Hard choices didn't stop being hard once they were made. It appeared that in some cases, for Sirius, certain decisions circled back around and got exponentially harder years after the fact. He didn't find it in himself to regret any of it, but there was nothing easy about any of what he felt at that moment.

For years he'd been able to focus on how lucky he was to have a home and family with his king. There were lords who would have given up appendages for the position he held at court. All Sirius had to give up was a family who hated him. It should have been uncomplicated.

At 15, with his head full of tales of virtuous knights and chivalry, it didn't seem like such a huge sacrifice, that he'd likely never marry. He didn't need an heir, seeing as he'd given up his title and was for all practical purposes, an unlanded knight of illegitimate birth. His only love was for King and Country. He hadn't expected any change in that regard.

If Princess Marlene had not lost her parents to the plague, she'd have been here at court with her mother, in the process of securing a husband.

If Sirius hadn't been disowned and his family hadn't been traitors, he would have been… at least worthy of consideration.

But that wasn't how things went and there he was, in the princesses' outer rooms, sword constantly at the ready to defend her, and heart thoroughly in her possession.

It hadn't been his intention, at any point, to hand it over, but he was absolutely sure it was the case. After the kiss she'd given him that morning, there was no denying it anymore. He was not Sir Galahad the Pure and he never could be.

He wondered if she knew? Did it hurt for her as well to think about the reality of it all? Or was she still just playing a game? A part of him felt she was simply using the game now for pretense. She had reached for his hand before the servants had arrived with his cot. She had claimed a fondness for him in that self-same moment. There were so many little things that made Sirius feel the Princess was no longer pretending. But a part of him hoped she was. The girl was bright, she'd certainly see the reality of the situation, and if she felt for him as he for her, he could not bear to know she was anguished by their unhappy standing. At least she would not know in another life there would have been a chance. At least she would not be haunted by his past also.

There were sounds coming from the Princess's inner chamber, calling Sirius out from his thoughts. She sounded distressed. Another nightmare, most likely. He couldn't help but feel for the slight girl. It had only been her heartbreaking screaming that had kept him from beheading Crouch on the spot. His anger had been halted by the panic in her beautiful voice and the look of terror on her perfect face. He hoped every nightmare wasn't returning her to that moment when she looked most vulnerable. The thought brought him to his knees.

He took a deep breath and let his heart lead in yet another decision. He knew it was improper, but he didn't want to leave her scared and alone. He couldn't bear the thought of her panicked; crying out as she had on the night of the attack. He stood and collected himself before making his way to her bedchamber, where she lay fitful in her sleep. Her hair had tangled around her face. Her slender body was curled in such a way that it mirrored the image he'd taken in when three nights prior she'd fallen to the floor in the Royal corridor. His heart broke for her and his feet moved of their own accord to her side.

He didn't want to cause her further alarm. He knelt by her bedside and whispered her name before reaching out and gently sweeping her hair back out of her face.

She let out one last gasp before her eyes fluttered open.

"Sirius," Her breaths were deep and a slow as she came to. Her blue eyes caught the gentle light of the moon through her window. Sirius was struck for a moment at how even in her disheveled state; her beauty was nothing short of breathtaking. His eyes traced her face as his mind tried to carve out the image into stone in his memory. Someday he would look back and remember this; the most precious sight he'd ever beheld.

"You were having a nightmare. You're safe now, Princess." Against his better judgment he leaned in close to her and kissed her brow.

He started to pull away, so as to try to salvage some semblance of propriety, when she reached out to him.

"Stay with me."

Those words in her sweet voice cut harder than any swords edge he'd ever encountered. But the look on her face was the turning of the knife in his heart. The look of a scared and timid creature was not one that should have belonged to the Princess Marlene. She was meant to be vibrant and mischievous and all the things that so perplexed him about her. But the pleading in her voice and the fear in her eyes poured lead into his feet. He couldn't deny her, so he took her into his arms and again kissed the top of her head. This war with his own heart was not one that he'd been prepared to fight…

"Just until you can go back to sleep, alright, Your Grace?" She nodded against his chest, her hands tangling in his linen shirt.

The way she fit perfectly into his arms made him question if perhaps he was the one having a dream. He focused on taking in the little details of how it felt to hold her. Her breaths were becoming slow and even. She'd held onto him tightly at first but as he lay there with her in silence, he felt her body go lax. It wasn't wise, he knew, but a part of Sirius allowed himself to think of how this could have been.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, caressing her golden waves, trying to memorize the smell of the rose water that Marlene's lady's maid washed her hair in. He knew he was there for far too long, but at the same time, it was not nearly long enough. Sirius knew this could not become a habit. He would not stain her honor, not for anything. This would be his one indulgence, his one moment to think on what life could have been if everything had been different. For his heart was hers now, and it would always be so. She would be required to marry eventually, but he would remain alone, watching as his heart was forced to move on without him. He'd never set out to be Sir Lancelot, but somehow there he was.

Eventually, he tore himself away from his own heart and got up to return to the outer chamber of the Princess's rooms, but not before laying one last kiss on the soft and perfect skin of her temple.

"Sweet dreams now, my Princess."