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spookykestrel · 2 years

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special shout-out to beloved @alls-well-thxt-ends for responding to my post that’s all i needed to post this lmao

anyway here’s the first little bit of the story i know it cuts off in the middle of a scene like i said, I got sidetracked and never finished (as I am prone to doing). It is kinda long so no one is under any obligation to read the whole thing (i know i probably wouldn't) I’m mostly just posting for myself. I would appreciate any and all feedback though. Like anything.

PART I (lol funny right cause there’s no part 2 as of ever)

“What did you do to my eyes?”

The line of soldiers stood, backs straight gaze dead ahead. They all knew the drill. No breath out of rhythm, no shoulders slumped, no toes out of line, no imperfections among any of them. They seemed practically inhuman, as if they were carefully crafted statues, not the most powerful men and women in the kingdom. Yet they stood unmoving as the crown prince of Eugonia passed in front of them, his eyes rolling over every soldier barely taking in their form before moving to the figure.

He happened to catch the eye of the youngest soldier, Miro. He was barely old enough to join the force, let alone meet the qualifications for the royal guard. Prince Beaumont raised his eyebrows and the corner of his lip twitched before he moved on to stand behind the captain of the guard. Miro refused to acknowledge the prince or his brief moment of recognition. Instead, he clenched his fist at his side, his eyes locked on the patch of trees behind them, trying not to squint in the light of the setting sun. When he was first starting out as a soldier, he often found himself distracted by the mindless actions of the royal family. Miro quickly learned, through experience and discipline, how to remain alert while being as inconspicuous as possible.

“Your attention!” the captain snapped. Miro didn’t move but focused in on her sharp voice. Quinton had been well chosen for her position, her presence commanded the room and no one dared cross her. Soldiers often passed stories of her bringing down entire troops with a simple stare. Naturally, they were just rumors but when Miro was in the room with her, he’d be willing to believe the most absurd stories, her affect was that powerful.

“After careful evaluation of your abilities,” Quinton began. Miro remained with his gaze directed at the bushes a few feet away.

“His highness and I have finally come to a decision regarding the newest recruit to his bodyguard.” Within the foliage something was moving around, a rabbit perhaps. Stay focused, Miro.

“I’m not going to patronize you by claiming it was a difficult decision or you all deserved the position,” out of the bushes a deer’s antler peaked out — no not an antler — a bow.

“So without further ado or nonsense, the new lieutenant will be-”

Miro broke from position and dove for the prince, “GET DOWN!” He grabbed the prince’s shoulders and knocked him to the ground, an arrow grazing his left arm as they fell. Miro shielded the prince’s body with his own as the commotion several yards away grew louder. The heavy, panicked breathing of Prince Beau rattled in his ear. Several other soldiers ran towards the prince, swords out in defense, while the remaining officers ran towards the bushes shouting in anger. At the clashing of swords in the background, Miro quickly raised his head, his hand darting to his sheath, but not leaving the prince unprotected. A couple soldiers in the distance had pinned a disheveled young woman to the ground, a wooden bow lying a few feet away from them, arrows scattered recklessly in the grass. Although she was small, she struggled against them, breaking free from the one holding her, but her escape was prevented by Quinton, who grabbed her arm firmly in the fist of a gloved hand and shoved her back down. Miro sat back on his feet, eyes scanning the surrounding area, then quickly stood up, offering a hand to the rattled prince. Two guards quickly flanked their sides, swords at the ready, but it appeared there had only been one attacker. Quinton was already dragging the figure on the ground up and locking her in the restraints another soldier was offering. Miro, Beau, and the other soldiers watched Quinton interrogating the assassin with a direct and impassive tone before sending her away. Miro didn’t have to ask to know she’d be executed later that day; such an attempt at the crown prince’s life could not be excused.

Miro glanced at the prince, assessing the severity of the events. After a couple deep breaths, Beau was calming down, although his eyes were still alight with fear. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek and his clothes were a mess of grass and mud. Beau met his eyes laughing a little. Laughing? Miro looked away and muttered a quick apology under his breath.

Quinton had sent a few soldiers out to scan the perimeter of the castle, ensuring there were no more security breaches; somebody would be getting fired for this slip up. She marched back over to the group, the remaining officers following.

