Chapter Text
The King’s eyes bulge in annoyance as princess Taissa waves her hand in dismissal at yet another suitor.
“Taissa, darling,” he says, trying and failing to keep his voice level. “We have brought you the very best men from every corner of the earth. We’ve held balls for you, dinner parties, tournaments. You’ve danced with the very best and most eligible men in the land. What more can I possibly offer to entice you into a marriage?”
Taissa’s fidgets in her seat, eyes traveling across the throne room and finding a familiar flash of color in all the black and white; Van—the only female guard in Taissa’s father’s court—is standing motionless as ever, flaming red hair pulled into a tight knot at the nape of her neck, one side of her face marked with thin scars, one hand resting on the handle of her sword, eyes scanning the court for any signs of trouble. She’s pretending she can’t hear the conversation taking place between king and princess, but Taissa knows she can. She’s led countless men into this courtroom over the past six months since Taissa turned twenty, and she’s led all of them right back out. They’ve never spoken, but Taissa has noticed the way Van looks up in surprise each and every time Taissa declines a proposal. Taissa thinks it should be predictable by now, but apparently not. Van seems to be just as baffled as everybody else in the castle as to why the princess of their kingdom refuses to do the easy thing and allow herself to be married off.
The truth is, Taissa isn’t sure herself. For a while, she expected to meet a man that swept her off her feet like all the stories promised she would, but she never did. They’re all perfectly attractive, and most of them are polite and gentlemanly, but she’s no more romantically attracted to any of them as she is to a painting or a nice dress. She admires their looks from a distance, but committing herself to one of them for the rest of her life would be like stepping into one of those paintings and freezing in place in front of a beautiful landscape. A life on display, no ability to move herself if she wanted to. Eventually, she gave up on expecting to find a man that made her feel anything but confusion and trepidation.
Mostly she just stares at Van while she waits for them to leave.
“Father, I’ve told you before,” Taissa says looking back at her father, keeping her tone as measured as possible. “I have no desire to marry, and I don’t see why I should. Our power is centralized, I have no need to marry into a powerful kingdom when I’ll one day inherit my own.”
Taissa could swear she sees one corner of Van’s mouth twitch up into a smile at that, though Van quickly regains her emotionless expression.
“A husband is meant to be a partner in your greatness,” her father says desperately. “It would show the kingdom that you can collaborate, and provide heirs to further the family legacy!”
Taissa clenches her jaw to stop herself from responding impulsively.
“Alright,” her father says, with a heavy sigh. “Let’s adjourn for today. I doubt my daughter’s mood will improve, and I think we’ll all feel better after a good dinner.”
Taissa gets to her feet immediately and walks out of the throne room without looking back.
As she breaks into the hallway, she speeds up, shoes clacking on the floor as she makes a break for her bedroom.
She hears a pair of footsteps behind her and walks faster, expecting some insufferable messenger from her father telling her to prepare for dinner, but as she’s about to round a corner she hears a hastily shouted: “Princess!”
Not a man’s voice.
She turns around, breathless, finding Van staring at her from a few paces away. A few strands of red hair have fallen into her face and she brushes them back hastily.
“Forgive me, my lady,” Van says, “I… I thought you looked upset.”
Taissa straightens her posture.
“Did my father send you to speak to me?” she asks.
“No,” Van says immediately, like the very suggestion is offensive to her.
“Then why did you follow me?” Taissa asks. “I’ve left that throne room upset countless times, you’ve never followed me before.”
The question clearly catches Van off guard. She looks away from Taissa, chewing the side of her lip as she tries to think up an answer.
“I suppose it took me until now to build up the courage,” Van says eventually.
“The courage?” Taissa repeats, with a little laugh. Van’s face wilts in embarrassment and Taissa quickly adds: “I didn’t think you’d need to build up courage for anything. You’re in the royal guard. You carry a sword.”
“And you’ve scolded half the members of the guard so badly, they’re afraid to look you in the eye,” Van says. “I didn’t want to offend you.”
Taissa bites back a smile. She supposes that’s true. Though to be fair, most of the guards are considerably more annoying than Van.
“I think you’re far more courageous than I am, my lady, speaking to your father like that,” Van says, quieter. “If you don’t wish to marry, you shouldn’t.”
Taissa’s smile drops, knocked off balance by the compliment.
No one’s ever said anything like that to her.
“Sooner or later, they’ll force me,” she responds without thinking. Her biggest fear, a constant shadow over each day of her life, and she just spilled it to a stranger. She presses a hand over her mouth at the realization. “You mustn’t tell anyone I said that,” she says. “It’ll only give them ideas.”
“Consider it forgotten, my lady,” Van says.
Taissa smiles at her tentatively.
“Thank you,” she says.
Van nods at her once, then says, “Though, you should know, anyone trying to force you to do something against your will would have to contend with me first. I swore an oath to protect you, I intend to keep it.”
Taissa laughs in quiet surprise, ignoring the bloom of unexpectedly strong warmth those words send spreading through her chest and stomach.
“You would stand between me and the king?” she asks, intending it as a joke, though Van’s doesn’t laugh.
