The castle was louder than usual. Banners hung from every window, fluttering in the morning wind, and servants hurried through the halls carrying baskets of flowers that smelled too sweet to be real.

You sat by the window of your chambers, chin propped against your hand, watching the chaos unfold in the courtyard below. The tournament was all anyone could talk about: a celebration, your father called it. A chance for the strongest knights in the kingdom to prove their valor.

But to you, it felt more like a display of property.

You were the prize.

The thought made your stomach twist.

When the door creaked open, you didn’t even look up. “If that’s another dress, I swear—”

“It’s not,” came a familiar voice. “Unless you want me to pick one out for you.”

You turned your head, already smiling despite yourself. Kirishima stood in the doorway, his usual red surcoat slung over one arm, his long hair tied back. He looked far too cheerful for someone who had to stand guard through a week of tedious sword fights.

“Morning, princess,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “You look thrilled about the tournament.”

“I’m ecstatic,” you deadpanned, shutting the window. “Can’t you tell?”

He laughed, the sound warm and unbothered. “You know, most people would love a festival thrown in their honor.”

“Most people aren’t being auctioned off to the highest bidder in armor.”

“Fair point.” He crossed the room, setting his surcoat aside. “Still, it’s not all bad. You’ll get to see some impressive fights.”

“I’d rather see the library.”

He grinned. “Dangerous place, that library. All those dusty scrolls and heavy tomes. You could get a paper cut.”

You shot him a look that only made him laugh harder.

“Seriously, though,” he said after a moment, voice softening, “I get it. I know it’s not fair.”

You looked away, tracing the embroidered edge of your sleeve. “My father thinks this will strengthen the kingdom. He doesn’t see how it cheapens me.”

Kirishima’s tone stayed gentle. “He’s trying to protect you in his own way.”

“I don’t need protection,” you said quietly. “I need a choice.”

The silence that followed was heavier than usual. When you finally glanced up, Kirishima was smiling with that kind of quiet pride that made your chest ache.

“You’ve got a strong heart,” he said. “If I were one of those knights out there, I’d fight to prove I’m worthy of it.”

You blinked. “That’s a very knightly thing to say.”

“It’s almost like I am one,” he joked, straightening as the bells began to ring outside. “Come on. The first round starts soon.”

-

He hadn’t planned on entering.

The idea hit him later that night, long after the first day of the tournament and the halls had gone quiet.

He stood in the armory alone, torchlight flickering over the rows of helmets and breastplates, the air thick with oil and metal. He thought about the way she’d looked earlier; frustrated, powerless, trying to mask it behind sarcasm.

If he could give her even a fraction of the freedom she wanted— if he could win her hand by choice, not politics— then maybe it would mean something.

He wasn’t delusional; he knew how this worked. A guard had no business courting a princess. But as he looked at the crimson armor hanging in the corner, an old set with no crest or nameplate, he thought, maybe just once, I could try.

The next morning, a new name appeared on the roster: The Red Knight.

-

The tournament grounds were just as loud as the previous day. A blur of cheering, drums, and the sharp clang of metal. You sat in the royal box beside your father, trying to look interested while you waited for the first match of the day.

Kirishima stood at his usual post behind your chair, silent but alert.

When the first few matches began, you found yourself sneaking glances back at him between rounds. He caught your eye once and smiled reassuringly, like he could tell how tense you were.

Another match in and you were just about to make up some excuse to leave for a couple minutes when the announcer’s voice boomed across the field.

“Next match — the Red Knight!”

Your attention snapped forward.

A figure stepped onto the field clad in gleaming crimson plate, no insignia, no house colors. The crowd murmured, curious. His movements were steady, confident— not like the pompous nobles you’d seen before.

He lowered his visor and drew his sword.

You didn’t know why, but your pulse quickened.

You looked behind you to Kirishima just to see him replaced with another knight standing guard. You asked your father about Kirishima’s temporary replacement.

“He had to do his rounds at the castle gates. He’ll be back.” 

You turned your attention back to the fight below, interest set back on the match. The Red Knight moved with precise, effortless strength. Not showy, just sure. When his opponent hit the ground, the crowd erupted.

You realized you were smiling.

Beside you, your father leaned forward, impressed. “A nameless knight winning his first match? Interesting.”

You nodded faintly, eyes still fixed on the crimson figure. He bowed to the royal box— to you— before turning to leave the field. Something about the gesture sent heat to your cheeks.

A few minutes later Kirishima returned, hair somehow messier than before. He cleared his throat softly. “Seems like that last one caught your eye, huh?”

You turned to glance back at him, flustered. “He’s… skilled. That’s all.”

His grin was small, careful. “Yeah. Seems like a good guy.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you teased before you could stop yourself.

He chuckled. “Nah. Just glad you’re enjoying yourself, princess.”

You laughed under your breath, returning your gaze to the field as the next match began.

Still, you couldn’t help thinking about that nameless knight— about your unexplained interest in him.

And somewhere behind you, Kirishima tried to steady his heartbeat, pretending not to notice the faint smile on your lips.

.☘︎ ݁˖