Fall, 754:
(Two years before)
It was a rare occasion, these days, that Reina stayed out overnight. She hadn't even spent the night with Noctis for more than six months. It was simply an impossible task to find the time anymore. If she stayed with Noct she invariably stayed up all night and then had to be back in the Citadel for morning meetings, court, and a slew of other responsibilities with no pause for rest. Staying with Noctis meant foregoing sleep for forty-eight hours and, as she told her brother matter-of-factly, she just didn't love him that much.
But that night was her good friend Elynor's birthday celebration. It had been nearly two years since Reina had trimmed down her social outings in favor of staying close to the Citadel. It was just possible to make an obligatory appearance at parties as necessary without offending anyone, but a twentieth birthday called for something more. The last thing she wanted was for her friends to believe she didn't care. Well. The second to last thing.
So she had cleared her evening schedule and checked in with her father to ensure he was well and truly fine. He promised her he was and she believed him. And so, with the warning that she might well be out very late—but with the insistence that she would be available by phone should he need anything at all—she bid the king goodbye and went out to meet her friends.
Nights in Insomnia were beautiful.
It was easy to get wrapped up in technical details of running a kingdom and forget to enjoy it; Reina had forgotten. She went out so infrequently that she had forgotten just how much she loved the Crown City.
It was never really dark. It was never really asleep. When the sun went down the lights turned on and the music turned up. She could have walked down Caelum Street and passed a dozen clubs and hundreds of people. Before she could do that, though, she had to find her friends.
She was dropped at the street corner, along with Nyx Ulric—her shadow for the night. Usually an excursion away from the Citadel meant Reina was accompanied by one or more crownsguards, but that night, for whatever reason, her father had requested she bring one of the Kingsglaive. The precise motivations she couldn't guess at. The Crownsguard was made up, more or less, or ordinary men and women who were highly trained to protect the royal family and the Crown City. The Kingsglaive, on the other hand, were an elite group—mostly Lucians from beyond the Wall—who had shown an affinity for wielding His Majesty's magic. The only reason to send a Kingsglaive instead of a crownsguard was if he was expecting trouble.
Or he was just being fretful. That wasn't like him.
Reina took a moment to appreciate the night; it was crisp and cool with the lingering smell of damp in the air. Overhead the stars were blotted out by clouds, as was common that time of year. Perhaps, if they were lucky, there would be snow in the morning.
But, as she was dressed for the warm interior of the beckoning club and not for snow, she didn't linger more than that moment. She slipped beneath the shining neon sign, which read 'Eclipse,' and into the dark and pounding interior. Her Kingsglaive companion followed, at her elbow no matter where she turned. She was accustomed to it. For his part, he seemed to have no trouble following her as she wove through the crowd, heading for the cordoned-off loft.
Predictably, Reina drew eyes as she passed through. Nyx must have formed an imposing sight, though, because no one approached her. In the end, she united with the group of four girls in the upper section, being admitted without question.
"Rei! Oh, Astrals, I'm so happy you made it!" Elynor greeted her with a hug that was more a pounce. Reina weathered it, grinning broadly. They, along with the other three girls, had been close friends since middle school: Elynor, Ismay, Braya, Selph, and Reina.
"Nevermind Rei, who's the hunk?" Ismay broke off from the group to approach, but she didn't spare a glance for Reina.
Reina glanced between Ismay and Nyx—who had no reaction whatsoever. He stood at parade rest and looked at none of them. If he had any opinions about being admired by the princess' friends, he was too good at his job to let it show.
"That's Nyx. He's working; leave him alone."
"No fair, bringing a hot bodyguard to my birthday and calling hands-off." Elynor's carefully painted lips made a cute pout. She batted long lashes at Nyx for a moment—he didn't spare her a glance— before turning abruptly. "Oh well. Come on, Reina, have a round! You're already behind."
Reina made a face, allowing herself to be dragged along toward the table. "I'm not twenty yet."
"Oh who cares," Elynor rolled her eyes. "It's not like anyone checks or does anything about it."
She pushed a tall tube—which looked like it would have been more at home in a laboratory than a nightclub—into Reina's hand and picked a second for herself. Reina smiled placidly, but didn't fold.
