Although Evret's obsession of the princess had been plaguing him nearly his whole life, it only got really bad around the age of nineteen.
At that point, he had been captain of the royal guard for a year and a half, and he loved every moment of it. He was truly passionate about his job, watching over all the members of the guard and mentoring the young recruits. It brought him great pleasure, teaching all those young boys the ways of the guard. They reminded him so much of himself at their age.
Although his life wasn't perfect—far from it—he still tried to make the best of things. Most knew him as kind and generous, with incredible patience. He had many close friends, and a girlfriend who always stuck by him.
But like everyone, there was also a dark side to him. One that harboured feelings of hatred, but most of all—lust. Alyssa, his girlfriend of two years, was the nicest girl he'd ever met. She was a very talented painter, and of course, extremely beautiful. Evret knew that he had feelings for her, but he wasn't sure if love was one of them.
(Levana I can't forget you I want to I can't stop be mine)
Because of her. That one girl who he had wanted from the beginning, the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on. The one who had captured his affections, but who he couldn't talk to, because of their different backgrounds. They were raised worlds apart, he as a guard—a servant, really—and she as a princess, an heir to the throne.
Well, there was one day when did talk to her.
That afternoon, after coming back from lunch, Evret sat down at his desk, firing up the netscreen. He tapped his fingers on the sleek metal, his gaze flickering across the screen as the bright and colourful homepage sprang up.
"Display news feed for Artemisia, Luna," he commanded. The device complied, and within seconds pages were popping up, filled with articles of the latest happenings around the city. One feed in particular popped up above the others, him having set it so that any feeds with a specific tag showed up first.
April 16th, 106 T.E: Her Royal Highness, Princess Levana's 17th birthday. A ceremony is to be held in her honour by Their Majesties in the throne room of the Artemisia Palace, and all citizens are invited to come and bestow gifts upon the princess.
He set his cheek against his knuckles. He knew that it was Levana's birthday, of course—every single little detail that he could gather, he remembered. Each year he would bring a gift to the palace, marked anonymously, and as the years went by, they only grew bigger and more lavish. When they were young, it was usually a book, the best one he could find, but that year, he had an exquisite gown made custom, just for her. Early that morning, when the royal family was off for breakfast, he had slipped into her room, leaving the wrapped, unmarked package on her desk.
(just for you Levana only for you I would do this I hope you love it)
He wondered if she would actually wear it. How beautiful she would look in it, the silky fabric hugging her petite body in all the right places...
(oh it's pretty Evret does it look nice do you like it)
He grit his teeth and buried his head in his palms, trying to suppress the heat that was flooding through him at the very thought of her. He crossed his legs, breathing deeply, trying to think of something else, anything else. His attempts were in vain, however, as his traitorous mind conjured up a fantasy that seemed like a movie playing before him.
He saw Levana in his room—the lights dimmed, casting a warm glow on her alabaster skin. She was naked, and so was he. Her finger curled in a 'come hither' motion, her dark eyes hazy, beckoning him forward. He complied, under her spell. She clung onto him, their bodies intertwined as they lay on the bed, with Levana pinned beneath him and her hair splayed out over the pillow like molten copper. Moans of pleasure filled the air as he moved within her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing them even closer together.
(so hot so good I can't stop I love you)
"Mmm, Evret..." his imaginary Levana moaned huskily, running her fingers through his unruly black hair. He bent down, kissing her neck. "A-Ah! Please...right...there..." she breathed, her toes curling as he pushed her over the edge.
(Ah no don't stop I want this I want you so much this is the best)
The sounds echoing in his head only made things worse, and he bit his lip so hard that he nearly drew blood. He had to snap out of it. Thinking of her like that—it felt so wrong, so disgusting—but he just couldn't stop. He couldn't deny or ignore how badly he wanted her, his body aching, knowing he couldn't have her. That being with her was an impossible fantasy.
Because she was a princess, and even though he was captain of the guard, he knew that he would never be worthy of such a woman.