“I would, my lady,” she says instead, resting a hand on her sword handle, “if you wished me to.”
Warmth rises to Taissa’s cheeks at the word, and she looks away to take a breath, overwhelmed.
When she looks up again, Van is watching her patiently.
“You should find the courage to talk to me more often,” Taissa says.
This time, it seems, she’s taken Van by surprise. Her face, pale as the marble beneath their feet, flushes pink.
“As you wish, lady,” she says eventually. Taissa smiles at her a final time, then turns around to walk upstairs to her room.
As Taissa tries to fall asleep that night, instead of her usual worries about her father and the state of the kingdom, she finds her mind wandering to Van.
She’s terribly good looking. Like all the handsomest men they've brought to tempt Taissa, only Van wears it better; not pretty like a painting, but charmingly boyish with her tied-up hair and her freckles. Taissa always knew Van was nice to look at, but having spoken to her for the first time, she can’t stop thinking of Van’s voice, the way she looked at Taissa, and the way she said my lady.
When Taissa drifts off, she dreams of Van’s hands; long, white fingers, reaching for Taissa, the two of them sitting on the floor in the stables, hidden away, Van coaxing Taissa closer to her, looking at her with expectant eyes.
May I, my lady?
When Taissa nods, Van takes her face in both hands and kisses her sweetly, and Taissa knows somehow that she has absolutely nothing to worry about. Van is the kind of knight they write stories about. The kind of person who could protect her from anything.
When she wakes up, she’s hot all over, heart beating a little quicker than it should be.
The next day, Taissa gets up earlier than usual, skipping breakfast and strategically losing her ladies in waiting as she walks a lap around the castle. She passes plenty of guards, but none of them are who she’s looking for. She grows increasingly annoyed, walking straight out of the castle when she gets back to the place she started and into the summer heat, the train of her dress dragging behind her.
There’s a guard outside the door, and Taissa walks up to him, noticing the way he looks nervously down at his feet when she approaches and thinking smugly of Van’s confirmation that half the guards really are afraid of her.
“Your highness,” he says. “Good morning.”
“I’m looking for a guard, I think she’s off duty,” Taissa says, ignoring his greeting.
“She?” the man repeats, surprised. “You’re looking for Van?”
“I am,” Taissa says, puffing out her chest defensively. “Where can I find her?”
“Training, probably. She’s always training.”
Taissa nods, turning away from him and walking off the path and into the grass—the quickest way to the training yards.
Her father used to spend his mornings down this way, back when he was still young enough to assist with the guard’s training himself. Back when he and Taissa could actually share a conversation without him getting a pained expression on his face and asking her why she can’t just be cooperative.
She finds Van in a training pen in practice armor, swinging her sword at a dummy filled with straw. She’s not in her usual guard’s uniform—there’s chainmail covering her arms, a helmet over her face, but Taissa can tell by one stray piece of red hair coming out from under her visor that it’s Van.
Besides, she’s spent enough time staring at Van in the courtroom that she recognized the shape of her body immediately.
At that thought, Taissa’s mind flashes back to last night’s dream and she looks away from Van self-consciously, though the moment of shame isn’t enough to stop Taissa from stepping closer to the pen Van is practicing in and leaning on the fence to watch.
It takes Van ages to notice her. She seems too immersed in practicing to be aware of any of her surroundings, which Taissa thinks, bemusedly, is probably a bad quality for a knight.
When Van finally stops moving to catch her breath, taking off her helmet and shaking out her hair, Taissa takes the opportunity to call out: “Good morning!”
Van whips around to look.
“Your highness,” she says, eyes widening.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Taissa says.
“Have you been there long?” Van asks, dropping her sword.
“A little while,” Taissa says. “I would’ve said hello, but you seemed rather absorbed in your practice.”
“I’m not… accustomed to seeing other people up here, forgive me,” Van says, brow furrowing in confusion.
“You really don’t need to ask for my forgiveness as often as you do,” Taissa says.
“I’ll try to remember that, my lady,” Van says. The title sends a little thrill straight through Taissa. “Did you need me for something?” Van continues. “If you made the walk all the way up, you must’ve… had something to ask.”
“I wanted to see you, that’s all,” Taissa says.
“Me?” Van asks.
Taissa nods.
“This early in the morning?” Van asks. “You… walked here from the castle in this heat… just to see me?”
“I did,” Taissa says, slightly embarrassed by the reality of it. Clearly, Van thinks she’s strange. “Well,” Taissa adds, “to see you and to speak to you.”
“Speak to me?”
“Yes,” Taissa says. “Unless I’m disturbing you.”
“No, no,” Van says quickly. “Not disturbing, you could never disturb me.”
Taissa smiles, averting her gaze as she fights off another blush.
She braces her hands on the edge of the training pen fence and climbs up, jumping over it as gracefully as she can in a skirt and landing in the dirt with Van.
“Oh, your dress,” Van says fretfully, looking at the neatly-hemmed edge, now dusted with dried mud.
“Don’t worry, I have twenty just like it,” Taissa says.
