The King gripped his staff tightly, his knuckles whitening with the force of his grip as he stood. Captain Joseph Bishop stood at attention, his polished armor glinting in the morning sunshine which filtered through the windows of the throne room. In front of him, five of his men knelt in submission to the King, their hands bound behind their backs. They stared dejectedly down at the stone floor in front of them, refusing to meet the eyes of their King.
The royal families' personal guards were made to stand watch outside the doors whilst the Princess, the Duchess, and the King received Sir Bishop. Catherine's long-sleeved dress covered her bruises and bandaged cuts from the night before, although she had trouble hiding her sore legs as she limped around the castle.
"Captain Bishop," began the King, "what is the nature of your visit? Who are these prisoners?"
Captain Bishop bowed to his King before answering. "Your Grace, I assume that you have been made aware of the rebel attack upon the village last night. The Vigilante led a small group of my men- most of whom were killed- against the invaders and were able to exterminate every last one of them. None of those men had my permission to do so and instead defected to serve under a menace to the crown. These men I have before you are the only remaining ones."
The King was not impressed. "And what of the Vigilante? Why do I not have his head on a platter as well?"
"Sir, the Vigilante is not a man. She remains to be elusive."
The King raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. "So does that mean that you let some cunt lead your men to their deaths? You're even more incompetent than I thought."
Joe inclined his head. "My apologies, Your Majesty. What is your wish for the fates of these men?"
"Off with their heads, of course," the King said simply and sat back down on his throne.
"Your Grace," the Princess interrupted, causing the soldiers' heads to snap up in recognition of her voice, "these men annihilated the rebel force, though they were under the guidance of a rogue enemy of the crown. It was only due to Captain Bishop's incompetent refusal to defend against the rebel force himself were these men forced to disobey their orders. It was only because of their defiance that the rebels have had yet to storm our castle. I believe that Captain Bishop is to blame here, not these men."
Captain Bishop's expression slackened in disbelief, also recognizing the Princess' to also be the vigilante's. "But, Your Majesty, she is the vigilante!"
It was Catherine's turn to rise to address the Army Captain. "Such insolence from a soldier is unheard of. You should pay for failing to defend both the village and His Majesty, the King from outside attack, and instead you choose to accuse me of being the very enemy that you despise. These men put their loyalty to their King and country before their unfounded faith in your leadership, and as a result this castle continues to operate under the House Chandler." Catherine finished and sat back in her seat.
Aghast, Captain Bishop looked to the King to reprimand his daughter, but to everyone's surprise, the King nodded thoughtfully. "You see, Captain Bishop? You are in the presence of true loyalty. When my daughter rules alongside her husband" -only the soldiers were watching when Catherine rolled her eyes- "she will still remain loyal to my memory. Guards!" the King called to his personal guardsmen waiting outside of the doors. They trotted in at his command. "You will show Captain Bishop out."
Joe was livid as the guards took his arms to drag him out of the throne room. "Your daughter is the traitor! She's the Vigilante!" His yells became indiscernible as he was dragged down the hall to gods-know-where.
"Princess," the King said, before brandishing a dagger towards her. "Untie these young knights, will you? I have more pressing matters to attend to." Catherine nodded respectfully as her father swept from the room, leaving only Heather and the knights she had fought side-by-side with the night before.
"You guys all right, then?" she asked before cutting the bonds around their wrists. Heather surprised everyone by coming over and helping the knights stand.
"Thank you, m'lady," said one of the knights to Duchess Heather, who blushed and smiled awkwardly before helping another knight up from his knees.
"We're fine, Princess, thanks to you," one of the knights replied to her inquiry, rubbing his wrists where the ropes had chafed him.
"Yes, well, let's just say that I harbor no good feelings towards the Captain after he left his men to die. I did kill his brother, but had he not withheld his men, I have a feeling that we would not have lost as many as we did."
"Do you know what is going to happen to him?"
She shook her head. "He probably won't be giving orders any time soon. Who is his second in command?"
"Lieutenant Gabriel Lowan. He hates the King with a burning passion."
"Let him know that he has an ally inside of the castle, will you?" The knight nodded gratefully to her. The five of them, instead of bowing to her like they would to any other royalty, saluted her just as they had the night before.
