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The first rays of the morning light crept in through the windows of the knights quarters. Don's shoulders ached from yesterday's training but she hardly noticed, not when the queen would be waking up soon. Ishmael, queen of Sunspire, ruler of these lands and the woman who had claimed every corner of Don's heart. The last thing she would never admit, not yet of course.
Don dressed quickly, adjusting the pauldrons of her armour and grasping her lance. As head knight, she had the privilege- no, the honor - of being Ishmaels personal protector. She immediately began to dash through the halls, leaving the quarters before any of the other knights even had the chance to wake up.
Don had not been born to nobility, though her hand had been calloused from blade the soonest opportunity she had. As a child she had been a whirlwind of scraped knees and dreams, chasing after the tales of great heroes and legends.
“A knight?” The gruff garrison leader had chuckled when I first presented for enlisting. “You’re barely taller than a spear, girl.”
“Then I shall leap higher!” Don had beamed, undaunted.
Years of bruises and broken blades followed. Don had fought and trained like a storm given form and when trials for the queen's guard had been announced, she had signed up with no hesitation.
She had remembered the day she had been knighted like it was yesterday. Herself and the select few who had been accepted into the queen's elite guard were gathered in the throne room of the palace, already an honor enough. They were lined up, all on one knee.
At the far end of the hall sat her, Queen Ishmael. Don had seen her before of course, from afar, but this… This was much different. She was close, close enough for me to see the light caught in her eyes and illuminated her sunset hair. Don's heart was beating so fast Don thought my pauldron might shatter.
She rose from her seat, every guard in the room tensed, myself included.
“You are here because you are the best.” Ishmael began. Her voice wasn’t loud, it did not need to be given the way each syllable cut through the air like a honed knife.
“The finest warriors. You are the steel of this kingdom.”
She stepped down from the dais, down the steps leading up to the throne. Don's breath hitched as she drew closer, her gaze sweeping over the ranks. A servant approached her, carrying a blade on a velvet pillow which she promptly grasped.
“But skill alone does not make an elite.”
She made her way to the first in line of the ranks.
“Loyalty does. So will you swear it?”
She looked expectantly at the first of the group, who did not dare to look up. After finally realizing he was expected to answer Don hear him stutter out “Y-yes my queen.”
“Then rise, knight of the crown.”
With that, Ishmael lightly tapped both sides of the kneeling knight's shoulders before moving to the next one in line. She didn’t need to restate the question, just waited until the knight gave an affirmative. The process continued, oath, knighting, dismissal, getting closer and closer to Don.
When she finally reached Don, Don let out a shaky breath, she opened my mouth to answer but to my horror she saw Ishmael move. Before Don knew what was happening, her hands were under my chin, tilting my head up.
Don's face must have looked amusing given how the corner of her mouth twitched, her eyes were wide and my face flushed. How could Don not react so, her eyes- god- her eyes were locked onto mine, golden like molten sunlight and sharp enough to pierce amour.
“Name,” Ishmael demanded.
“D-Don Quixote.” she managed to croak out.
“The one that routed the bandits in the north.”
Don jerked her head in a way Ishmael hopefully interpreted as nodding. “A-aye, your majesty.”
Her thumb brushed along Don’s jaw, just once, before she released her. “I expect great things from you Quixote. Do you swear loyalty to the crown?”
“Until my last breath.” She barely trusted her own voice as she spoke
She lifted up the sword, tapping it against each of Don's shoulders. “Rise, knight of the crown.”
The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur, Ishmael finished the knighting, dismissed the guards, and exited the room with the same lethal grace she had entered with.
Don didn’t remember leaving the throne room, nor the congratulations or the claps on her back. She could still feel the searing imprint of her touch on Don’s chin which Don brushed lightly.
She said she expected great things from her. and by every god above and below, Don would give them to her.
That had been nearly four years ago, and only two since she was appointed Ishmaels personal guard.
________
Don had finally reached the entrance to the queen's quarter, the path was worn in her bones and something she could walk with her eyes closed. She took her usual position beside the door to Ishmael’s quarters. It wasn’t long before she heard the familiar rustling of the sheets inside, indicating Ishmael had woken.
Don’s lips twitched. The queen was an early riser by necessity, not by choice. Don sighed as she pictured Ishmael there, scowling as she willed for the day to delay itself a little longer. Perhaps if someone, maybe… someone close to her-were with her, she might not be scowling. Don felt the flush creep up my neck before she clenched my jaw and steadied herself.
These thoughts were a very common occurrence and despite as much she tried to push them out, they came as relentless as the tide. By now the rustling had stopped and Don heard the sound of someone shifting before-
The door creaked open.