Van eyes her doubtfully. “That dress is probably worth half my yearly salary,” she says.
Taissa opens her mouth in embarrassed realization, but can think of nothing to say. Finally she comes up with: “Forgive me. You must think I’m the most insufferable sort of royal.”
“Actually, I think you’re the most tolerable of them all,” Van says.
Taissa smiles hesitantly. Van smiles back.
“Tolerable?” Taissa repeats.
“Likable,” Van amends, sweeping her hair off the back of her neck and wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Taissa’s eyes follow the movement, thinking again of the dream.
“I’ve never met a girl like you before,” Taissa blurts out.
Van raises her eyebrows. “Neither have I,” she says.
“How do you do it?” Taissa asks, and what she means is: how are you making me feel so insane? But she clarifies: “Live like this. Like a man.”
Van shrugs, a self-conscious uncertainty crossing her face.
“I suppose when I started, I was just… waiting for someone to stop me,” she says. “But nobody did, and I just kept getting better at fighting until nobody could stop me. So here I am.”
“Do you dress in women’s clothes when you’re not in armor?” Taissa asks.
“Not if I can help it,” Van says. “Is this what you came here to ask me?”
“I suppose it is,” Taissa says, shifting her weight. “I just… never knew there were… Well, I’ve never met somebody who wasn’t afraid of what other people thought about them, that’s all.”
Van scoffs. “I’m plenty afraid of what people think,” she says. “Why do you think I spend every morning training until I can’t anymore?”
“I thought it was to protect your princess,” Taissa says.
Van’s eyes widen a little, not catching Taissa’s sarcasm. “Yes, my lady, of course—“
“Don’t worry,” Taissa says. “That was a joke.”
“Oh,” Van says, exhaling in relief. “Hard to tell with you.”
A moment’s silence falls, and Taissa becomes suddenly terrified that Van will think the conversation is over, and go back to training.
“Would you like to have breakfast with me?” Taissa says, and then adds: “That’s not a joke.”
Van’s expression darkens, and Taissa panics internally. Did she say the wrong thing?
“It’s better if I don’t,” Van says. “I’m not exactly well-liked around here.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Taissa says. “You’d be with me.”
“Princess,” Van says, looking down in what appears to be embarrassment. “I don’t like… people talking about me. Forgive me, but if I stepped foot in your dining hall, all your ladies in waiting would whisper about me behind their hands, and I wouldn’t be able to stand it.”
“Oh,” Taissa says, hiding her disappointment as best she can. “Well, you don’t need to ask for forgiveness for that. It’s completely understandable.”
“But,” Van says, looking up again. “I could walk you back to the castle if you’d like?”
Taissa smiles. “Yes,” she says. “Yes, I would like that.”
“Great,” Van says, with a smile of her own. A smile that makes something low in Taissa’s stomach stir. “I’ll just get this armor off and put the sword away.”
Van inclines her head toward the armory fifteen feet from them.
“Oh,” Taissa says, and in a burst of confidence, and a desire to keep Van close says: “Mind if I follow you? I’d rather not spend too much time in the sun.”
Van’s brows raise in surprise, but she nods.
“If you like,” she says, gathering up her things and preparing to leave. “You know, I thought seeing me practice might… scare you off.”
“Scare me off?” Taissa says. “No, I would never be afraid of you.”
Van smiles at her, walking toward the edge of the training pen. Taissa follows her.
"Most girls think it's strange," Van says. "They think I'm strange. Violent."
"I think you're extraordinary," Taissa says.
Van looks away from her, not responding to that.
When they reach the fence, Van climbs over first, then holds her arms out for Taissa.
“Let me help you, princess,” she says, and then pauses. Taissa realizes she’s waiting for permission.
“Yes,” Taissa says, nodding. Van places her hands on either side of Taissa’s waist, lifting her effortlessly over the low fence and setting her back down on the ground.
When Taissa lands, their faces are very close together. Van releases her waist, stepping quickly backward.
“Thank you,” Taissa says.
Van nods quickly, turning around and walking toward the armory. Taissa jogs a step to catch up.
“So what should I call you?” Taissa asks.
Van looks over her shoulder, puzzled.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, the male guards are all sirs. Is it the same for you? Sir Van?”
Van smiles at that.
“I don’t know, princess,” she says. “No one’s ever asked me that before.”
“I could call you my lady if you prefer it,” Taissa says.
“Why don’t you just call me by my name?” Van says, amused, waiting for Taissa to catch up with her so they can walk next to each other.
“If you prefer it,” Taissa says.
“I do,” Van says.
In the armory, Taissa follows Van into a small, straw-smelling room with wooden trunks containing each knight’s belongings. Van sets down her helmet and her sword, twisting one of her arms up into a frankly unnatural position to undo one shoulder strap of her armor.
After freezing in place for a moment, Taissa crosses to where Van is standing and bats Van’s hand away from the shoulder strap, suppressing a smile at the frightened look Van gives her in return.
“Let me help you,” Taissa says, by way of explanation, bringing her own hand to the strap of the armor and beginning to undo the buckle. “Shouldn’t you have a squire for this?”