"I'm afraid one more downside of being royalty is that everyone knows how old I am and that everyone does care what I do." She gave a dramatic sigh, passing the drink to Ismay instead, "You plebs have life so easy."
"Who are you calling a pleb?!" Ismay held the newly-acquired drink over Reina's head, threatening to upend it.
"Your beautiful self," said Reina.
Ismay made a face that suggested this was an acceptable answer and took the shot instead of dumping it on Reina's head.
"Now can I please just eat junk food and pretend I'm not weird for a couple hours, before I have to go back home and face the truth?"
It was a request that everyone agreed heartily to. Pizza with too much cheese, practically dripping with grease, waited for them at their table. As much as Reina knew her stomach was going to object in the morning, she indulged. Raucous laughter and rowdy conversation filled the air as they sat. It was nice to forget about everything for a little while.
After they were suitably fed and the others were suitably hydrated—if it could be called that—they descended to the lower level and disappeared onto the dance floor. It was a little harder to forget, there, where people were watching and she knew she needed to exercise some caution to avoid ending up on the front page of the morning paper. Somehow the headline Princess Reina Dances Suggestively or Lucian Princess Has a Dancefloor Wardrobe Malfunction didn't sound much like good press. Pictures would be taken, regardless. Probably, blurry phone pictures of her dancing would decorate the tabloids for months. But that was just something to live with. For the most part Nyx kept the more annoying members of the crowd at bay.
Eventually they returned to their loft refuge for more pizza and whatever alcohol it was that filled the tube-shots. Raucous laughter became drunken laughter—Reina was convinced it was more entertaining to watch her friends make fools of themselves than to participate herself. They seemed to have a steadily decreasing ability to walk straight and speak clearly. There was a food fight. Then cheese-stuffed breadsticks replaced the pizza they had thrown at each other.
It was past midnight when Reina's phone chimed with a text from her father.
How are you faring?
Reina smiled, though she felt a twinge of guilt at having left him alone; he should have been in bed, by then!
There's pizza on my blouse. Otherwise fine. You should be asleep!
"Who're you texting?" Elynor's voice was too loud for how close she was sitting She leaned over, putting a hand on the back of Reina's chair, apparently for balance. It wasn't an overwhelmingly successful endeavor.
"Oh, you know. His Royal Majesty, King Regis Lucis Caelum the One Hundred Thirteenth," Reina said casually.
"Duh," said Ismay.
"Duh," Reina agreed.
Her phone chimed again: Are you drinking?
Reina smiled and shook her head: Of course not, Father. GO TO BED.
"Why you gotta rub it in our faces that you're on texting terms with the king?" Elynor said.
"Seriously! Who else has a dad that can text?!" Ismay yelled.
Reina grinned. "He usually calls, but I warned him it wouldn't be a great environment for a phone conversation."
"So, what does His Majesty say?" Elynor asked.
"Normal dad stuff. 'Are you still alive?' 'Are you being irresponsible?' "
"Boring."
"Exactly. Let's go dance," Reina agreed.
"I'm bored of this club. Let's go to Ophiuchus," said Elynor.
So they went. The events there were much the same as in the Eclipse; Reina wasn't positive what the point of changing clubs was, but it was interesting to see more interiors. Usually she just got to drive past them.
They were on their way to a third club when Reina caught Nyx texting.
"Who are you texting?"
He looked at her, deadpan, and said: "His Royal Majesty, King Regis Lucis Caelum the One Hundred Thirteenth."
She smiled brightly, "So you do have a sense of humor."
He neither confirmed nor denied this.
She looked at her phone for the time. It was past two. "He's still up?"
"Dunno. But I have instructions to provide regular updates all the same."
"Geez. He doesn't usually worry so much." First the Kingsglaive escort, now he wanted updates from Nyx all night?
Her shadow didn't respond—not that she had expected him to—but he had given her enough to think was more difficult to distract herself for the remainder of the night. She spotted Nyx sending texts several more times throughout: each time they changed clubs and otherwise every hour on the hour. The king didn't text her again. She hoped that he had gone to bed and that the updates were simply a precaution. Of course it made sense that someone should know where they were—probably the messages were going to Cor or Drautos, as well. She didn't ask. She tried to be a normal nineteen year old for the rest of the night, since she had promised to stay out as long as they wanted.
