ghost that haunts you. your duties as a princess that weigh on your shoulders the same way his armour does on his.
among all of the servants, all of the cooks and cleaners and guards, among all of your relatives, iwaizumi knows he is the only one you can be truly selfish with. your knight is the only one you can bear your heart to, show your troubles and worries to and instead of snatching them away or scolding you or seeing it as a weakness, he will cradle you. he will cradle the broken wing that is your heart and wait for you to fly again on your own time.
he’s the only person you are allowed to be selfish with, he’s the only person you’re allowed to be less than a princess in front of, to just be you, and he will make sure you use it to your full advantage.
all at once, instead of looking frightened, you just look a bit sad. it makes him feel ten times worse.
“it doesn’t really matter how I’m feeling, does it?”
iwaizumi wants to take you away from the castle, put you on his horse and ride far, far away from this place that sometimes seems more like a prison than a kingdom. its a selfish fantasy, he knows. he knows that as long as you are here in this castle, no harm will come to you. you have your whole wealthy, privileged life ahead of you and he could never take you away from that.
but he wants to be selfish, anyway.
“it matters to me.” and it sounds more like a confession than he meant for. it was meant to reassure you, give you a glimpse of hope, but it sounds like a vow.
you look up at him suddenly, like you’re just as shocked by the conviction in his words as he is. and he wishes he could rewind time, just to get another glimpse of your face biting into a blueberry tart, filled with elation.
but then your face softens, and he gets this squeezing feeling in his chest as you look like you might cry.
“thank you, hajime.” it’s whispered into the air between you, bouncing around in his brain. hajime. hajime. hajime. hajime. it’s not the first time you’ve said his first name, but it never gets any easier on his heart.
suddenly though, you’re leaning in, and he doesn’t have any more room to think about his name on your lips.
your arms wrapped around him feel like home, and it hurts him just the same when you pull away.