“No,” Van says, eyes moving quickly between Taissa’s hands and her face, like she’s afraid she’s being tricked somehow. “No, you actually have to be a knight to get a squire. I’m just a guard.”
“You’re not a knight?” Taissa says.
“Not a knight, just a girl with a sword,” Van says, with a resigned expression on her face.
Taissa frowns, but says nothing more on the subject.
Van’s buckle comes undone, and Taissa carefully removes the shoulder plate of Van’s armor, moving to the other side. When she gets the other shoulder piece off, Van lifts her arm and rolls her shoulder out, wincing.
“Are you hurt?” Taissa asks.
“I’m fine,” Van says, but she brings her other hand up to massage the side of her neck, long fingers pressing into the muscle there.
“You shouldn’t lie to your future queen,” Taissa says, annoyed. “You are hurt. Tell me what happened.”
Van scoffs nervously. “Nothing happened,” she says. “Just, um…” she pauses, looking down. “Some of the guys like to fuck with me a little during training, that’s all.”
Taissa narrows her eyes. “What do you mean?” she says. “They hurt you?”
“They know I’m a better fighter than them, it makes them crazy,” she says. “They just like to remind me they’re bigger and stronger sometimes, you know?”
“No,” Taissa says. “No, I do not know. Who did this? I’ll have them disciplined at once.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Van says, leaning back against her trunk and looking up at Taissa. “The last thing I need is them thinking I went running to the princess for help. Any shred of respect they might’ve had for me would just—” she snaps her fingers in front of her face “—disappear.”
Taissa presses her lips together in frustration for a second.
“At least tell me you hit them back,” she says eventually.
Van grins roguishly.
“Oh, obviously,” she says. “I can stand up for myself, believe it or not.”
“Oh, I do believe it,” Taissa says, quieter. “I think you’re better than all the knights in this kingdom put together.”
Van’s grin fades once she realizes Taissa isn’t joking, and suddenly Taissa wishes she could snatch the words out of the air and take it back; it was way too much. Van must think she’s insane.
“I’m… really not,” Van says eventually, eyes helplessly fixed on Taissa’s. “I’m just… a runt guard who’s lucky to have a job.”
“You’re the only one of all the people who are supposed to protect me who’s ever bothered to actually speak to me,” Taissa says. “You’re the best guard we have.”
Van breathes out a startled laugh; quiet surprise.
“Thank you, princess,” she says.
“At least let me see where they hit you,” Taissa says. “Maybe I can help.”
She sees Van’s throat move as she swallows.
“It’s just a bruise,” Van says, but she grabs the edges of her tunic anyway, pulling it over her head and dropping it at their feet. Now the only thing covering her is a roll of cloth binding her chest, wrapped in layers around her chest, down to the bottom of her ribcage.
Taissa’s eyes gravitate toward the angry bruise forming in the curve between Van’s neck and her shoulder, but she finds herself looking lower too, unable to stop herself. Cream-white skin, lightly freckled from the sun; the place where her collarbones form a little hollow at the bottom of her throat, the outline of her breasts beneath the cloth.
There’s a vein on the inside of Van’s bicep, the muscles standing out even more than usual from her training session. Taissa takes a careful deep breath, resisting the urge to reach out and trace the vein with the tip of one finger. This close up, she can smell Van’s sweat, and it’s filling her head up with foolish thoughts. Thoughts of Van’s hands, perfectly sculpted arms, taking her by the waist like she did outside and pressing her up against the wall, half grace and half brutish strength, just like when she was practicing her swordwork.
Taissa really wants nothing more than to grab one end of the cloth around Van’s chest and unwrap it like a gift.
She pushes the thoughts away, bringing up one hand to gingerly touch the bruise on Van’s shoulder. Van winces, flinching back and then, embarrassed, muttering: “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, it must hurt so much,” Taissa murmurs, running her fingers as lightly as she can over the purpling skin, swollen and hot from the injury.
“It’s fine,” Van says, not sounding very convincing.
“Can’t you get something to treat it?” Taissa asks. “When I bruise myself, the healers bring me this disgusting poultice.”
“I’m not a princess, my lady,” Van says. “We can’t all have healers at our beck and call.”
Taissa considers this.
“Are you on patrol tonight?” Taissa asks.
Van shakes her head slowly. “Morning shift. I have the night off.”
“Then where will you be tonight?” Taissa asks. “Where is it you stay when you’re not in the castle?”
Van narrows her eyes. “I rent a room with the chefs behind the kitchens,” she says. “Safer than staying with the men.”
Taissa nods decisively.
“Why do you want to know where I sleep?” Van asks.
“So I can find you tonight, obviously,” Taissa says, lowering herself to pick up Van’s shirt from the floor. She brushes it off, mostly as an excuse to hold it in her hands for a little longer. It’s slightly damp with sweat, rough cotton. She holds it out to Van, who takes it warily and pulls it back over her head, untucking her hair from the back of the shirt and messing it up with one hand so it falls around her shoulders in a wild tumble of red.
