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“Sir Thomas Reed,” the Queen greets from her throne. “You have arrived earlier than anticipated.”  

“Yes, My Queen,” Sir Thomas acknowledges, kneeling deeply in respect before his king and queen. “I had good fortune on my journey to the castle.”  

“Very good. You may stand.”  

Sir Thomas stands once more, straightening his posture, guarded and proud.  

“I understand that your espionage had been foiled, but do not worry. We still have use for you,” she states.  

“You see, it involves our second son, Prince Jacob,” the King explains. “He needs a personal guardian by his side to watch over him. More recently, he shows signs of distress and truancy of his duties. We are working with him, but we feel that he needs more protection.”  

“I see,” Sir Thomas responds.  

“Our expectations are simple. We will inform you of where his attendance is needed on the given day. Otherwise, he is free to do as he pleases within our means. You must always stay at his side, even if he attempts to persuade you to separate yourself from him. Do not give in to his delusional behavior.”  

“To be clear,” the Queen adds, “our son shows behaviors of manipulation and deceit. He will say what is necessary to get his way. Do not allow yourself to become close to him. Do you understand?”  

“Your instructions are clear,” Sir Thomas accepts with a nod of the head. “I will remain at the prince’s side no matter the cost.”  

“Your family has always been loyal to the kingdom,” the King reminds. “Perform your duty with that in mind.”  

“It is my honor, Your Highness.”  

“You may find him in his quarters, in the west tower,” the Queen informs. “Make your way there now. We will relieve you when the time comes.”  

Sir Thomas takes a deep bow before turning on his heel, taking his leave out of the throne room.  

The knight has been in the castle many times, all for a stated purpose. He is relieved that he may continue in his role despite his disastrous failure on his previous undercover assignment in the neighboring kingdom. He won’t waste this second chance at honor, even if it may be babysitting a spoiled, bratty prince.  

Thomas has heard the rumors. He knows of the fierce Hamilton prince who acts selfishly and irrationally, always demanding things of his own desire. Many think of him as a traitor to the crown as he makes a very public fuss regarding the King and Queen’s military advancements in the other kingdoms. Although Thomas has not had the privilege of meeting the prince prior, he has no reason to believe the rumors nor deny them. This way, at least, he can salvage whatever honor he has left to serve the kingdom.  

Thomas marches up the winding stairs towards the prince’s chambers. His suit clanks and clunks as he climbs the stairs, each step revealing another and another, higher and higher up the tower.  

Once he’s met with an intricately carved wooden door, he wraps the door knocker three times.  

From within, a soft coo, almost like a dove: “You may enter.”  

Thomas pushes on the sterling handle, revealing the prince’s bedroom. The furniture is decorated with ornate carvings like the front door, with a complete set of a dresser, chest, bookcases, bed frame and end, desk with a chair, and some lounge furniture in front of the fireplace. There’s a roaring fire underneath a hearth made of stone, the rocks working their way up the wall and beyond. The curtains are drawn, dusting the room in bright, yellow light. It’s warm in here, cozy and comforting.  

A young man stands near the fireplace, resting his hand on the hearth. What rumors Thomas has heard of the prince’s bad tidings, he has heard plenty of his beauty as well. It’s true what they say when they call him the Blue Rose of the Country, the Climbing Nightshade of the Kingdom. His hair dances gracefully on the sides of his face past his shoulders, and appears nearly blue in the light, giving his namesake. His eyes are dark yet soulful underneath draping lashes, cheeks dusted with pink and lips dauntingly pursed. His lean frame sways as he holds himself, all long legs and pleasing curves; his frilled white shirt hides much of his upper body, but his deep blue trousers and black slippers accentuate his legs perfectly.  

“I-I am Sir Thomas Reed,” the knight stutters, kneeling quickly. “I have been sent by the king and queen to watch over you.”  

The prince steps curiously towards the knight. The sweet scent of lavender follows him. “I see,” he says slowly. “You’ve come to spy on me, haven’t you?”  

Sir Thomas tilts his head. “My prince?”  

“My parents have asked you to keep me locked up in here. You may stand,” the prince orders. “Would you like some tea? It’s just been brewed.”  

Sir Thomas just stares at the prince from where he stands. It’s an easy thing to do, on account of the prince’s true beauty, even though he’s not sure what step to take next.  

“My instructions were clear,” Sir Thomas informs. “I do not believe it is fitting of me to participate.”  

“Then maybe you will listen to what I have to say as you stand guard,” Prince Jacob says, rounding the lounge chair and splaying himself across it. “What my parents have told you isn’t true.”  

“I beg your pardon?” Sir Thomas inquires.  

“They call me manipulative, one who lies to get their way. They say that I am hysterical and emotional. Isn’t that right, dear knight?”  

Sir Thomas holds his tongue.  

“They just don’t understand me,” Prince Jacob admits. “They wish to be rid of me. They are ashamed of me.”  

The prince eyes the knight cautiously. “Come here, my dear knight.”  

Sir Thomas steps closer to where the prince is seated, kneeling before him.  

“You must make an oath to me that you will never repeat my words outside of our conversations, even to my mother and father. Do you swear this to me?”  