As long as they wanted turned out to be dawn. There had been more than one unscheduled bathroom trip along their night but, miraculously, no one passed out. When the sky grew light and the clubs closed their doors, Elynor finally agreed that it was time to call it a night.
They bid their goodbyes standing on the street, waiting for their rides home to arrive.
Once Reina was tucked safely in the back of the car sent for her, she let out a breath and shut her eyes. It was going to be a very long day.
It was seven by the time she reached the Citadel. She gave Nyx her thanks—he had been endlessly patient with the group of drunken twenty-year-olds shamelessly flirting with him—then she returned to her rooms to shower and change, swallowing a whole pot of coffee along the way. Still, she was forced to rush to make it to her morning meeting with the outer city planning committee. Reluctant as she was to not be able to check in with her father before going, there was simply no time. She made sure that word was sent to him and resigned herself to a caffeine-fueled morning meeting.
They concluded on time, surprisingly enough, and she was freed to attend court. The king was already in attendance when she arrived, so she was announced with due formality. As she climbed to the dais, the king rose to greet her. He looked wane. Concerningly so.
"Hello, Father. I apologize for my late return; I hope I did not concern you overmuch." She gave him a hopeful smile as she came to stand before him, but he didn't return it. His only response was to wrap her in his arms and hug her tightly.
When he did release her, pulling back with his hands still on her shoulders, his eyes searched her face.
"I am pleased to have you back," was all he said before he motioned her to take her seat beside him.
Reina did as she was bidden, but her mind dwelled, not on the matters of the court, but on her father. Had his voice sounded weaker, or was that her imagination? Had he not said more because they were in court, or because he did not know what to say, or because there was nothing to say? Had he actually stayed up waiting for each of Nyx's updates?
She fretted when she should have been attentive. Her own sleepless night was forgotten as she worried about how the king had fared without her. It was clear that he was tired. He shouldn't have been so tired so early in the day unless he hadn't slept well. And if he hadn't that was her fault.
There seemed little she could do for the moment, much as she hated it. She wished she could share her energy with him but knew he would never allow it. She set her hand over his, where it rested on the arm of his throne, and contented herself with the knowledge that she could do something when they broke for lunch.
They never made it that far.
It was not even eleven when her father tapped her hand with the signal that meant he wished to speak to her. She leaned across without question, putting her head near enough that she could hear when he spoke in an undertone—audible only to her.
"I need you to end this."
In spite of all her training in neutral expressions, her eyes widened; she turned to look at him, wondering if he was actually asking what she was hearing. He didn't look at her. He looked straight ahead with the obstinate, tight-jawed expression that he wore whenever he was struggling to hold onto his dignity.
"I cannot last another two hours," he said, lips barely moving. "Close the court."
His voice was firm with command, leaving no room for question or objection—not that she would have, anyway—but she knew how much it cost him to admit. If he was unwell enough to swallow his pride and tell her to halt the regularly scheduled session early….
"Yes, Father," Reina murmured.
When the current audience was concluded and before the next began, Reina rose from her place, signalling to the attendants that they should not admit another.
"That will be all for this day. We will resume this session tomorrow, as scheduled," she used one of the voices she had carefully cultivated over the last year and a half: the one that sounded a bit like her father, leaving no space for questions.
No one questioned.
If they thought it was odd, they didn't say so out loud. Not there, under the princess' sharp gaze. She had come a long way from the night when her father's councillors objected to the premature halting of their meeting. Today, the only responses her declaration was met with were bows and 'Very well, Your Highness's.
She turned to her father to help him from his throne. After a moment's hesitation, she offered what she hadn't dared to, before.
"I can give you my strength…"
He didn't even look at her sharply, just wearily, as he shook his head and sighed, accepting her arm but not her offer.
"Not even to save what little remains of my dignity."
They took the steps down from his throne slowly, one at a time, and slipped out the rear door together. In the quiet hall beyond the throne room, he let out another sigh as he leaned more heavily on her arm. His limp, she noticed, was more pronounced; she did what she could to steady him.
"Your knee troubles you?"