She looks up at Taissa again, and Tai could swear her cheeks are a bit more flushed than they were a minute ago.
“Why would you want to find me tonight?” Van asks.
“To help you with that bruise,” Taissa says quickly. “I’ll come back with medicine.”
“Oh, you really don’t have to do that,” Van says.
“I know that,” Taissa says. “I’m royalty—the only things I have to do are get married and die.”
Van scoffs. “Well that’s dark,” she says.
“I’ll see you tonight,” Taissa says. “Now, are you going to walk me back to the castle or not?”
Van straightens up, shoving her things quickly into her trunk and closing it, turning to lead Taissa out of the armory. Taissa watches Van walk back out into the sunlight and thinks about all the stupid ways she could ruin whatever tentative friendship they’ve struck up. She imagines herself saying I dreamt of you last night. Let’s not go back quite yet. She imagines herself grabbing Van by one pale, soft-looking wrist and tugging her back inside.
“Any more suitors today?” Van asks as Taissa and her walk back toward the castle.
“Thankfully none,” Taissa says. “I think they’re restrategizing. I know my father sends spies; ladies into my court to try to figure out what I’m holding out for. He thinks I’m bluffing when I say I’ll never marry, but I’m not.”
Van looks sideways at Taissa, squinting in the sunlight.
“Do you think you’ll ever fall in love?” Van asks.
“I just told you I’m serious about not marrying,” Taissa says.
“I didn’t ask you about getting married, princess, I asked if you intend to fall in love,” Van says.
Taissa frowns. “It’s the same thing, isn’t it?” she asks.
Van smiles, like she knows something Taissa doesn’t.
“No, my lady,” she says. “No, for some of us, it’s very different.”
“Have you ever been in love?” Taissa asks.
Van looks away from her, hair catching the faintest gust of wind and blowing out behind her into a little ripple of red and gold.
“No, princess,” Van says.
“Do you think you’d like to be?” Taissa asks. “One day?”
Van meets her eyes again, the barest hint of a smile remaining on her lips.
“Yes, princess, I think I would.”
When they reach the entrance to the castle, Van pauses on the threshold.
“Thank you for walking me back,” Taissa says. “And… thank you for the company. I don’t often get to speak to people like this.”
“Anything for you, princess,” Van says, and bows to Taissa, looking up at her expectantly. Mostly out of habit (too many balls spent introducing herself to revolting men) Taissa extends a hand. Van takes it, pressing a lingering kiss to Taissa’s knuckles.
Taissa's entire body seems to ignite at the sensation.
Van straightens up far too quickly for Taissa’s taste, tongue darting out to run across her bottom lip as she turns around and walks back in the direction she came.
“Oh, come quickly!” Taissa says, from the floor of her bed chamber, holding her leg. “I’ve fallen!”
Two ladies in waiting run through the door with twin expressions of panic on their faces.
“Oh, thank heavens you’re here,” Taissa says. “Call the healer straightaway. Tell him I’ve bruised my leg.”
When the ladies leave her room she drops the act, rubbing the sore spot on her leg where she banged it against her bedframe and waiting for the healer to come back with a remedy.
“Van?” Taissa whispers, tapping one finger against the wooden door that leads to the spare room in the chefs’ quarters.”Van are you in there?”
It’s just past midnight. Taissa has no excuse to be out of bed, she’s dressed in her nightgown, barefoot, with only a single candle to light her way. She snuck past the guards in her rooms to get down here, and she’s fairly certain she’s on borrowed time before someone discovers her standing out here and asks questions she’d rather not answer.
Miraculously, the door opens, and Van appears behind it. She’s dressed in the same tunic she was wearing earlier, but her hair is pulled back from her face in a braid now and her legs are bare save for a pair of shorts she must wear under her usual uniform.
“Princess?” Van says uncertainly.
“I told you I’d be here,” Taissa says. “May I come in?”
Van nods, stepping aside and letting Taissa walk into her room and set down her candle.
It’s small and mostly bare. The bed is neatly made, there are a few candles burning, but other than that, there are no real indications of a personality, and no signs of comfort. It’s a far cry from Taissa’s lavishly furnished bedroom.
Van closes the door behind them, leaning against it.
“I brought you something,” Taissa says, pulling the bruise remedy the healer gave her from a pocket in her skirt and holding it up for Van to see. “For your bruise."
“How did you get it?” Van asks doubtfully. “You’re not hurt.”
“I asked for it,” Taissa says. It’s partially true. “I’m the only princess in the kingdom, I tend to get what I want. Sit down, I’ll help you put it on. In the morning, the bruise will be gone.”
Van hesitates, but seeming to remember that Taissa is in fact the princess, she crosses to sit down on the edge of her bed with no further protest.
Taissa sits next to her.
“You’ll, um, you’ll need to take your shirt off again,” Taissa says.
She’s not completely sure what she’s doing, though she knows deep down that this is about far more than healing Van’s bruise. It’s just… Taissa isn’t afforded opportunities to want things very often. And she can feel now, very strongly, that she wants Van’s shirt off. Taissa wants to get as close to her as possible. She wants Van to kiss her like she did in the dream.