“After that unfortunately timed assassination attempt,” Quinton said, blunt as ever, “I’m sure the need for a replacement lieutenant has become evident. So I’d like to offer my congratulations to-”

“Him.” Prince Beaumont declared, pointing towards...Miro? “Your name’s Miro, right?” Miro glanced at Quinton who was already squinting back at him. Her expression was hard to read, but after spending years around her, Miro knew the twisted feeling in his stomach was right: this was not the choice they had agreed on. The prince grinned a little, not realizing the effect of what he’d just said. Quinton knew better than to cross the prince’s decision, but it was surely setting Miro up for many trials and resistance from the captain of the guard

Quinton cleared her throat, “Yes, Miro is his given name. Are you certain that is your final decision, Your Highness?”

The prince nodded emphatically and broke out into a full smile, “Yes. He just saved my life! What better person to have protecting me than someone who already knows how.”

“Of course. Your Highness.” Quintin said tightly, turning her stony gaze away from Miro, addressing him without making eye contact. “You’re to start in the position tomorrow. As much as I would prefer to let you ease into the role, with the sudden leave of Lieutenant Samuels this morning and today’s events, that simply is not going to happen. I will allow you tonight to review and familiarize yourself with the prince’s schedule, and I will stop by your quarters early tomorrow morning with your instructions for the day. Until then. DISMISSED!” She barked the last order to the entire group of soldiers standing uneasily in the yard. They all dispersed quickly enough, to attend to perimeter control no doubt, and Quinton soon followed, refusing to acknowledge either the prince or his new lieutenant.

Left awkwardly in the yard with Prince Beaumont and the rest of his royal bodyguard, Miro forced a smile and bowed to the prince. “Thank you, Your Highness, for this immense honor.”

To Miro’s surprise, the prince fell into an even deeper bow, his hand grazing the grass and his golden hair flopping over his face, “You are most certainly welcome, good sir.” He then started to laugh, the sound filling the clearing, startling the birds that had just begun to perch again. “You’ll come to realize there's no need for such formalities around me. That’s more my mother-and Quinton’s- thing.” Miro didn’t move. “Come now, you can relax.”

After Miro still didn’t shift from his fixed position, the prince rolled his eyes, nudging him with his elbow. Miro winced; the arrow meant for the prince had struck him there. It didn’t draw blood, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell. Prince Beaumont immediately drew back, his eyes wide. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Miro said, tersely, “Just sore.”

The prince watched him for a moment, reluctantly accepting his statement. “If you say so. Let’s head back to my chambers then. It’s been a rather...exhausting day, and I would like some rest before I’m expected to show up for whatever war consultation or lecture my mother has planned for me in the morning...” The rest of the guards nodded and the group of them marched up the steps of the palace, the prince at their center. A disconcerted Miro soon followed, walking beside one of the soldiers in the back.

“Is he always like this?” Miro asked under his breath, watching the prince joking with guards next to him. His hands were flying in front of him, painting some engaging tale to the amusement of the listeners. Miro smiled against his will, then noticed the guard next to him glaring.

“The lieutenant stands to the prince’s right,” The soldier grunted.

“Oh...” Miro debated a moment over moving up, ultimately deciding it was the best decision. He purposefully picked up his pace until he fell into stride with the still laughing prince.

Just keep your head down and don’t make eye contact. They’ll get used to you soon enough.

Aside from the prince, still relaying a fanciful tale to no one in particular, the group was quiet as they continued towards the royal chambers.

“Well, this is me!” Prince Beaumont said, leaning on his door frame in a flirtatious manner. A baffled Miro watched as soldiers smiled and laughed and patted Beaumont on the shoulder and returned downstairs leaving only himself and the prince in the empty hallway.

Prince Beaumont puffed out his lower lip as he let down the façade and then turned into his room, “You can wait there until the night guards arrive. I’m sure you’re just as anxious to get out of here as the rest of your comrades.”

Miro spoke quietly, but with resolution, “If you don’t mind, Your Highness, I’d like to do a brief search of your room before you head in there.” At the prince’s skeptical look, Miro quickly continued, “After what happened earlier, I’m sure you cannot blame me for being too cautious.”

Prince Beaumont turned to the side, “As you wish, lieutenant.” Miro nodded and stepped into his chambers.

The first thing Miro noticed was how empty it was. The prince was one for luxury, everyone in the palace knew it. He always demanded the finest clothes and the richest food. So walking into this room with such a basic assortment of furniture was slightly shocking. Of course he had a luscious bed, large enough to easily fit 10 people on it. There was a small sitting area in the adjoining room complete with two armchairs, a tea table, and floor to ceiling shelving covering the walls in books. The only touch of personalization in the room was a wooden desk, shoved in the corner. Papers and quills were scattered carelessly across its surface and as Miro drew closer he realized it was all hand-written sheet music. Resting against the desk was a deep red guitar and two more were hidden underneath.