He didn't look at her. "My knee. My head and my neck. My shoulders and my back. Perhaps it would be shorter to list what does not trouble me."
Reina squeezed his hand, her stomach twisting with guilt. "I will fix all of those things."
He did look at her, then, coming to a halt in the middle of the hallway. His expression softened from the grim focus he had worn before as a mask. Beneath it there was exhaustion and pain, but even so he managed to smile at her, his eyes warming as he took his hand from hers and smoothed it over her hair.
"I know," he said, leaning forward to kiss her forehead.
She was at a loss for words, so she didn't say any. It was confidence like she didn't expect anyone to have in her, but always wanted to inspire. Was that why he had told her? Was she the reason he was willing to end court early? The warm feeling that flickered at the thought was almost enough to blot out the guilt she felt at having been the cause in the first place.
Almost.
They began walking again. It was a slow walk to the elevator and subsequently to the king's chambers, but somehow they made it. Inside, the king dropped onto the edge of his bed and pulled off his crown. Reina stopped in front of him to remove his collar and relieve him of his more cumbersome formal clothing so that he could get some rest. Before she had done more than the former, however, her father halted her by wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning against her. Sitting, his forehead just touched her sternum—it was odd to be taller than him, but not quite as odd as the unrestrained show of affection.
"Father?"
Reina smoothed her hands over his hair and down the back of his neck, forgetting how cold they were until he made a sound of surprise.
"Sorry," she apologized hurriedly, but he didn't pull away and he didn't allow her to; he caught one of her hands and held it in place until she rested both of them on the back of his neck once more.
"Continue. Please."
Surprised, but unwilling to argue, Reina did as she was bidden. All the same, she couldn't help but think that he would be considerably more comfortable if he would let her take his cape and knee brace, and climb properly into bed while she retrieved the little bottle of oil that had become commonplace in their day-to-day routine.
Yet again she wondered if he had slept at all the night before. Would he even tell her if she asked? She elected not to. At least, not for the moment. Just then she was more concerned with what came next over what had been.
She ventured a suggestion, looking down at the top of his head, though her hands didn't stop moving. "Will you let me make you more comfortable? I can handle your knee and your headache in proper time, so you can get some rest."
He said nothing; not even wordless assent or disagreement. Had he actually fallen asleep like that? Reina pulled back to ascertain, resting her hands on his shoulders. As soon as she did so, he answered the question for her: he made a sound of objection as soon as she stopped, his arms tightening around her when she tried to take a step back. Now it was Reina's turn to sound surprised; she managed to keep her balance, in spite of her thwarted step. When her hands rested once more against the back of his neck, however, his hold loosened and he relaxed once more, still without saying a word.
Reina sighed inwardly. She continued, but only for a moment before making another attempt. She didn't pull her hands away, but dropped down instead of stepping back, so that she rested on one knee before him. He did look at her then. Still weary, still uncomfortable, but now without the mask held in place by pride and dignity.
"Let me do this properly, Father," she said, her voice gentle but firm—not the sort of tone one usually used with a king, and certainly not one Reina usually used with her father. "You will feel better."
He shut his eyes and sighed. Though he still didn't say a word, he let his arms fall away from her. It seemed to be the closest she was going to get to an agreement. Reina took it. She didn't give him another chance for objections as she set about methodically removing his layers and leaving them folded neatly on the end of the bed. When she was through and he sat propped among the pillows, Reina brought the bottle of magicked oil over and knelt on the bed beside him.
She began with his knee, though she could see an objection forming.
"You will fall asleep during the rest—or you ought to—so I must do this first," Reina interrupted as soon as he opened his mouth. He shut it again with a snap, giving her a mournful look.
Reina smiled in spite of herself as she rubbed oil over his knee. "No amount of tugging at my heartstrings will stir my mercy."
He smiled at that. He didn't respond, however, until several minutes later, when his knee was no longer on the long list of troubles. By that time, she had very nearly forgotten that there was anything to respond to. But when she had directed him to lay on his stomach and uncorked the bottle once more, he spoke.
"You would be an excellent queen."