"Evret..." his imaginary Levana spoke again, and he grit his teeth. At that moment, he would've given anything so that she went away.
Stop. Leave me alone.
"I'm right here," she whispered, her voice silky and smooth, making the all-too familiar heat surge through his veins once again. "Why are you ignoring me, Evret? Don't you want me?"
No. You're not real.
"Of course I am. You'd know if you turned around," she responded, stubbornness flooding her tone. He refused to turn and look at her, and he heard what sounded like a foot tapping impatiently.
(so eager darling how can I resist you)
His entire body froze as he felt her arms wrapping around him, and he saw her milky hands come to rest on his chest. His breath hitched as he felt her lips brush against his neck, leaving searing kisses as she made her way up to his ear. "I love you..." she murmured, heat flooding his face at her words, and he closed his eyes, trying to shake her off, willing the hallucination away.
A sharp knock at the door came to his rescue, just when he was about to give up and indulge in his sinful desire. He sighed deeply, trying to steady his breathing before calling out. "Yes?"
(you disgusting pig yes feel shame feel so much shame)
"Sir Hayle, you are needed at today's ceremony. Thaumaturge Mira is expecting you in twenty minutes," a servant called through the door.
"Of course," Evret responded, switching the netscreen off with the push of a button. He stood and stretched his arms out, his body cramped after spending so long in such a constricting position.
He walked over to his closet and pulled out his uniform, changing from the casual clothes he had worn that morning. He massaged his temples and ran a hand through his pitch black hair that ran down to his neck in gentle waves, taming it down. His tan skin was clammy from his freakout just minutes before, and he splashed water on his face from the bathroom sink, the coolness making him sigh in relief.
(so hot so good)
Grabbing his sword and slipping it into the sheath that hung around his hips, he left his room in the guard's wing, making his way to the antechamber where he knew the rest of the guards and thaumaturges would be waiting for the ceremony to begin.
"Ah, and the captain is here! Now we have everyone," he heard Sybil say as he entered the room.
"My sincerest apologies," Evret said as he shuffled over to his spot in front of the procession of guards. Before long, the massive doors opened and they were marching out down the aisle that spanned the middle of the room. He stared straight ahead as he walked along, taking in the people standing at the front—the royal family.
The king and queen were wearing their usual garb of regality, shimmering crowns and luxurious fabrics coming together perfectly. To their right was Princess Channary, as beautiful as ever in a peach coloured dress made entirely from lace, her blonde hair braided and adorned with white roses. Standing in front of them, on the steps, was Princess Levana, in a silk gown the colour of the night sky, the skirt shimmering with what seemed like stars. The bodice wrapped perfectly around her chest, accentuating her curves, with a crescent moon-shaped brooch connecting it to the off-shoulder straps, and midnight blue gloves that stopped a little past her elbows. Her silken auburn hair fell to her waist and a small tiara of shimmering regolith rested amongst her bangs.
His jaw nearly dropped. She was wearing the gown that he had given her.
(oh baby I knew you'd like it I know you like the back of my hand)
He remained stoic and composed as he continued further, yet on the inside, he was filled with glee. She actually liked the gown—his gift—enough to wear it. And did it ever fit her...
He came to a halt at the base of the steps, dipping into a curt bow. "Your Highness," he said, righting himself. "May I express my deepest wishes for a most happy birthday. Alas, I have no gift, but I hope that you appreciate my sentiment all the same."
Levana seemed completely unfazed by the fact that he didn't bear gifts; another one of her qualities that he admired. Unlike Channary, she didn't seem to want for much, and she didn't get upset when things didn't go her way. "That is quite alright," she said, her voice soft and demure, and she smiled, making her look even more beautiful. "After all, it's the thought that counts. I would, however, like to know your name."
It saddened him a bit, how he wasn't even important enough to Levana for her to know his name. "Evret Hayle, or Sir Hayle, if you prefer," he said, looking deep into her eyes.
"Sir Hayle..." She put a finger to her lips. "Captain of the guard. I'll have to remember you."