“Don.”
Her queen's voice, sharp as ever even through the mask of drowsiness. Ishmael’s silhouette was lightly illuminated, her loose nightgown billowing. Even half awake she was regal, sharp-eyed, commanding.
God’s, she's beautiful.
Don swallowed hard and bowed low, partially out of respect and partially to hide the flush filling her face. “Your Majesty.”
Ishmael turned her back leaving the door cracked slightly open, an invitation. Don followed with no hesitation, this had become the morning ritual for the both of them.
“Thou art as radiant as ever!”
Ishmael rolled her eyes, but Don could catch that familiar lip twitch. She sat at the vanity table near her bed and began to care for her hair. Don moved to the pitcher kept on the nightstand and poured a goblet of water which she promptly brought to Ishmael.
“...Help me with this,” Ishmael held the comb up to me, urging me to take it. She sighed as Don worked out her knots, a skill she had become all too good at over the years
Ishmael reached for the goblet, sipping lightly. “Sleep well?”
“Ah, well enough.” Don answered.
She hummed as she watched Don, “Good, you’ll need it today.”
“Oh? The trade agreements?” Don guessed.
“The trade agreements” Ishmael confirmed, grimacing. “I expect many of the nobles will whine about the tariffs.”
“A most likely outcome.” Don chuckled.
“True.” Ishmael’s gaze flicked to her, amused. “I’ll need you at your best today. No distractions and no daydreaming.
Don’s breath caught. “I-I would never-”
“You always,” Ishmael corrected. “It's not hard to notice.”
Don's face looked like she had consumed fire itself.
“Now, go wait outside. I've got to dress.” Ishmael rose from the seat.
“C-certainly your majesty.” Don quickly strode out of the room and back to her original position, the door clicking shut behind her.
She leaned against the wall, her fists clenched. From inside, the sounds were unmistakable: the quick click of the wardrobe, the soft sound of fabric on skin. Hrr imagination, traitorous as it was, supplied the rest. The curve of Ishmael spine as she stretched, the way her hair would spill out over her shoulder as she put her corset on.
Don gripped her lance tighter.
This was ridiculous, she was the queen's personal guard not a blushing squire. But still, every morning without fail-
A drawer slid shut, and I could faintly hear the sound of stockings being pulled up long legs. Don let out a shaky breath.
Two years. Two years of this, of standing guard, of listening, of knowing , and still it undid Don so. Ishmael could command armies with a glance, bring silence to an entire room, but this quiet intimacy of Ishmael’s morning ritual was what made Don's heart ache the most.
She squeezed my eyes shut.
“Don.”
Don nearly jumped out of skin, she had forgotten Ishmael could be so quiet.
“A-apologies your majesty I-I was just-” Don stammered, very unbecoming of a knight.
“Daydreaming?” Ishmael smirked.
“S-stragizeing! Concentrating!” Don quickly countered.
Her smirk deepened. “Of course.” She stepped past me, her shoulder barely brushing against Don's as she passed. “Come, breakfast awaits.”
Don quickly made to fall in step with her, Don's heart still pounding. Her thoughts were still in a tangle of images of sounds.
Just another morning in Sunspire.
________
Hours later, Don stood at attention beside Ishmael as she sat on her throne and addressed the court. Her voice was sharp, clear and a little bit irritated. It cut through the murmurs of the crowd like a knife through silk.
“The trade agreements with the eastern provinces will be renegotiated,” She declared, her fingers drumming on the armrest of her throne-a subtle sign of impatience. “Any further objections will be heard after the new terms are drafted.”
A lord in an overly flashy attire opened his mouth and rose to protest.
“ That was not a request.” Ishmael added, her voice dropping in tone. The lord shut his mouth and Don had to bite the inside of her cheek to avoid showing a reaction.
She didn’t raise her voice, she didn’t need to. She ruled not by brute force, but with the unwavering certainty of a woman who never once doubted her authority. Don was practically helpless against it.
The council ended with the usual formalities, as the nobles dispersed Ishmael exhaled through her nose. Exhaustion flickered on her face before it returned back to her signature look of neutrality. Her shoulders showed clear signs of tension
Don stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Thou wert brilliant as always your Majesty! Perhaps such brilliance deserves… a respite?”
“Get to the point.” She paused, giving the blonde a sidelong glance.
The knight grinned. “Let us go into the city! The people would revel in thy presence! And-ah-public morale is a vital part of governance, is it not?”
She finally looked at Don, one brow arched. “Public morale.”