Reina wrinkled her nose: it was an automatic reaction to being teased about her place in the monarchy. And she had little doubt that he was teasing her, because anything short of that made no sense. In any case, she was pleased that he was feeling well enough to tease her, now, though it took a moment for her to remember what had precipitated the remark.
"Because I have no mercy?" She asked dryly.
"It is an invaluable trait for a ruler."
"And here I thought you meant it when you said I was kind."
She saw the smile on his face, though his eyes were still shut, and she couldn't help but mirror it.
"That is an invaluable trait for a good person; the two are rarely the same."
It was often said that good kings were seldom good people. She could see the point of the observation—often a king had to do what was in the best interest for the most of his people; that meant he wasn't doing best by some of the people, but there was no place in the world for a ruler to dwell on that. As such, it was very easy for a king who rightly made firm decisions and never looked back to appear heartless. Pragmatically she understood that. From a personal point of view, she disagreed.
"You must be the exception," she said.
Perhaps their ancestors had been good kings and poor men; Reina couldn't say. But she did know for certain that her father was a good man.
"I shall pretend I did not hear that, so that I do not feel obligated to argue."
Reina smiled. She let him pretend, just as he let her pretend that he had been teasing in the first place. Sometimes denial was the only way to handle an uncomfortable truth.
They persisted in silence for some time. It was strange to see the sun still up outside the window; the clock on the opposite wall said it wasn't even noon, yet. Somehow, time seemed to stop at the door, here. Everything else did, too. Outside, stress and worry at having concluded court early pounded at her, lingering guilt at having been the cause coulded her mind, and concern for her father's health loomed over everything. But closed up in his rooms with just the two of them, all their responsibilities fell away. Everything else she could fix. She had fixed. The king no longer looked exhausted and pained. In fact, he looked as if he had fallen asleep.
Reina paused, sitting back on her heels and stifling a yawn. She had forgotten that she had been up all night, as well. Her eyes lingered on the blue sky outside the window for a moment before she moved, intent on drawing the curtains. Before she was off the bed, however, her father caught her wrist, effectively halting her.
He wasn't quite as asleep as he looked, it seemed. She was surprised; with how worn he had looked, she hadn't expected him to last so long.
She looked at his fingers closed around her wrist and covered his hand with her free one. "Father?"
"Stay. Please."
Surprised for a second time, Reina raised her eyebrows.
"Of course." She hadn't intended to leave, but it spoke volumes that he went out of his way to ask her not to. "Just let me close the curtains; I'll be right back."
He released her slowly, as if he was doing it against his better judgement, and his eyes opened to watch her do just what she had said she would. Again she wondered at his unusual concern the night before. Had he really read all of those texts Nyx sent?
She returned to the bed, pulling the blankets up to cover his shoulders and settling in beside him. He watched her, certainly still awake but in the heavy-lidded sort of way that suggested he was fighting sleep.
"Did you sleep much, last night? I was afraid Nyx would wake you with his updates."
He considered her for a moment before responding.
"He did not wake me."
It wasn't a full answer. When he blinked next his eyes never opened again. She wondered if he intended to avoid the question altogether, or if he would just fall asleep before making a response. But as unwilling as he seemed to be to give an answer, he seemed more unwilling to sleep. He spoke.
"Perhaps I dozed in between. I am uncertain."
In between the one-hour updates? Reina raised her eyebrows once again, though she knew he couldn't see her expression. He had slept not at all or hardly at all—so little that he didn't know if he had or not. And that had been her fault.
She sighed, running her hands over her face before wrapping her arms around his neck and snuggling closer. "I will not stay out like that again."
"It was not your doing," he insisted.
"No? Can you honestly say that you would not have slept any better, had I been here?" She leaned back to look at his face, though his eyes remained shut.
His silence was answer enough.
He had, to her knowledge, never struggled to sleep before. And her knowledge was fairly extensive, as of late.
"Well I am here, now. So get some sleep. It's no good for you to be up all night."
"Nor you." His eyes flickered open to look at her, at last.
"I am nineteen," she pointed out.
"A growing child who needs her rest."
Reina made a face at him. "I haven't grown in seven years. Now go to sleep. I will sleep if you do."
He looked at her for a moment, as if considering her proposition. Finally, with the ghost of a smile on his lips, he said, "We have an accord."