He quickly finished up his examination and bowed toward the prince, “Thank you for humoring me. You may proceed with your evening, Your Highness.”

Prince Beaumont squinted at him for a moment, before shaking his head and shutting the door.

Miro released his shoulders and took a deep breath, finally alone. Checking to make sure no one was coming, he slumped against the wall and closed his eyes. Why had the prince picked him and how was he going to keep this up. The last Lieutenant was barely 40 when he left his position, and wasn’t even old enough to officially retire. At 19, Miro had progressed through nearly every ranking in the army and there wasn’t much else for him to achieve. Unless he took Quinton’s place, but everyone knew she’d never retire. She’d either live forever or die trying.

He allowed himself this moment to collect himself and reflect. Lieutenant Miro Pagano. He did like the sound of it. If only he could get the title without working in such proximity to the prince. Everything he thought about Prince Beaumont was turning out to be true and he didn’t know how long he could be his bodyguard without some sort of slip up. Like punching him in that cheesy smile of his. Miro couldn’t get that smile out of his head. It was too perfect. Teeth too straight, too white, too genuine. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners and formed soft creases everytime he laughed. The way those eyes stared right into your soul, it was so easy to get lost in them, so so easy-

Miro was jolted to attention at the rocketing sound of footsteps on cobblestone. He blinked several times. “Who’s there?”

“Calm down, Pagano. It’s just us.” Despite recognizing the voice of Gena Marcx, Miro didn’t relax. Her presence always put him on edge, her sharp voice and the overpowering, sickly sweet smell of her Begonia perfume.

“General Marcx. Always a pleasure. What could I possibly have done to deserve you here?”

Gena and her companion stopped directly outside the prince’s door. She stood several inches over Miro; not only was he the youngest on the force, but the shortest as well. She leaned down until her face was level with his. There was the faintest trace of booze on her breath and Miro couldn’t help himself from pulling back. “We’re here to relieve the new Lieutenant of his post of course.” Night guard, of course. “I’m sure since you’re so in love with the crown you wish you could stay here forever. I heard about what you did this evening. Awful high up your own ass aren’t you. But some of us have jobs to do that we’re actually qualified for so why don’t you scurry down to the kitchen with the other scum of the castle.”

Miro bristled. If she knew her place- But he buried his anger and pushed past her. “Whatever. Have a good night, General.”

Without waiting for her response, he marched off in the direction she’d come from and down the stairs. His boots echoed loudly in the near deserted castle. He passed dozens of masked guards, not bothering to check if he recognized them. In his three years as part of the royal defense, he’d made a few enemies and even fewer friends.

As annoyed as he was, Gena had been right about his plans. The stairs to the kitchens weren’t very far from the prince’s quarters, allowing the staff easy access after his frequent requests for meals in his private dining room. He quickly descended the set of wooden stairs, the atmosphere growing warmer and busier so close to the kitchen. Of course with the night setting in, there wasn’t much happening below the castle. Only one of the kitchens was awake, with staff leisurely attending to tomorrow’s meal preparations.

Miro scanned the room until he found his sister standing off to the side, a young girl with hair as dark as the coal staining her face. She was kneading bread and humming to herself, her faded blue dress and apron softly swaying around her legs. He plucked an apple off the center counter, smiling courteously at a few of the cooks as he sauntered over to her.

She turned at the sound of his footsteps and beamed. “Miro!” The girl cried, throwing her arms around him, dusting his shoulders with flour. He managed to catch her hug, and the apple she knocked out of his hand, and smiled.

“Sera! How was your day?”

She stepped back to examine him with squinted eyes before returning to her work. Miro leaned against the counter, tossing his apple back and forth, back and forth.

“Never mind that, Mir, how was yours? I heard about your heroic rescue.”

Miro sank his teeth into the soft apple, his eyes watering at the sour flavor that flooded his mouth. He chewed for a minute, pondering, then set the apple an arms length away. “It was fine.” Sera just raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know what you want me to say! You’ve overheard all the gossip I’m sure. I saved the prince, I'm the new lieutenant, Quinton hates me even more than before!”

“Miro, come on. I want to hear what you think!”

Miro blew out a breath. “I don’t know what I think, Sera, honest. A lot’s happened today, none of it was I prepared for.”