“Aye! Nothing shall lift spirits like the sight of their radiant queen among them!” I continued to reason.
“But you’re terrible at subtlety.” She deadpanned.
“But… excellent at persuasion?” The knight questioned, trying to look as cute as possible.
She sighed, Don thought she might refuse but then-
“One hour.”
Don’s heart leapt. “Truly??”
“One. Hour.” She rose from her seat, her dress shifting some. “But if you use the phrase public morale again I'll be putting you on stable duty for a month.”
Don thought she might burst from glee, though she surprisingly managed to compose herself. “U-understood your majesty!”
As they strode towards the palace entrance, Don couldn’t help but steal glances at her queen. The way the sunlight seemed to be absorbed into her hair, the faintest hint of relaxation now in her posture.
One hour.
It was more than enough.
________
“Where to first my queen?” Don giggled with glee.
“ You dragged me out here, you pick.” Ishmael shot her a look.
As they began to stroll through the bustling city Ishmaels posture seemed to relax. Her shoulders loosened and her pace slowed. The weight of the crown seemed to be lifted off of her with each step. Don noticed this all of course. She noticed everything about her queen after all.
Don, making the most out of this rare high from Ishmael, lead her around the town with the energy of a unleashed warhound. They sampled honey cakes- Ishmael snickering at how Don practically shoved it into her mouth, Don haggled for things she definitely didn’t need and cheered much too loudly for a street performer.
“You’re drawing stares.” Ishmael murmured.
Don quickly objected. “Nay thou art, I am but the humble shadow of such radiance.”
Don expected the usual scoff or eye roll but this time Ishmael just averted her gaze, her ears seemed redder than usual. As they continued to prance around the town, one hour turned to two, then three, neither of them mentioned it. Don knew eventually she would have to fall back on her duties and bring the queen back before the search parties began.
Unlike Don, Ishmael had not purchased anything from the many booths they had visited, turning down many of the free things she was offered as well. Perhaps she would accept a gift from Don.
She waited until Ishmael was busy at a spice booth, sampling the various scents. She was likely be fine if Don left for only a moment.
The flower vendor beamed as she approached. “For your lady, knight?”
Don's face burned. “Sh-she’s not-that is-” She cleared her throat. “Aye. The sunflowers please.”
She paid with slightly shaking hands and clutched the bouquet almost as tight as her lance. When she turned, Ishmael was watching her, her arms crossed and her brows arched.
“You’re terrible at stealth.” Ishmael said as Don shamefully made her way back to her queen.
She thrust the flowers towards Ishmael. “For thee…” She said before quickly adding in “Room! F-for thee room…” A beat of silence followed before-
“...They’re impractical.”
“So is thy crown, yet thou wearest it everyday.”
Ishmael stared. Then with a sigh that could not quite hide her smile she took the bouquet of flowers. “At least you picked an appealing color…”
“Ah… Perhaps we have exceeded the allotted time?” By now the sun had dipped behind the highest houses.
Her queen merely shrugged. “So we have.”
“Thou art… not angry?” Don blinked.
“I’ll let the council blame you.”
Don’s laugh rang bright across the square. “A fate I shall gladly bear.”
And she would, for it was worth every scolding in the world.
________
The palace was quiet enough to hear the sounds of a bug moving across the stone floor, Don was in her usual position and her usual shift of guarding Ishmael’s room. The torchlight flickered as Don leaned against the wall, still thinking about the activities of the day and recounting them over and over again in her head. The market, the laughter, the way Ishmael held those sunflowers, then-
“Don”
The voice that came from inside the room was soft, though It jolted Don from her daydreaming. She straightened immediately however and made her way to the door.
“Your majesty?”
“Come in.”
Don’s pulse spiked, this was a most unusual occurrence. She pushed the door open slowly and stepped into the room. Ishmael stood by the window, illuminated only by the candlelight of the room. She had already changed into her nightgown, her hair loose around her shoulders.
Don swallowed hard. “Is something the matter your majesty?”
Ishmael turned to her, her expression was unreadable. “No, I just wished to… speak to you.”
Don nodded, her mind was already racing. Had she done something earlier? Was she about to be relieved of her duties? Such terrible thoughts began to plague her.
“Sit.” Ishmael commanded. Don did, taking a seat nearby the vanity table. Ishmael studied her for a moment, tracing the lines of her face and watching Don’s fingers fidget in her lap.
“You’ve been my knight for two years now.”
“A-aye.” Don’s voice came out rougher than she expected.
“In all this time, you’ve never once faltered. Not in your duty, not in your loyalty.” Ishmael paused. “Not even in your… companionship.”
