Chapter Text
“I will go on the journey alone.”
The Prince’s words were firm, her voice unwavering and look in her eyes determined.
“You need a guard with you, Your Highness.” One of her advisors spoke from the other side of the table. “The tradition calls for it.”
“The Crown’s Heir touring the nation is the tradition.” The Prince keeps her composure but she can feel the sigh she wants to let out at the bottom of her throat. “Not who accompanies them.”
“You are about to receive the Crown, Your Highness,” another advisor spoke up, “We—the nation—need you safe on this tour. Once you return from your travels, you are to be immediately crowned, nothing can be risked.”
His voice scratches against the Prince’s ears.
The Prince had known all of this, her advisors weren’t telling her anything new.
“The tour is meant for me to meet my people, to live with them. The people are meant to befriend their next King.” The Prince retaliates, her voice calm and firm despite her rising frustration. She couldn’t let it show and she never did. “Bringing a guard with me will only build walls between the people and I, show them that I am not trusting of them.”
“This should not be grand—I am to be with my people.” She repeats her point.
“And you are to be with the nation after this all ends.” One of the advisors pushes back, “No risks can be taken.”
“I can handle—”
“ Colet .”
There is a voice, stronger and far more aged than hers that finally speaks up from the head of the table. It doesn’t vibrate or boom through the walls of the council room, but it fills it nonetheless.
The Prince closes her mouth and looks to the head of the table. She sees her father, the current King—the man who trusted his daughter enough to step down and pass on his nation.
“Colet,” he repeats again and it is there she remembers that she is not just The Prince, “You will not bring a guard.” His voice softens and there is a small smile that graces his lips as he looks at her.
She was someone’s daughter.
“But you will bring one knight of my choosing.” He finishes, a smug smile on his face because he knows that his daughter cannot fight him, cannot fight his logic.
Colet finally lets out the sigh she was holding back, not caring about her advisors anymore. She wanted to consider this a victory, but seeing the expression on her father’s face, she knows she has lost.
“I don’t just need The Prince safe,” he begins, command back in his voice, “I need my daughter safe.”
Colet can’t fight against it, can’t fight against how her heart softens just a little.
“Fine,” she almost mumbles, but she keeps her composure lest her advisors witness a daughter and her father bicker at the table any further. “And who is the knight of your choosing, Your Majesty?”
“Grand Knight Arceta.”
—
Colet knew of the Grand Knight and she knew that everyone in the nation knew of Grand Knight Arceta too.
Colet wouldn’t have been surprised if the neighbouring nations also knew of her.
Grand Knights were rare, a ranking and position only to be filled by a select few who could display the greatest strengths of a people and who proved the utmost loyalty to the crown. They were celebrities in their own right simply out of their scarcity.
In her own nation, there were only three.
They were respected by the royal family and revered by the people.
And Colet knew them well enough.
Her status as the nation’s Prince called that she interacted with them every few months. Banquets, reports, political events—she was at least acquainted.
Grand Knight Robles was a childhood friend who Colet had always known as Jhoanna. An aspiring scholar who somehow got swept into leadership and outreach travels. Colet had always known and had always told her that she would become one of her most trusted advisors once she took her place on the throne. The weight of the crown would be lighter with a trusted friend by her side.
Lim was a Grand Knight to the tee. Quiet, observant, and always calculating. Lim—no, Mikha —was a knight who was always on patrol, watching over the people and surprisingly useful in negotiations. Colet likes to think that Mikha’s presence was enough to make other nation’s feel safe but she knew deep down, other rulers all thought the same thing—she was better an ally than an enemy. The crown would be shielded with such a silent, but reliable presence.
But Arceta was an anomaly in the system.
Loud and rowdy at political events, yet too soft and sensitive in a way that Colet thought was a better fit as an occasional advisor at best. Maybe an instructor at the nation’s academies, but a Grand Knight of strength and power was out of the question. She was bubbly, far too energetic, far too relaxed and barely the image a Grand Knight was supposed to uphold.
Colet wonders how the woman became a Grand Knight in the first place.