It was a sleep so heavy that, when Reina woke, it was impossible to tell how much time has passed. With the blinds drawn she couldn't see the color of the sky outside and the resulting the dim light, her sleep-fogged brain didn't want to process the face of the clock. She woke in precisely the same position she had fallen asleep in, without knowing just what it was that had roused her. There was a heaviness in her limbs but, as thoughts began to trickle, one by one, back through her mind, she registered it as a pleasant feeling. Before her mind worked back around to wondering what had caused her to wake, a second knock at the door answered the question for her.
She might have been inclined to ignore it and go back to sleep with the blankets over her head, but her father was still asleep and she preferred to leave him that way. So, in order to prevent a third knock or—worse yet—someone coming in to see what had become of the king after his unscheduled departure from court, she rose and went to the door, heedless of the state of her hair and wrinkled dress.
Outside she found Clarus.
"Your Highness. Is anything amiss? After this morning I had at least expected to see you at the afternoon council—as it was we were forced to hold the meeting without you."
Reina stepped outside into the hall, shutting the door quietly behind her to keep the sounds of conversation from disturbing her father. She had to force her brain to put the pieces together. Afternoon council was at three. They usually went for a few hours at least, which meant it was after five at the earliest. Had they really slept for six hours? It seemed a blink.
"My apologies," Reina murmured, trying to get her voice to work properly. She cleared her throat. "I had not intended to sleep through the whole day."
Clarus raised his eyebrows at her. "And His Majesty?"
"Still asleep, but well enough. He ought be permitted the occasional day off." If he thought her tone sounded defensive, he wasn't offended by it.
"I quite agree. If such a thing arises unexpectedly in the future, please do not hesitate to call on my aid for filling any gaps."
He was right and she knew it; she should have sent word to him in the first place And she knew him well enough to know he wouldn't begrudge her father a rest. It was unfitting of her to get bent out of shape over it. And unfitting of her not to have had the foresight to do something earlier in the day.
"Another oversight on my part. I apologize again." She bowed her head in deference to him.
When she looked back up at him he was studying her with a curious expression. He glanced sideways at the crownsguards who stood on either side of her; every one of them knew not to repeat scraps of conversation overheard while they were working, but there was often still a formality held in their presence. It accounted for Clarus' use of titles, when usually he would have referred to her and the king by name. But for a moment, he dropped it.
"Reina." He rested a hand on her shoulder, looking earnestly at her. "At nineteen you do more in this kingdom than I do. You can be forgiven some forgetfulness where concern for your father is due. You can be forgiven a night of lighthearted celebration, as well. But even if you forget every responsibility you have taken upon yourself, try not to forget that you are not alone here. Whatever Regis would have you believe, it is not a weakness to ask for or accept aid."
Surprised and a little confused by his sudden earnest advice, Reina had to duck her head to hide her blush.
"Thank you," she mumbled, a tone more befitting a nineteen year old than a de-facto monarch. When she looked back up at him, he was smiling. "I believe my father will continue to rest for the evening. If you could see to matters in his stead, we would both be grateful."
"Of course." He bowed. "And yourself?"
"'I'll be with him. If you see Gladiolus, please tell him I won't be training with him, tonight."
"I will. Enjoy your rest, Reina."
Back inside, Reina checked the clock to find her guess had been close: half past five. So much for lunch.
"Who was it?"
Startled, Reina turned to find her father still abed but rather more awake than she had expected, watching her contemplate the clock.
"I thought you were asleep," she scolded halfheartedly, coming to sit on the edge of his bed.
"I thought we had an agreement."
"I did sleep!"
"As did I." He smiled; she was pleased to see the return of his good humor. "Are you going to tell me who came to my door, or shall I have to wait until I hear later, from the source, of some new expectation placed upon me?"
Reina stuck her tongue out at him. "It was just Clarus. He came to check on you."
"And you were rude to him."
"I—what? I was not!" No one but her father could reduce the usually-calm princess to sputtering indignation.
He smiled widely. "It is of no use, lying to me. You are always sharp when you are worried. Poor Clarus comes to see to his friend and finds himself, instead, face to face with my overprotective daughter: hissing like a cat over her kittens. Tell me the truth: you said to him that it was none of his business if I chose to take a day off, did you not?"
