A Sword For The Crown
"What the hell were you thinking?!"
The grip on her arms was tight, crumpling the silk sleeves of her dress. Stone pressed harshly into her spine as she was backed against it.
Caroline pursed her lips as she lifted her chin, her blue eyes narrowed. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest; each beat a punishing jab.
She took a quick breath, sharp and grounding.
"You forget yourself, Sir Mikaelson, how dare you lay your hands on me."
Caroline watched, teeth drawing blood from her lip, as a wave of ice passed over her knight's expression. He stepped back from her, smoothing the wrinkles from her gown, face impassive.
"My apologies, Your Highness, I will not overstep my bounds again."
The taste of copper was bitter on her tongue. "I should hope not."
Whatever words they may have said were smothered as a new figure came barreling through the door.
"Caroline!"
Her fingers twitched, pinching the fabric of her skirt they were buried in. Her knight's hand that clenched around a sword hilt did not go unnoticed by her keen eye, even as she turned her attention to the new arrival.
She inclined her head, the angle exactly what proprietary demanded. "Lord Lockwood."
He barely acknowledged her greeting, pulling her into his embrace as he inspected her appearance. His frown deepened as he noted the creases in her dress.
"They dared harm you?! I will have their heads for such an offense!"
Caroline pressed a gentle hand to his chest, peering up at him from beneath her lashes. "I thank you for your quick defense, Lord Lockwood, but my loyal knight performed his duties well. My accosters did not but mar my dress."
His expression barely faltered. "They should never have been able to touch you at all."
She ran her fingers down the intricate stitching of his doublet, softening her voice as she spoke. "Perhaps, had you been there, that would have been the truth."
His chest drew forward at her touch, even as he seemed to straighten proudly.
"Certainly that would have been so, My Lady."
Once more the conversation was interrupted, this time by a knock at the chamber door.
"Enter," Lord Lockwood permitted, his eyes still focused on her.
Caroline's quiet sigh was drowned out by the sound of the door opening, the heavy metal handle clanking as it moved.
The page boy that now stood in the entryway was rigid, his eyes darting between the back of Lord Lockwood and her.
Movements short and impatient, Lord Lockwood released her and stepped toward the boy, glower once more in place.
"Speak, boy!"
Caroline offered a subtle nod as the boy chanced a quick glance in her direction. She watched some of the stiffness leave the the boy's shoulders and he stepped forward to quietly murmur his message to Lord Lockwood.
Turning abruptly once the news had been delivered, the Lord offered a shallow bow in her direction. "Apologies, it seems I shall be handling the matter of your attack. I assure you, My Lady, they will never touch you again."
With those parting words, the Lord swept from the room, paying no more attention to those he left behind.
The page bowed deeply.
"Your Highness, I apologize for the intrusion. His Majesty has brought the Lords Salvatore before the Court. Not a tongue will be still these coming nights."
A tiny smile curled across Caroline's lips, her knight their only witness. "My thanks, Matthew, you have done well."
The boy rose from his bow, taking the dismissal for what it was, and left the two alone once more.
The door closed behind him with a solid thud of wood against stone.
With a quiet whisper of cloth, Caroline glided across the room to the chair that sat before her desk. Quill nib met ink, her hand creating graceful loops of calligraphy. She did not turn, even as she heard the near silent approach of her knight.
"Is there something you wish to say, Sir Mikaelson?" She inquired, her eyes locked on the words she was elegantly inscribing.
"I know it is not my place, but I still believe your actions this night were reckless, Your Highness. You are as daring as you are cunning, but had you just given me word I would have gladly taken their lives in your honor."
The tiniest of ink drops fell outside the smooth lines of her writing, her hand having only deviated for a split second.
"…You are correct, it is not your place," she said, tossing the ruined parchment into the fire of her hearth.
This time she heard his hand clench, his sword shifting ever so slightly in its sheath. Tongues of flames devoured wood and turned it to ash in their silence, the sound loud and harsh to her ears.
Slowly, she formed new black curls of ink, her eyes catching every detail. Nib met ink met parchment again and again.
Another click cut through the air as his hand fell to his side.
"I beg your pardon, Your Highness, I shall return to guarding your chambers."
The fire covered the sounds of the quiet scratches of her writing. Its crackling hid their absence just as well.
Caroline's finger twitched against the stem of her quill, her writing ceased. She watched as her knight marched away from her, his posture straight and perfect. He did not turn and catch her regard, and the door shut behind him.