How she became so famous and endeared by all is something she could never come to understand.
Grand Knight Arceta was too different from what Colet imagined someone in her position—someone with her duties—would be like.
And yet—
“I know that you are the Prince,” her friend— Jhoanna— starts next to her as they walk down a corridor, “But heed my words when I say that Arceta is the best of us.”
Her guard down, Colet only gives her friend a scoff and a roll of her eyes.
It makes Jhoanna laugh and say “Her troops are the most loyal, she is the most successful in rescue missions, she has led countless victorious battles, and she does it all with the least amount of losses.” She lists everything Grand Knight Arceta was known for, her voice sounding proud and it rubbed Colet the wrong way.
Her friend continued nonetheless.
“She has Mikha and I beat in just about every category, her strength is monstrous, Colet.” Her friend smiles as she nudges her shoulder with her own, “She is an asset to the kingdom—to your kingdom.” Jhoanna reminds her, as if telling her that getting to know the Grand Knight was worth it and something she should be doing. “She is also our leader, Colet.” Jhoanna stops in her tracks and looks at her friend more seriously, “She is at the top of our nation’s trinity of Grand Knights.”
Colet stares at her friend, one of the most powerful in her kingdom and keeps silent for a beat. She almost considers her words, almost takes them seriously, but instead gives her a simple hum in response.
The conversation was over, Colet was walking forward and was ready to discuss something different. Jhoanna followed, her head still held high as she spoke, “You’ll see, Your Highness.”
—
“Four months until your reign begins, Your Highness.”
Colet almost lets out a stifled laugh as she watches Mikha walk up to her and bow on to one knee. She watches from her throne as the second of her Grand Knights keeps her head down, still respectful in the presence of tradition despite their comfortable friendship.
“How many times must I tell you Mikha?” Colet is relaxed when she speaks, no other people in the room besides her and her friend, “You have been my sparring partner since we were children, we are friends .” She signals for her friend to lift her head up and stand, “If it’s just friends, formalities are not necessary.” Colet waves it off with a soft smile as she stands up from her throne and walks towards Mikha.
“What brings you here? You don’t usually request a formal audience with me.” They begin to walk, side-by-side and falling into a comfortable rhythm.
Mikha cuts straight to the point like she usually does, not wasting any time, “You will be on a four-month long journey with no guard.” She looks towards Colet—no, she looks towards the Prince as she speaks, “I respect that you are a humble-hearted leader, Colet…” her voice trails off, carefully considering her next words, “And I know that this is a peaceful journey, but are you sure?”
Colet gives her friend a sigh, but there is a fond smile on her lips nonetheless. She appreciated the concern and she knew that what she was doing was fairly unconventional. Usually the tour—what their nation called the Crown’s First Journey—was grand, almost like a parade that lasted four months and walked through countless towns. It was a party for a whole nation, but Colet believed in something different.
“I don’t want my people to think I am not reachable, that I’m some sort of celebrity,” Colet started, “I want them to know that I am one of them and our hearts beat all the same.” It’s what she believed to be true, “I cannot care in solitude.”
Mikha looked down as they continued to walk, a hum leaving her and a slow nod. Her lips were pressed together as she mulled over her friend’s words. “I suppose you're right,” she gave in with a casual shrug, “And you’ll be with Grand Knight Arceta so I know you will be safe.”
Colet figures that the change in her mood must’ve been noticeable because Mikha lets out a small laugh beside her.
“Does she bother you that much?” Mikha asks half-jokingly.
“She does not bother me.” Colet almost huffs like a child, “I am just wary.”
“You don’t trust her?” Mikha is almost shocked, “She is the people’s choice, Colet.” They walk out into a corridor and on a path that led to one of the castle’s gardens. “She was chosen by the current King as a candidate for her position and the people’s vote was almost unanimous, you can’t forget that, right?”
Colet only sighed in response.
Of course she knew that.
Everyone knew that.
Every person in the whole nation seemed to know that.