"We are forever in your debt, m'lady," the lead one said, and motioned for his companions to file out of the throne room behind him.
Heather hugged her sister after they knew they were alone. "I'm glad you're okay," she said as she pulled away, noting Catherine's wince. "I understand 'okay' is subjective. I mean I'm glad that you're alive."
Catherine laughed. "I am too. I probably wouldn't have lived past twenty minutes if Vincent hadn't shown up when he did."
"Is Vincent okay?"
The princess shrugged. "He was fine when he got back. We haven't really talked very much today, since…" she trailed off.
"Since what?" Heather asked before her eyes widened in realization. "Oh. You fucked him, didn't you?"
"What? No, no, no, and no. I just…I kissed him and then apologized for it. He said we could forget about the whole thing, which I am trying to do."
Heather shook her head. "I remember when you ran squealing to Tess after you first had sex with one of your guardsmen. The only reason I heard about it was because Magnus was muttering under his breath. I don't see why a kiss between you and Vincent is such a big deal."
Catherine pressed her lips together. "I happen to like him a lot better than most of my bedmates, and he seems to like me."
"Mhmm," Heather snorted, a bemused expression upon her face. "I'll see you later, all right? Try not to start another battle."
"Send in Vincent, will you?" Catherine called after her sister, who nodded and got Vincent from his post outside of the throne room doors.
"You wanted to see me, m'lady?" he asked, trying hard to conceal his grin.
"What are you so happy about?"
He shrugged. "Joe may or may not have insulted me quite a bit before demoting me to be your personal guardsman. I am merely reveling in this opportunity to be smug about his defeat." Catherine laughed before falling silent at his now serious expression.
"What?" she demanded.
"We need to talk, Catherine, about last night," Vincent said, staring directly into her eyes so she couldn't avoid his gaze.
"I thought we agreed not to talk about the kiss."
"The kiss wasn't the only thing that happened last night, Catherine. Honestly, it's the least of my worries. You left me to protect you against fifty men."
"Which you did. I wouldn't have been able to get the villagers out in time without you," she protested.
He shook his head. "A dozen broke through, remember? I failed to protect you."
"I am fine-," she began, but Vincent cut her off.
"You're not fine. I can smell the blood leaking through your bandages and you can't walk anywhere without limping. I didn't protect you."
Catherine rolled her eyes. "Vincent, you moron, I didn't leave you to fend off those fifty men by yourself because I needed protecting whilst I herded refugees, I left you there because it would have been tactically impossible for the both of us to help get people out and fend off the rebels. I didn't need a guardsman, I needed someone to watch my back, which you did. Those archers and the last remaining swordsmen couldn't have done what you did."
"I could've gotten you killed."
She shrugged. "I could say the same to you."
"What happens now?"
"The Army is on our side and Joe is out of the way," Catherine sighed, "I just need to figure out how I can kill both the King and my fiancé around the same time."
Vincent thought for a moment. "Isn't your birthday ball coming up?"
Catherine nodded, a little taken aback. "Yes, how did you know that?"
He rolled his eyes. "Everyone in the kingdom knows the birthdates of the royal family. Both your father and Lord Marks should be in attendance."
She hissed. "I can't wait to show the kingdom the might of the King with his head rolling down the mountain." Catherine smiled as she looked upon Vincent. "It will be a little birthday present to myself."
Vincent held up his hand. "On one condition," she raised an eyebrow, "I get to kill Lord Marks."
She laughed. "Settle the score with your manly pride still intact?"
"I want to show him how a real soldier fights," he clenched his jaw, "That entitled little shit doesn't know what war is." She rolled her eyes at his egotistical bravado, but let his comments slide.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
Later that night, as Vincent was giving her some privacy as she changed into the vigilante's clothes, he heard her give a yell. Without hesitation, he rushed over to her as she had a hand braced upon the base board of her bed.
Catherine's bandages had obviously gotten tangled in the sleeves of her dress, and had peeled away from her wounds rather painfully. The sleeveless underdress wasn't thick enough to hide the bruises and scrapes over her shoulders and back. Her arms had contorted into an awkward angle as she struggled to free herself from the cumbersome confines of her dress without harming herself further.