(oh please I love you Levana you're my everything)
Her words made him smile, and he hid his blush behind his glamour. Levana then curtsied, and although it lacked the grace that he had seen Channary emit so often, he found it to be prettier. The crown princess was perfect, in every way, but he found Levana's flawed personality much more appealing—all her perfect imperfections.
A sudden boldness overtook him, and he took her hand, placing a kiss on the back of it, relishing in the feel of her, of simply being able to touch her. Without looking up to see her reaction, he let go and bowed before turning around and moving to the side, to let the next person come forth.
"Good day, Your Highness." he called out as he walked away, not knowing if she even heard him.
After that, life still went on as usual. He hadn't spoken to her again, despite how much he wanted to. Even though he knew that it was ridiculous, he had hoped that Levana had meant what she said, that she would remember him, and would maybe come to see him again.
She never did, but Evret had enough to worry about. He forced the memory into the recesses of his brain and forgot about it. His duties only increased after the death of Their Majesties, preparing for Channary's coronation and providing extra security around the palace.
After three stressful months of planning and preparation, Luna had finally celebrated the coronation of their new queen, and Evret was assigned to ballroom duty, guarding the partygoers and keeping an eye on his comrades to make sure that they didn't make themselves sick by scarfing down all the deserts.
The party went on without a hitch, and Evret was having a drink with a few of his friends when Sybil had called him over. He wondered whatever for, but didn't question, for it wasn't his place. Sighing, he put down his drink and left, joining the thaumaturge and her company: Channary, Levana and a man walking beside her.
Evret didn't recognize him at first, but his clothing and appearance made him assume that he was of high nobility—maybe even royalty. The emperor of the Eastern Commonwealth, he came to realize, as he stood by the door and listened to the heated argument between said man and the queen. It was all diplomacy, things he couldn't care less about, until Channary started yelling at him about his engagement to her sister.
(how could you shun me Levana why do you love him I want you more)
His face showed no emotion as he stood by, knowing that Sybil was somewhat watching him, but his heart still skipped a beat. Levana was engaged to him? She was to be married? It took him a moment to even process that, and even though he was trying desperately to calm himself, he couldn't help a twitch from developing in his right eye. The thought that he was with his princess, that he was kissing his princess made him tremble with rage. He knew that he was being petty, irrational—but the hate was too strong to ignore. It nearly made him sick when he realized that he was jealous.
(how dare you you uptight royal prick I ought to kill you she's MINE)
He was never envious of anything, of anyone. But the thought of it all, how he had wanted her, how he known her for years and she didn't even remember his name, and then the emperor just swoops in and sweeps her off her feet, winning her hand in marriage; it made him so angry. He was the one who had taken the time to know everything he could about her, the one who had sent her all those gifts, and yet, she chose Saito; probably because he had a crown.
So it brought him great satisfaction as he watched Saito drop dead, knowing that he would never have his princess. When Channary had left him alone with Levana, he had taken her, right then and there. Evret was also angry at her, for having ignored him so long, and he didn't even care that he was hurting her. He blocked out her screams, and he finally got what he wanted—he had made her his. He didn't think much of it at the time, only out for his own pleasure, to satisfy his own demons. He had left her there, alone in that room, violated and in excruciating pain, not even realizing how much he had made her suffer.
(you're mine baby you've always been mine)
Like all painful memories, he stamped it down, and went about his business as usual, as if he hadn't just ruined a poor girl's life. A very, very small and dark part of himself thought that she deserved it, for it was her fault that he felt such lust for her in the first place. She was the one who had haunted him for all those years, who had teased him and taunted him with her beauty that was so far out of reach, who had seduced him without even knowing.
The witch.
After that, he figured that it was the end of it. He knew that Levana would hate him forever—but he was too far gone to care. What did it matter, anyway? He couldn't ever have been truly with her, and he had gotten what he wanted. The fact she was a virgin, that he had been her first gave him a strange sense of satisfaction; he had claimed her as his own.