“With how everyone seems to gush over Arceta, you would think she is a celebrity rather than the Knight she supposedly is.” Colet says it in exhaustion, glancing over to bright flowers as they entered the garden. After a beat, she gives in and admits, “She is nothing like you or Jho.”
“You simply don’t know her.” Mikha smiles at her friend who is still busy staring off into the flowers. “She is the best of your people, Your Highness.”
—
The last time Colet had seen Grand Knight Arceta was a few months ago.
The Knight had formally requested an audience to give a report of a rescue mission she had been tasked with and to Colet’s dismay, the Grand Knight was incredibly relaxed.
As if the mission was just another stroll for her, as if it wasn’t an important duty that didn’t just have to be fulfilled, but upheld with intense dignity.
Grand Knight Arceta spoke with ease, light and even cracked a joke in front of her.
The audacity.
Her energy was more akin to an entertainer and nothing like the firm aura of the other Grand Knights she knew.
The Prince couldn’t wrap her head around it. She couldn’t help but ask herself how the Grand Knight in front of her had captured the hearts of everyone.
Is it just because she is pretty?
The Prince shakes off the thought as soon as it enters her mind.
Instead, she takes notice of Arceta’s comfortable posture, her confident aura that The Prince is convinced is cockiness.
She thinks of Mikha’s words and figures that her friend is wrong. She knew the Grand Knight in front of her well enough.
She was seeing everything she needed to see.
So when the Grand Knight finished her report and flashed Colet a smile so bright that the latter thought there was no way that the woman in front of her was taking any of this seriously, The Prince spoke—
“Arceta,” her voice was commanding as it filled the entirety of the throne room, “The nation is not in need of a jester.” She knows her words were harsh, but so was the gnawing feeling in her stomach that relentlessly told her that everything about the Grand Knight in front of her was out of place.
And to her shock, she sees the faintest of smiles on the Grand Knight’s face and Colet swears it's a ghost of a smirk.
The Grand Knight puts a hand on her sword’s hilt as it hung from her waist, sheathed away but a proud symbol nonetheless. She was sending a message and Colet could see it as clear as daylight.
“My strength and my sword will only ever bring this nation victory, Your Highness—” Arceta bows down, descending on to one knee out of respect for The Prince.
But then she glances up and makes eye contact with Colet, glint in her eye.
“—And a smile from The Prince is one of those victories.”
It makes Colet’s blood boil.
—
Colet’s departure was set for dawn.
Quiet and in the peace of the early moments in the morning.
She wouldn’t have preferred it any other way. She knew that for the journey she was taking, there was nothing else that suited it better.
So when she exited the castle and was met with the energy of a thousand suns, she almost lets a scowl slip past her lips.
“Good morning, Your Majesty!!”
And there she was.
Grand Knight Arceta.
Colet pauses briefly in her steps to take in the sight of her.
The Grand Knight was leaning against their carriage, carefree and relaxed as if she wasn’t about to start one of the most important missions of her life. Her right hand was busy waving while her left was holding a luggage that Colet figures was about to be packed away.
Then she took in the Grand Knight’s appearance.
Colet was aware that in their academies, knights were instructed to always maintain a proper demeanor. Neat and not a single thing left out of place, knights were supposed to look strict and disciplined.
But somehow, even as a Grand Knight, those rules didn’t seem to apply to Arceta.
Clad in armour that had clearly seen better days, her hair was tied up into a high ponytail and it was nothing like how most knights were trained to carry themselves. It was almost messy, some hairs falling and framing her face and a few thin braids falling loose.
It felt like a disregard to the rest of her knights.
And the sword on Arceta’s back called for just as much attention.
Colet tries her best to keep it subtle as she raises her eyebrow.
The sword was slung around and rested on the Grand Knight’s back. It wasn’t the one Colet remembers from their last meeting. The sword Arceta was equipped with now was huge . The hilt was reaching past the Grand Knight’s head and the end had at least reached her mid-calf.
The sword was most likely as tall as the Grand Knight herself—hilt to the tip of the blade.
Colet could tell the blade alone was probably as tall as herself.
And its width was most definitely the same size as her forearm, if not slightly bigger.