Sera continued pressing the dough under her hands until all the little flecks were rolled into a nice ball that she gently placed onto a tray. She pulled out the bin of flour and started on a new loaf. “Start with the easy stuff. How do you feel about the promotion? It comes with a bit more money, right?”

“I suppose. Not that there’s anything to spend it on if I’m stuck around the pretentious Prince Beaumont forever,” Miro huffed.

Sera laughed a little, “Of course he’s pretentious, he’s the prince, silly. It comes with the job. And working with him won’t be all that bad; the other guards seem to like him?”

“Yeah, they’re all great pals.” Miro said, rolling his eyes. Sera glanced at him, her dark eyes searching his face.

“I can’t read your mood. Are you really alright about this?” she said.

Miro sighed again. “Yes, I’m alright. It’s fine. This is all just another change, I’ll get used to it. Come on, let's go home, isn’t your shift over yet?”

Sera studied him for a moment more before shaking her head and finishing her last roll. “Should’ve been. Molly was feeling ill earlier, so I offered to cover for her tonight. I won’t be done until dawn; you’ll have to go without me.”

“Sera! You promised you wouldn’t take so many back to back shifts!” Miro groaned.

“I’m sorry, Mir! But Molly needs the rest more than me, she shouldn’t be doing so many long shifts with the baby and everything!”

Miro frowned. “Should’ve thought of that before she got pregnant.”

“Go home. You need to get good sleep before starting your big job tomorrow!” Sera shoved him.

A pastry chef barked at them from across the kitchen, “Serafina! Back to work! Don’t want to see this work ethic reflected in tomorrow’s breakfast.”

Sera tensed and went back to her work. “Go! And stop acting so weird! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Rolling his eyes, Miro hugged his sister again, much briefer this time, and walked out of the kitchens.

Night had settled comfortably over the castle, the only movement from the occasional shifting of soldiers. Oil lamps cast a dim glow in the halls illuminating the ground in front of Miro, but the furniture and detailed walls were left in shadows. The walk to the staff housing, where he lived with Sera, was a long one, so he set out quickly, wanting to get as much rest as he could. He wondered for a moment if he’d receive a room in the castle like the rest of the prince’s guard, but lost interest in the thought. As convenient as it would be, he much preferred the separate living quarters and the time he got to spend with his sister.

Despite the absence of other guards and officials, Miro maintained a soldier’s stride, arms stiffly at his sides, pace steadier than a metronome. It was in part, because he couldn’t risk a screw up. He knew he wasn’t respected by anyone in the royal army, only allowed in by special circumstance. He soared through the ranks while still being younger than most people under him, so it was no wonder the rest of his comrades despised him.

But he mostly kept the stance because being in a soldier’s mindset kept him distracted from his other thoughts. Anytime he found himself thinking about the prince or Quinton, he focused on making his back even straighter or his footsteps faster. One. Two. One. Two. One Two.

He kept track of his steps until he reached the front hall. Two guards stood similar to him in front of the great double doors. He couldn’t see their faces beneath their helmets, but they seemed to recognize him, one of them grunting and moving aside so the other could crack open the side door the staff exited through. Most of Miro’s interactions were like this, silent and routine.

Out in the night air, he was finally able to clear his head. The moon rested lightly above him, and the chilly air filled his lungs with the strength he needed. As he walked, he noted the crunching of the gravel beneath his feet and the chirping of the crickets in the grass. He savored moments like these. When he was finally alone, putting the castle behind him. As much as he loved the challenge of his work, it was easy to let the pressure get to him.

Just a few more steps. Maybe he’d just walk through those gates and never come back. Maybe he’d just keep walking and never stop. No more captains or rules or restrictions. Just the road in front of him.

When he reached out to open the gate, he caught something moving out in the fields. It’s just a deer. He tried to tell himself. But after the assassin from earlier, he couldn’t ignore his royal responsibility and glanced to check, just in case. A dark figure had emerged from the tree line and was heading directly towards…the prince’s bedroom.

Shit. Miro grabbed his sword, still strapped to his side, and took off down the field with resignation.

“Maybe one day I’ll let them get killed. Or mortally wounded. That’ll show them,” he muttered under his breath, but even as he said it, he knew he didn’t mean it. His loyalty to the crown and army outweighed any ulterior motives he might have. That didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

As he neared the attacker, he noticed something off. The figure didn’t seem to be bearing any weapons. And they walked with no sense of urgency or fear. In fact, they seemed almost at ease, walking around on the palace grounds in the near darkness. Curious, Miro stopped running and instead did his best to follow the person from a distance.