She turned back toward her desk, her gaze instantly alighting on the giant ink splotch that had dripped onto the parchment. If her fingers trembled for a moment they quickly steadied, and her well-trained hands set the quill aside to lift the parchment to her lips. Breath dried ink and nimble fingers folded the parchment to be tucked away with all the others. An entire drawer of earned recrimination.
A Crown For The Sword
Her Majesty was radiant and fierce from her seat upon her throne. In the years he had known her he had seen her soft, silken beauty and her iron will both. Witnessed the shrewd, cunning of her mind. She would be a magnificent Queen he had no doubt.
Thus, he could stand solidly before her, weather the accusations aimed at him. Perhaps it would be his death, but even execution would fall so sweetly from her lips. And if her Will was for him to die, then he would take each of her enemies with him.
As was his duty as her knight.
The resolution seared into his very soul, and his gaze flicked to the visage of the man beside Her Majesty. That wretched cur. It had been his mistake to regard Lockwood as little more than a foolish and arrogant little lordling. Epithets that worm also deserved, but he had missed that he was a snake as well, one with venom in its bite.
How he would delight in his downfall.
"Sir Niklaus." He shifted slightly, his gaze switching from their surroundings to Her Highness.
She was resplendent in blue and gold, her silhouette as graceful as the blooms surrounding her. But an air of unease hung about her and in her gloved palm she cupped a withered blossom. Her fingers traced the wilted edges of the purple crocus, a slight frown on her face.*
"Does something trouble you, Your Highness?"
She said nothing for several moments, her lashes fluttering as her eyes fell shut in a faint grimace. He stepped forward before he could consciously think to, concern a tight fist in his chest.
"I am alright," she declared as he came to a stop by her side. "It is rather daft of me to be so superstitious." The flower fell from her hand as she straightened up, offering him a small smile as she turned toward him.
His own voice was solemn as he replied, though he knew his eyes were soft. "Daft? Never, Your Highness. Your intuition is as keen as your mind." He shifted slightly, reaching around to pluck a honeysuckle hanging behind her.** He moved slowly, knowing his gesture was not particularly appropriate, but she just watched him, a more genuine smile curling on her lips. He tucked the blossom behind her ear. "No matter where you lead I shall follow. I am yours, Your Highness."
His hand fell away just as hers rose to brush at the flower. The slightest trace of pink flushed across her cheeks before her expression shifted to something a bit more melancholy.
He parted his lips to say something to her, dismayed by any trace of her sorrow. But his words stuttered to a halt as her palm came up to cradle his face. The soft fabric of her glove tickled his skin as her thumb caressed his cheekbone. He could not help the way he leaned into her touch nor the way his own hand rose to cover hers.
"My loyal knight," she murmured, seeming to be talking more to herself than him. "Sometimes I wish you were a bit less devoted. For your sake."
He had not understood her words then. Stunned into silence as she retreated into the caste, he at her heels.
It had become more clear to him later when the Lockwoods and their entourage arrived. Her recent betrothed. A handsome and wealthy man, giggled the maid servants. A powerful boon to the kingdom, whispered the Court.
He had doubted any man was worthy of Her Highness and the Lockwood heir did nothing to sway his impression. But he did his duty and stood guard at Her Highness' back, prepared to arrange a tragic accident should she ever require it of him.
Thus, it was a twisting blade in his chest the first time she addressed him as "Sir Mikaelson" instead of "Sir Niklaus." Cold, distance seeped into their every interaction and drove the blade deeper each time. He thought he had failed her somehow, and it was with hurt confusion that he wondered about her occasional gentle touch. Glimpses of the past that grew increasingly foreign to him.
And then he understood. The poor page boy deserved better than to have Lockwood order a public whipping and dismissal from the castle. He agreed that Her Highness was above anyone else in the land, but not even he would take such harsh measures against a callow youth. A slight stutter and a blush from a boy not yet ten and four could be expected even, when said boy first encounters a woman such as Her Highness.
Such thoughts made his wound ache anew. Her dismissal had hurt his confirmed failure hurt him more. What a useless knight he was, that he burdened Her Highness as she acted to protect him.
"Your Highness?" He intoned as he knocked at her chamber door. Had it been so long ago that he would have stood with her beyond that door?
"Enter." Her voice was flat, missing familiar inflections.
She did not look up as he strode in, focused instead on sealing several parchments with wax and her insignia. She placed a few of them away, some in compartments of her desk and others in storage chests. The rest she bundled into a pile on her desk and at last looked up at him.