She recognized the weapon as one that was rarely used, typically reserved for members of the royal family. It was exclusive and Colet knew it wasn’t because of status, but because so few individuals had the strength to carry a blade like that.
Something about Arceta wielding it rubbed her the wrong way.
When she looks away from the sword and finally meets the Grand Knight’s eyes, she puts on the most polite smile she can muster and offers a “Good morning.”
“Ready for an early morning?” Arceta’s smile is bright as Colet walks to the carriage and puts her one luggage inside.
Her bright aura doesn’t waver even as The Prince ignores her greeting.
The Prince makes sure not to spare the Grand Knight a single glance as she puts it away securely and walks over to the horses they were to bring on their journey.
“You have my thanks for setting up the saddles.” Colet’s voice is quiet as she notices the way their two horses were already saddled up and hooked up to the carriage, ready for the journey.
The Grand Knight waves it off as she goes ahead and does any last checks on their carriage.
Colet notices the way the knight adjusts to her. She sees the way Arceta is already preparing to set off after quickly assessing that she didn’t want to waste time with any small talk.
“ You’ll see, Your Highness .” Jhoanna’s words echo in her mind and she shakes it off as quickly as she can.
She’s doing her job. Anything less than this is almost punishable .
Colet looks away from the knight and focuses on her horse instead.
She gave it a pat and mumbled out, “Looks like we’re in this for four months.” She lets a small smile tug at her lips, just slightly, as she hoists herself up onto the horse.
When she looks to her left, the Grand Knight is already seated on her own and she’s giving her another stupid, smile.
Colet doesn’t spare her any words, just a raise of her eyebrow.
“Jho was right.”
The words make The Prince’s eyes widen slightly and there's a jolting feeling that jumps in her stomach.
She watches, still in shock, as the knight throws her head back to laugh. “My apologies, Your Majesty.” She’s waving it off, “I mean no ill intent by my words.” Her smile softens.
“And what did Grand Knight Robles mention to you, Arceta?” Colet stares at her, eyes sharpening, but it does nothing to intimidate the woman in front of her.
“That you and your horse are similar.”
The words almost knock the wind out of Colet.
The Prince makes a mental note to make sure that one of the first orders of her reign will be to scold Jhoanna.
“My horse and I?” She can’t help the deadpan in her voice, her lack of amusement clear.
“Mhm.” Arceta nods as she looks down to her horse and then back up to The Prince, “When I went to ready our horses, yours was already awake and standing at attention—”
The Grand Knight pauses and a brief chuckle escapes her lips, “But there was a good twenty minutes where it just stared at me.” She looks at The Prince, “Sort of like you, Your Majesty.”
The smile that graces the Grand Knight’s lips is slightly different from the earlier ones. It’s bright, but not overpowering and Colet swears, she’s never felt so stressed out in her life.
“And what does my horse’s behaviour and my own say about anything?” Colet grabs the reins, preparing to set off and just wanting to get out of this moment she found herself in.
“You’re both shy, Your Majesty.”
Colet tugs on the reigns and forces them to set off.
She does her best to ignore the way Grand Knight Arceta bursts into laughter.
—
“Are you feeling hungry, Your Majesty?”
Colet does her best to ignore the knight next to her as they dismounted their horses.
They had been travelling for the whole morning and it seemed that the Grand Knight had decided it was time to take a short break.
But The Prince can only sigh at her.
“Why do you address me as “Your Majesty”? That is a title reserved for the King and that is not something I am quite yet.” Colet doesn’t bother looking at Arceta, already knowing that the woman was probably just smiling at her again.
“You’re certainly a stickler for formalities.” Arceta’s tone is light, almost joking.
“Does it not seem wrong to address people incorrectly?” Colet brushes herself off and tries her best not to glare too much at the knight as she looks at her, “Why do you decide against it?”
“To me, you’re already the King.” Arceta says it so casually that it almost enrages Colet. “That’s what this journey is for, is it not, Your Majesty?”
The disregard of this knight—
“But I am not so thick-skulled that I will not change my words if that is what the Heir to the Crown wishes.” The knight shoots her a look, a raised eyebrow and almost knowing, as if teasing her.