Van does as she’s told. She pulls the shirt over her head with her good arm, left in the same wrapping underneath that she was wearing before, only this time she doesn’t smell of sweat—she smells clean and safe, like bedsheets at night. Her muscles look softer. Her bruise has gotten darker since the last time Taissa saw it.
Taissa carefully unscrews the jar of poultice they gave her and dips two of her fingers in, rubbing it over the center of Van’s bruise before she can think too much about it.
Van winces at the contact, inhaling sharply.
“It’ll feel better in a moment,” Taissa promises.
“No, it doesn’t hurt,” Van says. “It’s just cold. Your hands are cold.”
“Oh,” Taissa says.
“I think I’ll survive it,” Van says, with a quiet smile as Taissa rubs circles over her shoulder, covering the bruise with the clear, yellowish gel the healer gave her.
Up this close, Taissa can see Van’s scars more clearly than she ever has before. The deepest of them runs along her left cheek, curving over her cheekbone. Another cuts through her eyebrow, and a third runs down her forehead.
“You can ask about them, if you like,” Van says, clearly catching Taissa staring. “The scars.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to—” Taissa begins.
“It’s alright, princess,” Van says. “They’re hard to miss, I know.”
Taissa’s fingers glide from the curve of Van’s neck down to the slope of her shoulder and back up, stealing as much contact as she can.
“I suppose I always… just assumed you got them in battle,” Taissa says.
“Always?” Van repeats quizzically. “Have you been wondering for long? You could’ve asked me, princess.”
Taissa bites her lip, embarrassed.
“Not long,” she says. “I’ve just always thought they made you look rather… dangerous. Most of the guards here would have no idea what to do in a fight. You look like you could actually win one. It was a comforting thought when they brought in men I didn’t trust.”
“I didn’t get them winning a fight, princess, I got them after I lost one,” Van says.
“You mean someone…” Taissa begins, trailing off.
“Wanted me to remember,” Van fills in. “He wanted to make sure I wouldn’t forget losing to him.”
“That’s horrible, Van,” Taissa says.
“It’s alright, princess, they healed well enough,” Van says, with a fond smile. “You worry about me far too much.”
“You don’t have to call me princess every time you speak to me, you know,” Taissa says. “You can call me by my name.”
“As you wish, princess,” Van says.
Taissa feels herself flushing, fingers going still on Van’s shoulder. The bruise has been treated. She has no excuse to keep touching her, so she draws her hand back. Van watches her do it.
“It’ll be better when you wake up,” Taissa says.
“It’s better already,” Van says, and a stillness falls between them.
Taissa makes no motion to get up. Van shifts on the bed to face her, and it makes Taissa’s heart leap into her throat.
She didn’t know she could feel anything this deeply anymore; didn’t know she could want someone as much as she wants Van.
“You’ve been far too kind to me, princess,” Van says. “I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”
“Oh, but you do take care of me,” Taissa says.
“I do?”
“Yes. If you hadn’t followed me out of the throne room yesterday, I probably would’ve spent the night crying myself to sleep, and all day today walking around the castle with people I can’t stand, waiting to be alone so I could cry some more.”
“Oh,” Van says softly.
“I just mean, today was the best day I’ve had in a long time,” Taissa says.
“Walking around in the heat with me, getting dirt on your gown?” Van asks.
“Yes,” Taissa says helplessly.
“Well, princess,” Van says, “I’m glad I could be of service.”
Taissa swallows.
“I told you, you can call me by my name,” Taissa says.
Van looks away from her, down at her hands.
“Forgive me, my lady. I’m not used to talking to royalty.” she says carefully, then, looking up at Taissa uncertainly: “I don’t know the rules.”
“There are no rules,” Taissa says. “You just… do what I tell you. And I’m telling you to call me by my first name.”
“Yes, Taissa,” Van breathes.
It makes Taissa shiver.
“You should know,” Van says, leaning in a little closer to her. “Today has been the best day I’ve had in some time as well.”
“Do you think—” Taissa says, almost in a whisper, “—perhaps the two of us are alike in some way?”
“Alike?” Van repeats, voice low and smooth like lamp oil, ready to ignite.
Taissa chews the corner of her lip, trying to think of what to say. Van watches her closely
“Does everyone feel strange around you?” Taissa asks, close to desperate. “Do you make everyone… lose themselves? Or only me?”
“Do you feel like you’re losing yourself, Taissa?” Van asks, in that same low, careful tone.
“I feel…” Taissa says, but trails off as she stares at Van’s lips, speaking her name without anger or annoyance or disappointment, but with patient fondness.
She leans forward and kisses Van without speaking another word.
Van stiffens, inhaling sharply, posture straightening in surprise.
Taissa pulls back. Van’s expression is all shock.
“Forgive me,” Taissa breathes, looking at Van with wide, frightened eyes.
“Oh, princess,” Van says, taking Taissa’s waist in both hands and kissing her again.