"You are far above the duties of a page." She hesitated for a split second, her fingers tracing the cooled wax of the seal, before adding, "Sir Niklaus." He jolted, hearing his name from her lips for the first time in what seemed an eternity. "And yet those are the duties I task you with this day, for I trust no other the way I trust you."
The words were a balm to his soul. At last he could once more do something useful for Her Highness.
And if he carried out her orders with perhaps inappropriate fervor no one need know.
Her voice cut through his thoughts.
"You stand accused of sedition and conspiracy. Endangerment of the lives of the citizens of the Realm. Aid to an assault on the royal family. Allegiance with those who murdered my father, His Majesty King William II. How do you answer these charges, …Lord Lockwood?"
Her Majesty turned her head only enough to aim her severe expression at the stunned lord beside her. What had been poorly concealed smugness turned quickly to shock and then outrage.
"Caroline," he spluttered ignoring the shift in the atmosphere of the room, as baleful eyes fell upon him. "What is the meaning of this?!"
Her Majesty was unfazed. "We detailed the relevant accusations quite explicitly. If you have nothing to say in your defense, then We shall move on to your sentencing."
At last he seemed to grasp that this was no jest, his expression hardening even as an entreating note entered his voice.
"Caroline…Your Majesty…surely you do not trust the word of some lowly, nameless knight over I. Your Lord. Your Betrothed."
Said nameless knight was reveling in the clot's continuous missteps.
"We find it odd that you make such claims of Our most loyal knight. It was not he who brought forth evidence against you."
Well, not directly, he thought with a well-hidden smirk.
"Come forth, Lord Augustine, what say you on this matter?"
From the crowd stepped a dark haired man. Niklaus was used to seeing him with an air of mischief and a taunting smirk not far from his face. A bit of a rogue that one. But now there was only solemnity, though a hint of disdain crossed his face when his eyes flitted over Lockwood.
"Your Majesty," he said with a proper bow and address. "After an interrogation of the Lords Salvatore a most detailed plot came to light." Lord Augustine then proceeded to outline the entire tale, and it was indeed conspiracy, even treason for some of the named parties. "Measures were taken to verify the veracity of this information. Confirming correspondence was found in the belongings of many of those outed by the Salvatores. Threatened servants came to light to whom I offered protection in return for their services on this matter."
With each word, a dark pleasure curled in his chest as he watched Lockwood become increasingly pale and panicked.
The Queen nodded. "On account of this evidence We offer probationary pardon to the involved servants and an execution order for one Lord Tyler Lockwood."
Desperate, Lockwood made to draw his sword on the Queen. Niklaus may have been several feet away from the dais, but he crossed the distance in a flash. One harsh jerk sent the still sheathed sword clattering to the floor below and a shove sent the doomed lord stumbling after it. Guards seemed to materialize out of nowhere, seizing the man's arms and forcing him to his knees.
He could feel the deadly glare on his face as he glowered at the worm's audacity. How dare he even attempt to harm Her Majesty let alone in his presence.
"We thank you, Sir Niklaus, and offer you one last order as Our loyal knight. Carry out Our execution order. Remove this threat to Our Kingdom."
"At once, Your Majesty." He stepped forward, bending slightly to heft Lockwood's sword from the ground. Without fanfare he unsheathed it, drawing the sharpened steel across Lockwood's throat. A quick sidestep allowed him to avoid the resulting blood and the guards dropped the man into the rapidly forming crimson puddle.
The Court was silent as they all bore witness to Lockwood's final moments. When the man fell still the guards returned to drag the body away. No doubt someone would remove the head and confirm his death.
Niklaus turned toward Her Majesty, kneeling before her throne. Now that the room was settled once more, he was able to process the earlier mention of the word "last."
"Sir Niklaus you have served Us with honor. You have done a great service for this Kingdom, its people, and Us. You have gone above and beyond your duty numerous times and you have earned Our favor long ago."
The Queen waved a hand, circulating a familiar parchment along with a similar letter with an unfamiliar seal.
"Sir Niklaus. Son of Esther. Son of Ansel." He felt his jaw fall open slightly, though he quickly snapped it shut with a click of his teeth.
What?
"…legitimized trueborn Prince of Varg.*** We name you King Consort. Rise, Lord Niklaus."
He did so in a daze, uncertain if his ears were deceiving him. A subtle gesture had him turning to gaze at the court. A Court that was now kneeling before him.
"All hail, Queen Caroline!" They chanted in unison.
"All hail, King Niklaus!"
Points if you caught the GoT inspiration.
*Purple Crocus represent youthful happiness; its wilting a bad omen.
**Honesuckle represent devotion and bonds of love
***Varg means wolf