"Catherine, stop," Vincent spat, "Gods, you're going to hurt yourself worse doing this. What happened to that poultice you rubbed on that whipped woman's wounds?" he asked as he gently disentangled her arms from her dress, still cringing whenever she hissed through her teeth.
"Ah, fuck," she swore, "I think I have a vial of it underneath my bed in my weapons chest." He let her peel the rest of the dress off as he rummaged through her weapons chest (making sure he wouldn't cut himself on any of her poisoned daggers). When he got it out, she reached for it, but he pulled it away from her.
"You'll just hurt yourself trying to reach," he told her softly, "Now hold still." He gently applied a little of the poultice to each of her open wounds. To his amazement, the cuts sewed themselves back together underneath his fingertips. She groaned in relief as pain bled away from her body in waves. Instead of the criss-cross of thin cuts up and down her arms, she now had thin, pale scars to mark where her enemies had touched her.
His hand remained upon her shoulder after the last scrape had faded away. "I don't like seeing you in pain," Vincent remarked as his fingertips danced over her scarred shoulders.
"Unfortunately for you, brave sir knight, pain is an almost constant companion to me. Pain is a dutiful reminder to me that while I am probably one of the best fighters who ever lived, I am still human. Therefore I am still fallible," she turned to face him, but he still hadn't removed his hand from her shoulder. "You are afraid to take what you want, Vincent, because you are afraid to be reminded that you are still human. But I am not afraid." Catherine rose up and ghosted her lips over his. "I know what I want."
Just as he was about to move in closer, she pulled away. "I just realized that I can't go patrolling tonight. My tunic is shredded and all my weapons are bloody. Blades do rust after all."
Vincent seemed to find his ability to speak. "Catherine I-," he began to say, but she cut him off.
"Vincent, I'm not looking to just share meaningful glances with you for the rest of eternity. I have urges, after all. And if I cannot satiate my thirst with you… then I'll go looking for satisfaction elsewhere. I am not in the business of pining after people that don't want me in return; that's for Lord Marks to do."
He pressed his lips together. "Do you want help cleaning your knives?"
Catherine smiled humorlessly. "It's all business with you, isn't it?"
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
The next day, Magnus awoke them at dawn. "Princess! Princess, I know you're not keen on them, but we do have your birthday masquerade ball to plan."
Catherine sat up huffily in her bed, her hair falling out of her braid. "Can't I just kill the King today and get it over with? Honestly."
Magnus rolled his eyes. "We both know that you wouldn't do it. We've only got a week before the ball. Your sister and the event planner are driving each other mad, so I'm asking you to go downstairs to quell a little bit of the tension. I still have to get myself fitted for a linen tunic."
She yawned pointedly at him. "Are you planning on sneaking Kurt in?"
He snorted. "Even with masks on, people would still be able to tell that two men were dancing together."
"I've been wondering about that," Vincent said as he rose from his room, "when you two dance together, who is the man and who is the woman?"
Magnus glared at the curious knight. "If we wanted to dance with a woman, we wouldn't be dancing with another man, you heteronormative little shit. But I have a feeling you're not asking about dancing." He turned to Catherine, "For the love of the gods, go defend your sister from that hag of an event planner. I have no idea why it matters so much what the hell kind of flowers they buy, but apparently it does." He practically glided from the room.
As Catherine and Vincent descended the spiral staircase, Catherine was almost immediately assaulted by her younger sister.
"Catherine!" Heather cried. "Tell her that roses look better alone than in some hideous bouquet. Tell her," she pointed an accusatory finger at a rather frazzled middle-aged woman.
"Heather, I honestly don't give a shit about roses and bouquets right now. I need to know if my fiancé is on the guest list," the princess knew well enough that Heather and the event planner would eventually sort it out without her input anyways.
Heather sighed and shouted at the event planner, who had been writing things down in charcoal on a scroll. "Serei! You old witch, the princess needs to see the guest list!"
Serei strode over purposefully, obviously used to the snide barbs Heather threw her way. She bowed deeply to Catherine, who always made a point to be kind to her in the past. "My princess, how may I be of service to you today?"