Van's lips are insistent, but gentle too. Taissa always imagined her first kiss would involve an overly-forceful man, jamming his face against hers. Instead, Van lets Taissa lean into her, offering herself with no expectation, letting Taissa pull her closer.
She’s impossibly warm; warm hands, warm lips, Taissa can feel warmth radiating off of every exposed inch of Van’s skin. She runs one hand over the side of Van’s arm, up to her uninjured shoulder.
Van’s lips part against Taissa’s, and Taissa opens her mouth on instinct. As she feels Van lick into her mouth, she moans in overwhelmed appreciation, leaning in closer to her.
“Princess, wait a moment,” Van says, pulling back, face flushed a deep red.
Taissa licks any remnants of Van’s tongue off her lips, pulling her hands back, heart racing.
“Was that alright?” Taissa breathes, almost too afraid of what the answer might be to ask, but still desperate to know.
“Yes,” Van says. “But I… you must understand how much trouble I would be in, we would both be in, if this got out—”
“I won’t tell anyone, no one will know,” Taissa says immediately.
Van searches her face, like she’s desperate to believe Taissa is telling the truth. She must find something in Taissa’s expression that satisfies her, because she kisses her again, deeper this time, returning her hands to Taissa’s waist and pulling her in closer.
Taissa leans against Van’s chest, bringing her fingers to thread through Van’s hair, loosening her braid. The thin cotton of her nightgown does little to create a barrier between her and Van—she can feel the rough linen of the wrap around Van’s chest rubbing against her skin, not unpleasantly.
She pulls her mouth back an inch or two from Van’s, feeling Van’s cool breath against her lips.
“Have you done this before?” Taissa asks. “With another woman?”
“Yes, princess,” Van says, and her voice is far less controlled than it was a few moments ago. “Only other women.”
“How did you find out you could?” Taissa asks. “I never knew it could be this way.”
“I don’t know,” Van says. “I just… knew I wanted to. People showed me, I learned.”
“Will you show me?” Taissa asks.
Van breathes out slowly, tilting her head back, shutting her eyes.
“Are you certain, m’lady?” Van asks, looking back at Taissa.
“I’ve never been so certain of anything in my life,” Taissa says. “I’ve spent the past year being sized up like a cut of meat by half the men in the land. You… you look at me differently.”
“How do I look at you, princess?” Van asks, hands squeezing Taissa’s waist lightly.
Taissa shakes her head, trying to think, distracted by the freckles dusted across Van’s nose.
“As if… as if you really see me,” Taissa says. “As if you really want me. ”
“I do, Taissa,” Van says. “I have. For many months now.”
“So take me,” Taissa breathes.
At those words, something in Van’s expression shifts from uncertainty into what can only be described as hunger.
Taissa sees Van’s throat move as she swallows.
“As you wish,” Van murmurs, and then kisses Taissa again, her hands simultaneously coming up to the place where the front of Taissa’s night dress is tied in a bow and tugging at the lacings.
When it comes undone, Van’s hands come to Taissa’s shoulders, pushing the sleeves off on either side, dragging the material slowly down Taissa’s arms until she takes the hint and pulls her hands free of them. Van pulls their lips apart, eyes traveling over Taissa’s now-bare chest. Her pupils are nearly black, lips slightly parted.
“You know, they tell stories of your beauty all over the world,” Van says, leaning in and pressing her lips to the space between Taissa’s breasts. Taissa exhales a soft sound at the feeling. Van opens her mouth and kisses again, tongue flicking over the skin.
“Have you been- oh, have you been asking people for stories of my beauty?” Taissa says.
“No, princess,” Van says, words spoken against Taissa's skin. “No, just heard them in passing. I’ve been staring at you and imagining your beauty.”
Taissa leans back on the bed, bracing on her elbows, looking up at Van expectantly. Van smiles in amused surprise, crawling up top of her and kissing her lips again, one hand coming up and lightly palming one breast.
“You’re better than they said,” Van says softly, kissing the side of Taissa’s jaw. “Better than I imagined.” Another kiss, lower on her neck. She trails her lips down until she reaches her chest again, closing her lips around the nipple not covered by her hand and swirling her tongue.
Taissa moans. Van looks up at her.
“Forgive me, princess, but if you make noise like that, someone will hear,” she says.
Taissa nods quickly in agreement and Van smiles, returning her tongue to its previous task. Taissa turns her head, pressing the side of her face into the mattress to stay quiet as Van switches to the other breast, one hand wrapping around the side of Taissa’s rib cage, sliding slowly up to cup one side of her chest while her tongue spreads fire across Taissa’s skin.
Her hands are rough from training, but there’s an intoxicating delicacy to the way she touches—a kind of reverence, slow and sweet.
“Van,” Taissa breathes.
“Princess?” Van says, looking up expectantly, waiting for orders, lips shining.
“More,” Taissa says. “Use your hands.”
“Yes, m’lady,” Van says, hazy-eyed, with perfect knights’ obedience, as if Tai just ordered her to go out on patrol.