Don’s breath caught.
“I find myself… Happier. Ever since ive had you by my side.” She hesitated, as if weighing her words.
Don’s eyes went wide from the admission, like she had taken a blow to the chest. Happier. With her.
“I-” Don’s throat tightened. “It is my honor, your majesty. To serve thee in any way I can.”
Ishmael’s eyes narrowed. “You always say that.”
“It is always true.”
“ But why?” Ishmael stepped closer, now looking at her instead of out the window. “Why do you guard me so fiercely? Why do you stand outside my door every night, even when you could hand the simple task to some other knight? Why do you look at me like-” She cut herself off, shaking her head.
Don’s heart hammered against her ribs. She could deflect, saying it was her duty to protect her queen so. But no, she couldn’t last another day without letting her true feelings out.
“I…I love thee, my queen.”
The words spilled out, unpolished, before she could stop them.
Silence followed. Don shut her eyes, bracing herself for a “You overstep” or just a cold rejection. Then-
Ishmael laughed. It was a soft and breathless sound, like she had been holding it in for years.
“I had hoped that was the reason.” She murmured.
Don’s mind went utterly blank.
“Wh-what?”
Ishmael closed the distance in between them with a mere two strides, cupping the knights face in her hands. Her touch was light as a feather as she ran a finger along Don’s jaw.
“You are such an idiot.”
Right then and there, Ishmael kissed her knight. Don’s wide eyes fluttered closed as their lips met. Her hands quickly searched for something to grasp and wrapped around Ishmael’s waist, pulling her closer. It was soft at first, a question, but then Ishmael deepend it.
Don felt hands tangle in her hair, she practically melted in her chair. She had never experienced something like this before, though she couldn’t think of a better place and person. When they finally parted Don was trembling, she felt tingles run up her body. She finally understood what heaven felt like.
“I-” She stammered. “T-thou!”
Ishmael smirked. “Eloquent as ever I see.”
Don’s knees gave out, luckily Ishmael caught her by the waist before she hit the ground.
“T-thou knew??” Don gasped, still reeling.
“ Of course I knew. ” Ishmael brushed a thumb over Don’s inexperienced and swollen lips. “You’re terrible at hiding it.”
Don’s face was red as a tomato. “I-I tried-”
“ Try harder next time. ” Ishmael kissed her again, pushing a whine out of Don. “And for gods sake breathe. ”
Don had inhaled sharply, now realizing she had forgotten to exhale.
“Never been kissed before?”
“I…” Don’s voice cracked. “N-no.”
“Hm.” Ishmael;s expression softened. “Never been with anyone at all?”
Don shook her head, her face burning.
Ishmael’s expression shifted to something unreadable. “Look at me.”
Don obeyed, staring into those beautiful eyes.
“Do you want this?” Ishmael’s thumb traced slow circles on Don’s cheek. “Do you want me?”
“More than anything.” Even through her haze she practically subconsciously answered her queen.
Ishmael’s lips curved. “Good.” She rose from how she had been leaning down to kiss Don and strode to her bed which she moved under before turning back to face Don. She lifted up the covers and raised a brow, leaving an empty space on the bed.
“Well? Going to stay right?” She asked.
Don could barely muster words. “W-wait Ive never. What do I-”
“Just to sleep . Don't get too excited, not yet at least.”
“O-oh.”
“Unless you’d like to stand outside and dream about being in bed with me like usual. The choice is yours.”
“N-no ill stay.” Don shook with each breath. She slowly approached the bed, she was just about to slide herself in when-
“ Not in your armour silly. ” Ishmael giggled. “Dont tell me you usually sleep with it on.”
“W-well a knight must always be prepared to protect… protect her lady.” Don quickly substituted the last part for something other than “her queen.” She quickly moved to take off her amour and finally crawled into the bed.
She laid like a board on the very edge of the bed. She had never been in bed with another woman, and certainly not the woman of her dreams. Her hands remained glued to her sides as she shot glances at the orange haired woman staring at her.
“ Relax Don, I won't bite.” Ishmael moved very close to the trembling knight. And then-
Her head came down to Don’s chest, laying itself there. It wasn’t long before Ishmael’s arm wrapped around her. Don had to take a moment to realize what was happening.
The queen, the love of her life, was resting on her. Slowly but surely she unclenched, the weight of Ishmael practically squeezing the tension out of Don’s body. Besides, she couldn’t be something her queen wouldn’t be comfortable to lay on, she had to be whatever her queen desired.
As the candle slowly ran out, Ishmael fell into the most peaceful sleep of her life, and Don realized life could not get better than this.