You had royally fucked up, in ways you were certain no one had before.

How it had worked, you had no idea. But it had. And it ended with you knelt before the King, head bowed, and the edge of a sword on your shoulders as he elected you ‘an official Knight’ for the royal family.

That was all well and good from an outside, objective perspective. But the reality of it was so much worse. Because you had the misfortune of being born a woman with a man’s dream.

Even as a young girl, you’d dreamed of fighting alongside the rest of them in battle.

You never understood why you couldn’t, just because you weren’t a boy. You spent your days training alongside your brothers, despite them constantly reminding you how you would’ve been better suited to more… ‘house-hold’ duties.

You could do everything they could do, and more. The laws against women in battle and knighthood were unfair, and unjust. And the older you got, the more passionate you became.

Until eventually, you’d taken matters into your own hands.

Maybe if they never knew you were a woman, you could fool all of them, and show the assholes that you were just as capable as a man.

And it worked. You trained with the rest of them under a fake male name, hiding your features under layers of dirt and a helmet. Your height made them underestimate you.

You never expected to make it as far as you did.

Nor did you expect to get the attention of the Prince himself. No one understood his fascination with you.

A short time, after being appointed a knight, a war between Oaklore and its neighbouring kingdom broke out, and everyone prepared for battle. Besides you. Because just like everything else, your dreams were ripped from your grasp when the Prince personally requested you as his guard.

So now, instead of a battlefield, you stood in a lavishly decorated bedroom, with gold everything sprawling from floor to ceiling. It was decorated in the kingdom’s colours of forest green, and—of course—gold. You were out of your element, and unprepared.

Simon strode out of his bathing chambers, so casual, despite the approaching war.

His eyes landed on you. He paused, and then said, “Sir Barrett, why don’t you relax for a moment. You’ve been standing there for hours. Have a drink with me.”

You stilled, but he caught your protest before you could even make it.

“As the Prince, you do as I say,” he stated. “And I say, drink with me. You are able to take the helmet off, correct? Given you haven’t permanently sewn it on your head,” he quipped, narrowing his eyes at you. “You know you’re the only one of my knights whose face I haven’t seen? It’s rather impressive really.”

He turned, stepping over to the cart filled with liquor he kept on hand at all times. He slowly poured some of the amber liquid into a glass, then turned back to you, and extended it in your direction.



“Drink.”