She sits back on her heels, considering their position for a moment before taking Taissa’s waist in her hands again and moving her up on the bed a few feet, so her head rests on Van’s single pillow.
Van moves to kneel on the mattress between Taissa’s legs, holding eye contact with her as she fits her hands under each of Taissa’s knees, positioning her with her legs tented, the skirt of her nightdress spreading out between them like a barrier of translucent white.
Van starts at Taissa’s ankles, taking the hem of Taissa’s skirt in her hands and dragging the material slowly up her legs. The feeling of the cotton sliding over her skin gives Taissa goosebumps, and she holds her breath as Van pushes it up her thighs, finally dropping it and letting the material pool at Taissa’s waist with the top half of the nightdress. Her eyes fix between Taissa’s legs.
“Forgive me,” Van murmurs, barely audible. “I just… just want to look for a moment.”
Taissa holds her breath, watching Van’s cheeks slowly color in a deep red as she stares between Taissa’s legs.
When it’s too much to stand, Taissa pushes up on her elbows again, reaching out and looping one finger under the place where the cotton wrapped around Van’s chest is tucked. Van looks up at her in surprise.
“May I? Please?" Taissa asks, and her voice sounds strained to her own ears. "I want to look too."
Van pauses for a moment, but then nods.
Taissa sits up the rest of the way, beginning to unwind Van’s bindings, passing the end of the wrapping from one hand to another until it falls away. Van immediately inhales deeply. Taissa looks down at her chest; at the faint red marks where the fabric dug into her skin, and lower, the pale expanse of her chest.
“Lay down, princess,” Van says, after a few seconds.
Taissa does as she’s told, and Van hovers above her, kissing her again, open mouthed, and trailing one hand down the plane of Taissa’s stomach until her first two fingers slide into the wetness at Taissa’s center. Taissa gasps into Van’s mouth, and Van swallows the sound with a kiss, moving her fingers in slow, tortuous circles.
Taissa arches her back, pressing her chest into Van’s, feeling her already-over sensitive nipples sliding against Van’s, and letting the feeling of it overwhelm her.
“Van,” she breathes, sound muffled against Van’s lips. Van abandons her slow circles, moving her fingers more purposefully in a way that makes urgent sensation collect in Taissa’s stomach.
Van pulls her mouth away from Taissa’s. “Princess,” she says, then presses a few impatient kisses to Taissa’s neck as she waits for an answer.
Taissa hums in response.
“Can I use my mouth?” Van asks.
Taissa’s breath catches.
“Yes,” she says.
Van smiles, then pulls away from Taissa’s lips to climb down her body, settling between her legs and pulling Taissa’s thighs over her shoulders so she can bury her face at Taissa’s center, swiping her tongue in a way that makes Taissa let out a badly restrained moan, but Van is moaning too—she can feel it. Van’s hands squeeze Taissa’s thighs, eating her ravenously, and through the fog of lust clouding her brain, Taissa considers the way Van obsessively works to perfect her sword work every morning, and wonders whether she’s practiced this with the same dedication.
“Van,” Taissa says, close to the edge. Seeming to understand, Van coaxes Taissa over with the tip of her tongue, and Taissa presses her hand over her face to stop herself from crying out, hips rocking involuntarily against Van’s face.
When she comes down from the high, she looks up, breathless and a little embarrassed. Van meets her eyes, mouth still open, breathing heavily.
“Should I— would you like to go again, princess?” Van asks.
Taissa blinks in surprise.
“Can we?” she asks.
“As many times as you like,” Van says, inhaling deeply before bringing her mouth back down. Taissa’s hips twitch at the feeling, over sensitive, but Van gently pins Taissa’s hip to the bed, kissing the inside of her thigh, and the crease of her hip, before resuming the ministrations of her tongue, softer this time. Taissa eases back into the sensation, sighing in satisfaction and rolling her hips up against Van’s face more intentionally this time.
When she finishes the second time, she pulls Van up from between her legs, back above her like she was before. Taissa sits up so Van is straddling her lap.
“You’re very good at that,” Taissa says.
“Thank you, princess,” Van says.
“Are you…” Taissa begins. “Shouldn’t I do something for you?”
Van smiles, shaking her head slowly.
“It’s my honor and privilege to serve the crown, princess,” Van says. “I’d rather spend the rest of the night hearing those pretty noises you make when you’re trying to be quiet.”
“You’re insatiable,” Taissa says, but Van's words send a weak pulse of sensation straight between her legs anyway.
“I like the way you taste,” Van says.
Taissa considers this, eyes dropping to the wetness smeared across Van’s lips and chin. She leans in and kisses Van, tasting herself. Van’s mouth drops open in surprised pleasure and Taissa takes the opportunity to lick herself off of Van’s tongue, which makes Van whimper intoxicatingly.
When she pulls back, Van is staring at her even more hungrily than before.
“May I, just once more, Taissa?"
Taissa feels herself nodding. “Once more.”
Taissa sneaks back to her room without trouble a few hours before sunrise (the guards stationed outside her room have a habit of falling asleep around midnight) and collapses onto her mattress, sighing in contentment and thinking only of Van