Catherine nodded her head courteously at the servant. "Good morning Madame Serei, I was wondering if my fiancé Lord Marks is on the guest list for next week's ball?"
The servant smiled. "Why of course. No man in his right mind would miss out on an opportunity to see you in your ball gown."
"Will he be bringing his guards with him?"
"Yes, m'lady."
"Do you know how many?"
"Only around half a dozen, Miss Catherine."
"What exactly is the schedule going to be like for that evening?"
Serei unraveled a couple more inches of her parchment so she could read off to Catherine. "Well, you'll be receiving guests in a procession line for the first hour," she ignored the pained noise from Vincent, "After sundown, we'll have a feast in the dining hall with the lords and ladies, and the commoners will eat in the courtyard. Your father has a commencement toast after supper, and then it will be on to the dance which will be held in the throne room."
"And how many guests will be in attendance?"
"Approximately two hundred, m'lady."
"Anyone worth noting in particular?"
"Well, the Southern Lord Marks will be there, obviously, and the Western Lord Muir has stated that he will make an appearance later in the evening."
Catherine smiled brightly at Serei. "Thank you so much."
"It's a pleasure serving you, m'lady," she came in close to the princess to whisper, "And I will continue doing so long after the King has passed on. Many of us will serve you till the day we die."
The princess nodded graciously as Serei stood back. "Such unwavering loyalty will be worth its weight in gold someday. And that day may be sooner than you think." Serei bowed again and retreated down the hallway.
"You're going to kill him, aren't you?" Heather asked, pulling Catherine and Vincent to the side so passing servants wouldn't be able to overhear.
Catherine nodded gravely. "I'm planning for the King and the Southern and Western lords' heads on pikes at the end of the evening. Another opportunity like this may not present itself for a long while, so I'll have to take my chances."
Vincent cleared his throat. "You'll have to find a way to kill all three in a relatively short amount of time, so none may escape. We'll also have to put in word to Lieutenant Lowan right after the King is dead, so the Army may be on standby for your orders."
Heather blinked. "Well, I'll let you two worry about that, alright? I have a masquerade ball to plan. And, if all goes well, a coronation ceremony for our new queen," she winked at her older sister before flouncing off to harass the event planner once more.
"She's taking the planning of her father's death rather well," Vincent remarked.
Catherine shook her head. "She almost ripped my head off the first time I told her, but I managed to convince her to open her eyes and see all the horrible things he's done. I can only hope that her guilt over her grief for his death will not consume her."
Vincent inclined an eyebrow. "Will you not grieve his death?"
She paused as a servant passed them by before answering his question. "I will probably grieve a little, but I have come to terms with my involvement in his death. I know you're afraid that I will falter when it comes time to kill him, Vincent." Catherine bore her gaze into his, "I see your wariness. You believe that I will hesitate because of my familial connection to him. But the King is only the man who fucked my mother. If anything, Magnus is my father."
"But he's-,"
"In love with another man? That alone does not make him any less of a man, nor does it mean that he is any less of father figure. So when you have doubts that I will not be able to kill my father, rest assured that the King is not my true father in the first place."
"But should you falter m'lady, I will pick up your sword myself and lob off that crown of his."
Catherine's amber eyes flashed with annoyance. "You will do no such thing. If anyone else kills the King, it would be considered an act of war. I would be looked upon as the greedy princess who hires others to do my dirty work for me. No, I will swing the killing sword."
And it was if, in that moment, all of Vincent's faith had shifted. Whereas before, he had doubted the princess' state of mind and her conviction, now he knew that she would do whatever it took to claim the throne in the name of her people. The Catherine from his dreams had begun to emerge: the perfect blend of warrior and queen. It was as if she too, had finally shaken off her doubts and misgivings.
There was no doubt in Vincent's mind that Catherine would kill the King.
He only hoped that she would do it soon.
I'm sorry about the really infrequent updates! I only have a month left of school and my AP exams are coming up and oh my Jesus I cannot even begin to even with my finals week. *screams*. Once summer rolls around, I'll be able to publish a chapter every freaking day. THAT is what I'm excited for.