Rated: K+

Pairing: Queen Ismaire x Carlyle

All That I Do, I Do for You

By AngelSyn

At the age of twenty-six, Carlyle was one of the best of Jehanna's swordmasters, and with this achievement he would, naturally, gain the attention of Queen Ismaire. After all, she was the leader of the famous mercenary guild that the desert nation was famed for, and she was reputed to be a merciless swordmaster as well.

"Sir Carlyle" a maid spoke respectfully to the man, "Her Majesty wishes to speak with you."

Carlyle nodded and followed the maid towards the eastern courtyard of the palace, where his sense of smell was overwhelmed by the scent of exotic flowers, with leaves that grew dark and green and petals of vibrant hues. But his eyes were soon captivated by the woman who stood amidst these flowers, next to the fountain, with such fair beauty, that Carlyle was willing to believe he had intruded upon a divine being.

"Sir Carlyle, Your Majesty" the maid announced softly, and the beautiful woman turned to fully face him. Carlyle could barely even breathe.

"You wished to see me, Your Majesty?" Carlyle had just managed to remember himself and bowed deeply to his Queen.

"Sir Carlyle, I have heard much of you" she was gentle in tone but strong and cool in voice and her eyes was alert, belying the sweet image her beauty projected. Yet she seemed so sad, like she wasn't fully there.

"You have received much praise from your superiors and I have watched your progress, and I am extremely proud to have such a loyal swordmaster in my service. My husband also praised your loyalty and skill." Queen Ismaire's gaze, for just a second, did not look at Carlyle but straight through him into some distant place in her mind's eye.

Carlyle knew that his Queen's sadness came from her grief over the loss of her beloved husband. Yet she could not cry, for she was Jehanna's Queen and leader of her mercenary guild; Queen Ismaire could not let herself fall into tears, not once.

That was how you survived in the unforgiving land of white dunes.

Carlyle was entranced by his Queen and could only nod and reply: "I am honoured, Your Majesty."

The rest of the conversation was a mere blur of words, but Carlyle remembered her voice: a siren's voice that enchanted him; her beauty that made him breathless; and her gaze that made his heart beat too fast for his comfort.

He should not think of such thoughts as a royal knight to Queen Ismaire, should not have thought his Queen in any other way other than his liege, yet his mind would not let him, and his heart would not beat steadily in her presence, but would always beat faster, as if it was trying to get nearer to her.

In an attempt to compromise, Carlyle tried to content himself as becoming the Queen's right hand, to stand by her even if he could not hold her, to see a smile on her lips even if he could not kiss her.

"Carlyle" Queen Ismaire called to him and he immediately came to her, "Joshua is in need of a teacher, would you mind…"

"It would be my honour, my Queen." It had been a few years since his promotion to being his Queen's most trusted and decorated knight. Carlyle's control on his heart was waning.

At first, his resolve was strong, but as the years wore on and his Queen relied more and more on him than any other, his carefully lacquered restraint was beginning to crack, his emotions seeming to rampage and grow stronger in him the closer the Queen kept him by her side.

But for now, as he carried on and his Queen trusting him like no other, his restraint would hold.

Carlyle suddenly looked at his Queen, and the words rolled off his tongue, completely unbidden: "I would be honoured to, my Queen, for all that I do, I do for you."

At the time, Queen Ismaire smiled at his words, but now as she lay dying on the stone floor, she berated herself for not seeing the meaning underneath. There had been so many incidences, so many accidental slips, Queen Ismaire wondered if she really had been blind to everything that mattered.

As for Carlyle, as he stumbled back from the last sword blow and fell onto the throne as his legs gave way, his thoughts swam in his mind of his Queen.

"Carlyle" spoke his opponent in a very familiar voice, "Why?"

"It's too late" was all Carlyle could muster in reply, and as his vision began to go out of focus, his mind growing hazy from the loss of blood, he saw his Queen in his opponent.

The same red hair, the same eyes and the same fair skin. Carlyle exhaled: "M-my Queen…"

All that I do, I do for you.