Colet can only close her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, the thought that she was going to travel with Arceta for the next four months starting to sink in.
“Quick, catch!!”
Colet opens her eyes to a small bag being thrown at her and it catches her off guard enough that she almost fumbles the catch.
And before she can even register her curiosity and ask, the Grand Knight beats her to it—
“The first of our rations, eat up, my Prince .”
The words scratch against Colet’s ears.
She lets out the quietest scoff she can muster and leans on the carriage.
She does her best to ignore the gaze of the knight as she grumpily opens the bag and—
Inside the bag were pears, mangoes, and a gourd.
Colet assumes it’s just water, but—
“It’s coconut juice.” The Grand Knight walks up to lean on the carriage next to her. She opens her own bag and then shoots Colet a warm smile, “Your father mentioned once that those were your favourite.” She gestures to the contents of the bag. “I snuck into the castle kitchen to get the ripest ones.”
Colet tries to register the knight’s words for a moment and then realization hit her.
“My father?”
Aiah nods, smile becoming so bright that her eyes disappeared. “He mentioned it when I became a knight.”
Colet watched as the Grand Knight straightened her posture and cleared her throat. As she began to speak, Colet became acutely aware that she was imitating her father.
“The Prince is fond of simple fruits—pears and mangoes—and when she was young, she ran around drinking from every coconut she could find.” After reciting the line from memory, the Grand Knight chuckles softly and looks back at Colet, “Those are the things worth protecting, don’t you think, my Prince?”
“I was unaware my father spoke of me like that.” Colet looks away, ignoring the way the Grand Knight looked at her, ignoring the way that interaction had just made her feel, ignoring the way Arceta didn’t call her by the incorrect title, ignoring the way she seemed attentive and maybe, actually, possibly good at her job.
The Grand Knight only laughs at The Prince’s reaction and says, “There was not a single sparring session that he did not speak of you, my Prince.” She takes a quick bite of bread from her own bag of rations. “Robles, Lim, and I learned much of the heir to the throne and even more of Colet, his daughter.”
The sound of her name falling from the knight’s lips almost makes her shudder.
But Colet was too busy feeling her face get hot.
And too busy trying to ignore the Grand Knight’s boisterous laugh.
Of course it had to be those three. Her two trusted friends and the knight she could not stand—of course they had to be the ones to rise as pillars of her nation. Of course they were personally trained by her father.
Grand Knights were always trained by only the best, including members of the royal family.
And of course.
It had to be her father that trained them.
“The first order I’m making when I take the throne is making sure you three tell me everything he has told you.”
The words slip from Colet before she can stop herself, her composure finally cracking.
When the laughter doesn’t stop, The Prince knows that she has lost.
—
“My Prince.”
Colet can only hum in response as she rode her horse alongside the Grand Knight, their journey almost reaching a full day.
“You told me that it is wrong to address people incorrectly.”
“Yes, I did.” She keeps her response short, not wanting to drag this on.
“Why do you only address me as “Arceta”?”
The question is enough to get Colet to stiffen.
“My apologies,” The Prince begins, straightening her posture and ready to follow proper formalities, “I understand that it is important to address you properly, Grand Knight Arce—”
“ Aiah .”
Colet turns to look at the knight.
There’s no smile.
Not even a warm look in her eyes.
It’s just soft eyes, almost unreadable and what Colet can only judge as wistful.
“ My name is Aiah .”
It spills from the knight’s lips so carefully that Colet can feel how fragile it is.
It makes her think back to the morning.
To how the Grand Knight adjusted to her without a single word exchanged.
She thinks of simple fruits and “Those are the things worth protecting, don’t you think, my Prince?”
She feels her heart fold in on itself as “I am someone’s Prince—hers.” just barely crosses her mind, a whisper that fades away as soon as it appears.
Their eyes meets and—
“My apologies, Aiah.”
—
(When the smile on Aiah’s lips reappear and Colet sees the sunset reflected in her eyes—
She feels absolutely floored ).