Then he noticed the singing.

It wasn’t anything extraordinary. But the soft lyrical voice stood out in the silent night in an intimate way, and made Miro feel as if he were intruding on a personal moment. His most shocking realization was that he knew the voice quite well; it stirred up memories from years ago, when he first came to the castle. Instead of an intruder, Miro had snuck up on the prince himself.

Prince Beaumont had yet to realize he wasn’t alone in the field. He walked completely barefoot in the grass, his arms swaying at his sides, his voice swirling above him in thin vapor. Miro had seen the prince in many different moods before, but never walking with such lightness, never so free. He trailed after the prince for a moment, finally catching the words he was singing. It was an old folk song, usually accompanied by the strumming of a fiddle and the tapping of feet. But the prince completely transformed the words. Miro finally realized the true nature of the lyrics as the prince whispered them into the night.

“Oh, the devil’s inside

You opened the door,

You gave him a ride,

To young to know, too old to admit”

Miro stood transfixed for a moment, but realized the weight of his actions and quickly interrupted. “I’m sure you couldn’t see how this midnight adventure would end, your highness.” Miro spoke, his voice cool, a wry smile on his face.

Prince Beaumont flinched, but turned around with a playful glint in his eyes. He knew there was little Miro could do to get him in trouble and he’d get off with nothing more than a reprimand. It infuriated Miro.

“Good evening, Lieutenant Pagano. How are you doing this fine autumn night?” The prince joked.

“Would you care to grace me with the reasoning behind this...late night excursion?” Miro asked, ignoring the prince’s words.

“Certainly not, but I appreciate you asking politely.” The prince resumed his walk towards the palace, his pace leisurely and unburdened. Miro watched him go for a moment, distracted by the silhouette of his bouncing curls, the way the moonlight delicately wrapped itself under the curve of his nose. He hurried to catch up.

“Your highness, forgive me, but my position requires that I ensure your safety at all times and without knowing your whereabouts and actions I simply cannot fulfill that duty.”

“Ah, if you insist. I was merely going for a walk.” He winced, stepping on a rock or something sharp. Miro grabbed his arm, helping the prince steady himself. Their eyes met for a moment and Prince Beaumont forced a pained smile.

“You were going for a walk,” Miro said, tightly, “In the dark. With no shoes?”

Prince Beaumont shook out his foot and started walking again, this time keeping pace with Miro. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“And how were you planning on getting back in?” By then, the two had reached the prince’s window.

“Boost me up?” The prince raised his eyebrows in a pathetic, pleading manner. Miro knew the prince had never been denied anything a day in his life and a part of him wanted to say no, just to watch his reaction. Once again he reminded himself of his position and the dignity he had to maintain. Begrudgingly, he took a knee and held out his hands for the prince to step onto.

“Appreciated,” Prince Beaumont said. Miro got the sense he actually meant it. “I would’ve hated to climb up there like a fool with you watching.”

The window to the prince’s room wasn’t too far off the ground, but there didn’t appear to be any easy way to scale the wall. “You really would have climbed up here?” Miro asked, barely believing him.

“I’ve done it before!” The prince grunted, struggling to pull himself over the balcony. He finally rolled over the ledge and planted his feet on the soundly on the other side. He beamed down at Miro, his hair and clothes a mess but completely unfazed. “Thank you for your help tonight, Lieutenant! Ah, but if you don’t mind, I think I’ll be heading off to bed. I’m rather exhausted; it’s been a long day after all, as I’m sure you would agree.”

Miro just shook his head. He didn’t know if he should threaten the prince and warn him about leaving his room or yell at him for his arrogance and disregard for the rules and his safety. Maybe he’d just stand there forever studying the way the moonlight enveloped the prince in a magical glow. In the end, he just turned his back and walked away, not saying anything.

“Wait, Miro!” The prince called in a hushed voice. Miro stopped but didn’t turn to look at him. “I understand that it’s your job and everything, but please, don’t tell anyone about this...ok?” Something about his tone was off. There was a sense of desperation in his words. The normally self-assured prince reluctantly put his faith in someone else, knowing Miro had full control of the outcome.

Miro just sighed and turned away for good, leaving the prince alone on the balcony. He wouldn’t tell anyone; he knew the consequences would be severe for everyone involved, not just himself and Prince Beaumont. But it couldn’t hurt to let the prince dangle like that, after every reckless choice he’d made that night. He could picture the prince gaping at him and the thought of it made him smile.