Reina flushed scarlet. She opened her mouth to deny the accusation—she hadn't, after all, said such a thing—but stopped, remembering that what she had said was much the same. She shut her mouth.
The king's laugh was a low rumbling, warm and pleasant like the smell of coffee on a cold morning. It was hard to be indignant with him when he laughed like that. Reina tried, anyway.
She wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue to hide the upturn of her smile, then crossed her arms over her chest, the picture of a pouting princess.
"A hissing cat, am I? Your overprotective daughter?"
"Quite so," his laughter faded, but his smile remained. He pushed himself upright and sat leaning against the headboard. "It is supposed to be the other way around; are you aware?"
"The overprotective father?" Reina raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, you've had your chance. Not that I recall seeing much of it."
"You never gave me the proper opportunities," he said, suddenly mournful, as if the thought of having not been able to chase away numerous boyfriends was akin to having never seen the ocean. "You were supposed to bring home droves of young men so that I could tell you they were unbefitting one such as yourself."
"So sorry to disappoint," Reina said dryly.
"You ought be! I have the perfect position for it; just think how intimidated your young men would be." He sat up straight and put on the stern, kingly mask he wore in court. When he spoke again it was with a voice to match: "So. You desire to date my daughter. Tell me: what are your qualifications? Your parentage? Your education?"
Reina's hold on her indignation slipped. The smile that worked its way across her face was impossible to fight; it only grew as her father persisted, and culminated in a fit of giggles.
His kingly persona dropped—once more she was sitting in a room with her father instead of King Regis: "You, meanwhile, might stand nearby and look suitably embarrassed and exasperated."
"Oh I might, might I?"
"That is what is done," he said simply.
"Well I'm so sorry not to have given you that opportunity."
"The time is early, yet. You might still take pity on an old man and try to get engaged—I shall have to refuse, of course, but you may try."
"I'm afraid it's too late, father," Reina patted his knee sympathetically. "I've been promoted to your mother, remember?"
"I daresay I can manage a defrocking."
"Defrock the king's mother?" Reina said with mock horror, "How would you even begin?"
"It is a simply process," he took her hand, covering it with both of his. "All that must be done is to return you to a state of daughter."
With the last word he dragged at her hand, catching her and rolling her onto the bed. Reina, caught unaware, had to consciously not respond with a counter. Too many hours of combat practice instilled certain reflexes that, when one belonged to a family notorious for horseplay, became inconvenient in social situations. Breaking the king's nose, she suspected, would have been frowned upon.
She managed to allow him to throw her, only letting out a single, startled cry as she landed on his other side. It didn't remain solitary for long. No sooner was she on the bed than his hands were at her sides, picking out every half-remembered ticklish spot from her youth.
How did he even remember where she was ticklish?!
There was no point trying to formulate an intelligent response. In an instant she was breathless with screams of laughter, squirming and struggling to escape as she clutched at his hands. Her screams mingled with the low roll of the king's chuckle. He deftly avoided her flailing limbs, his hands slipping from her grasp time and time again, instead finding a new place that only made her squeal more loudly.
Any minute, now, the crownsguards outside would burst in to save her.
It was her one hope, as she fought for air against the involuntary reaction to being tickled. No one who had never been so mercilessly assaulted could understand the impossible mix of pain and euphoria that resulted. Not one person had ever wanted to continue being tickled. And yet, when it was through, no matter how much they wanted it to stop before, it didn't seem so bad in hindsight.
The crownsguards never came. Perhaps because she was laughing and he was laughing, and every third gasping breath was punctuated by:
"Dad—stop!"
Eventually he did.
Reina lay, eyes shut, catching her breath in the relief that followed. She didn't resist when he pulled her close in a hug.
"There, now. All is complete; mothers cannot be tickled. Only daughters have that privilege."
She opened one eye to glare at him. "I think we will have to agree to disagree about what constitutes 'privilege'."
He smiled. She smiled. He kissed her head and held her all the more tightly, and it was agreed: the open trust, the warmth of love and indignation all mixed up together in the moments of tickling and the elated relief that followed… that was the highest privilege.