(Levana you wanted it you know you did you're mine and you know it)
He thought that he would never speak to her again—until one afternoon, when he had some rather unexpected company.
He had the day off, a rare occasion. He was taking most advantage of it, devouring the many, many books on his reading list. He was just deciding which one to read next when he had heard a loud pounding at the door, that cut off his train of thought abruptly, and he jumped, his heart nearly tearing out of his chest.
"EVRET HAYLE! OPEN THE DOOR THIS INSTANT!" a furious voice roared, and Evret stood, shaking slightly from the shock. As he went over to the door and opened it, he was met with the last person in the world he expected to see—Queen Channary. She looked dishevelled, a few strands of hair coming loose from her braid, her pale cheeks blotchy and her lips twisted into a sneer, her breathing ragged and audible. She growled, pushing him further into the room and slamming the door behind her, coming closer to him with long strides.
"My Queen, whatever brings you—" he started, but was cut off as her hand shot out and wrapped itself around his throat, pushing him against the wall and constricting his airway.
"You have to be the most irresponsible idiot I have ever had the misfortune of meeting," she spat, her brown eyes blazing, her body trembling with fury. Evret gulped, gripping her hand as hard as he could and tearing it away from his neck, gasping in relief. Channary's hand fell back to her side, her fists clenching. "What do have to say for yourself?"
"I don't know what you mean, Your Majesty. What have I done to anger you?" he croaked, trying to soothe his burning throat.
The queen chuckled darkly. "You don't know what I mean." Another laugh. "I'm talking about Levana, of course."
"What of her?" he said, his voice raspy.
"Well, let's see..." Channary put a finger to her lips, seemingly deep in thought. She then took him by surprise as she slapped him, hard. "I give you permission to fuck her and this is how you repay me?!" she screeched, her face contorted with rage.
"What? What did I DO?" he yelled, angry now. Holding a hand to his stinging cheek, he pushed her away slightly.
"She's pregnant, Evret," Channary said, putting her hands on her hips.
Silence fell upon them, as Evret's eyes widened, looking at her as if she had just spoken Chinese. "What?"
"You knocked her up. Got her pregnant. What's so hard to understand?" She rolled her eyes, bringing her arms up and crossing them over her chest.
"Pregnant..." he mumbled, taking a sudden interest in his feet. He stared down at his black shoes, his gaze seeming to bore holes through them. His mind was racing, going into overdrive. He tried to wrap his mind around the reality of what Channary had just said. Pregnant. He had gotten Levana pregnant.
He was going to be a father.
"Is she going to...keep it?" he asked tentatively, his gaze wandering up to Channary's face.
"Wouldn't you like to know." the queen replied, her voice snarky and mocking.
"Yes, I would very much like to know whether or not I'll be having a child come into the world," he replied with just as much venom in his tone, and Channary narrowed her eyes.
"Yes, Levana will carry the child to term. But," she pressed a finger to his chest, "you will not interfere or introduce yourself to it, ever."
He grit his teeth. "But I'm the father."
"I don't care. It was never supposed to exist in the first place. Your idiocy is the only one to blame," she said, her brow furrowed. "Speaking of which, you're going to have to make it up to me."
Evret's pulse throbbed in his ears, and it took him a moment to even comprehend what the queen was saying. "I do beg your pardon?"
"Why must I explain everything to you? I swear, your brain must be in your toes," she sighed, shaking her head. "Didn't they teach you the meaning of responsibility while you were training as a child? Such carelessness, like you've shown with my sister, cannot go unpunished."
"How do you think I should be punished, then?" he grumbled, biting his cheek, trying to stamp down his irritation.
Channary ignored the contempt in his voice. "You'll have to work an extra shift."
Evret raised an eyebrow. "That's all? Doesn't really seem like much, considering how much this whole situation upsets you."
"You'll see, when you find out exactly what kind of shift you'll be given."
"Kind of shift?" he echoed warily.
There was a bout of silence before Channary spoke again. "Since she's now pregnant, Levana will need a personal guard."