He strode off through the grass at a faster pace than normal, desperate to leave the palace and the prince behind.

I can’t believe he has the audacity to walk around like that! After nearly being murdered earlier today, one would think he has more sense!

He made it home without any more distractions, thanking whatever being ruled the universe. The door was left unlocked, Sera must’ve forgotten when she left in the morning. He reminded himself to scold her about when he saw her next, but didn’t care all that much. Without bothering to turn on a light, he stumbled through the tiny house, passing the kitchen and dining area to get to his bedroom. He quickly changed out of his uniform, tossing it in the corner of the room, and slumped into bed.

He tried to block out the images of the prince that flooded his consciousness, but eventually gave up trying. As he drifted off to sleep, the last thing he remembered was the prince’s goofy grin and the soft halo of moonlight highlighting the curls of his dark hair.

* * * * *

The next morning began much like any other. Miro woke before the sun and shuffled around in the dark, searching for the uniform he’d discarded on the floor. He pulled it on, realized his shirt was backward, and tugged it around the right way. As he walked to the front of the house, he combed his hair with his fingers and swished a mouthful of water around, spitting it out in the window. In the main room, he checked the clock. 45 minutes. Enough time to get to the palace, but not enough to eat first.

He opened a couple cabinets in the kitchen before leaving and ended up just taking a pear from the few that sat on the table. Chewing on the soft fruit, he tied his sword around his waist and opened the door.

Sera gasped, nearly dropping her key.

“Morning,” he smiled, half-heartedly.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” Serafina said in a similar tone, stepping aside so he could exit and she could walk in.

“You forgot to lock up yesterday.”

“Oh. Sorry. Must’ve slipped my mind.” She tucked a wisp of hair over her ear. Her bun hung loosely halfway down her head, half of the hair falling out and framing her face.

“Don’t worry about it. Get good sleep.”

Sera grimaced. “Thanks. Good luck on your first day!”

Miro turned to say something back, but she’d already shut the door. Hopefully heading to bed after a 24 hour shift in the palace kitchens.

Most of their interactions were like this now. A passing word as they went to work at odd hours, serving the royal family. It was good work and they couldn’t complain, especially with free food and housing at a lower price. But it was exhausting. Sera was his closest confidant, his only friend, really. While she’d bonded with the other kitchen staff, always catching Miro up on the latest gossip, he’d never hit it off with the other soldiers. He was proud of himself and his sister, but he missed the late nights up talking, their conversations lit by the kitchen fire. A lot had changed, and most of it out of their control, but he still wished they were able to make time for moments like that again.

He walked down the gravel streets, the crunching of his steps the only sound in the early morning. A couple shops had lights on in their windows and smoke was lazily spilling from the chimney of a nearby bakery. Despite being alone, he felt the comfort of life in the village. Most of his time was spent in the palace, but he cherished his morning walk, taking in the everyday activity of the civilians. Growing up in a town just a bit larger than this, he had many memories chasing Sera down the street. Dodging shopkeepers and wagons, he’d felt more alive in those little, everyday moments, than in the past several years. He doubted he’d felt like that at all since they’d taken solace at the palace.

As the sun was breaking over the tops of the smallest buildings and trees, Miro arrived at the palace gates. He greeted the morning guards, who knew him by name and let him in without a second thought. He straightened his back a bit more as he walked through the gates.

“Breathe,” he whispered to himself, filling his lungs with the dewey morning air. He could do this. He was a fantastic soldier. In fact, the role was practically too easy for him, he needed a challenge. If only that challenge wasn’t staying by the side of the crown prince of Luminoss, the person Miro hated most in the royal family and the person he had been hiding his growing feelings for over the past three years.

#who needs another shitty gay love story #i guess me i do #nothing revolutionary but i had the idea in my head and thought #ok this is good #but what if it was gay #also my friend wrote a little story ages ago #and i loved it #so i took her very barebones character types #and ran with it #anyway #writing #my work #kestrel calls #text post #long post #VERY long post #there's a lot of loose ends #and things that don't quite line up #but that's ok #it was an indulgent piece #it was also the first thing i had written in like two years #and remains to hold that title #aside from my bee duo fanfic #that also remains unfinished #*sweats*#i shouldn't be allowed on tumblr past 10 i start rambling in the tags #i might delete this later #i like to maintain anonymity when it comes to my writing #but idk i was bored and haven't ever shared something I wrote

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