Technically, Thomas is sworn to the king and the queen. Their son does not have this rite of power over Sir Thomas. And yet, the knight feels compelled to swear his life to the prince. He is an extension of the kingdom, after all.  

“I swear this to you, my Prince,” Sir Thomas confirms.  

Pleased, Prince Jacob sighs heavily before continuing. “They’re going to marry me off to Lady Müller and send me away to live in her kingdom over the North River. I will no longer be in this territory.”  

“A marriage to the Müller kingdom may prove most fruitful,” Sir Thomas informs.  

“I don’t expect our marriage to be very fruitful,” the prince chuckles. “I hear that the Lady is fonder of the sheath than she is the sword, and I daresay that I prefer the sword myself.”  

Sir Thomas’s cheeks flush with the implication; the prince is much bolder than he could’ve imagined. His shock leaves him speechless.  

“Well, I suppose that wouldn’t be a rumor you’d hear.”  

“Actually...” the knight begins, “I have heard from Sir Aiden Brooks, a knight close to the family, that it is quite true.”  

“Is it?” the prince whispers, his eyes growing wide. “I had a feeling!”  

When the prince smiles, there’s something within Sir Thomas that stirs, something he’s never quite felt before.  

“I’m glad that the gossip amuses you,” Sir Thomas replies, though he can’t keep himself from grinning. “Is there anything within the castle that I should know of, my dear prince?”  

“If it’s gossip you wish to hear, my dear knight, then I’m afraid you’ll have to join me for tea,” the prince snickers as he stirs sugar into his cup, the silver spoon singing as it clinks against the fine china.  

While sitting and socializing with the prince is not exactly suitable for a personal knight, this is what the prince desires. One cup of tea should be harmless, at least.  

Sir Thomas rounds a chair, sitting carefully into its plush seat. His armor is terribly heavy, and though he is used to its weight, there is a small pleasure in being seated with such beautiful company.  

The prince pours the drink with his slender, perfect hands on the teapot, a large, brilliant sapphire stone adorning his index finger. The stone is deep and mysterious, but glitters handsomely in the light, much like the prince’s eyes.  

“Now, you mustn’t tell a soul this story,” the prince giggles. “Test your loyalty to me with your silence.”  

Sir Thomas takes the delicate china cup into his calloused, brutish hands. “Your word is my bond.”  

**  

Only a week passes for his new routine to become normal. The prince is easy to watch. In the morning, he has his breakfast brought to his room, then readies himself for the day. He spends much time at his desk writing correspondence on behalf of his parents and reading important papers. By noon, he takes his lunch in the courtyard. In the afternoon, he reads by the fire or out on his balcony, and by dinnertime, he eats with his mother and father. If neither king nor queen are available, he eats alone. After dinner, he returns to his desk to write or will lounge on the chair to read.  

Prince Jacob shows his true nature in many ways despite the confines of his life. He enjoys lounging in his nightwear at any chance he gets. When the other guards aren’t looking, he sneaks away to the kitchen to gossip with the bakers. There are times when he’ll be on his balcony for hours, absorbing the sun and listening to the sweet birds sing.  

And, in the evening, if Sir Thomas is so lucky, he will join Prince Jacob for simple conversation by the fireplace in his bedroom.  

“Did you read the book I lent you?” the prince asks as he pours the knight a cup of Jasmine tea.  

“Um... no,” the knight admits. “I cannot read it.”  

“Why not?” Prince Jacob asks earnestly. “Does it disinterest you?”  

“No, I... cannot read the words. They are too complex for me.”  

The metal spoon clinks in the prince’s cup. “Come now, there is no reason to be ashamed. If reading is not for you, why don’t we go out then?”  

Sir Thomas nearly chokes on his drink. “Go out?”  

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” the prince chuckles. “I meant to the inner wall. There’s something I’d like to show you. We can go tomorrow, after breakfast.”  

The more time he spends with the prince, Thomas finds, the more he finds worth protecting. He is honored by his vow to the family, but now his heart finds honor as well. It is a secret that Thomas must keep deep within, but it is one that he doesn’t mind keeping. Something has been planted within him, a seed watered by the patience and pleasantness of the prince.  

“I’ll follow you anywhere,” Sir Thomas swears.  

“Then, we have a date,” the prince teases with a smile.  

**  

“Do you journey to the inner wall often, my prince?” Sir Thomas asks, carrying the prince’s picnic basket and blanket.  

“My previous guard only allowed me to go as long as my mother approved of it, which was not very often,” the prince replies, a beaming smile lighting his cheeks. The weather is beyond pleasant, little white clouds saying hello as the cool breeze pulls them along the sunny morning sky.  

The knight follows his prince dutifully down the stone path out of the castle, onto the grounds. The prince walks slowly, absorbing his surroundings. The way the sun sings through his hair and reflects off his large, dark eyes bewitches Thomas. He’s never had the pleasure, the privilege of being next to one so beautiful inside and out. Prince Jacob has never shown cruelty, malice, or truancy. He is honest and pure in his convictions.  

For the king and queen to suggest otherwise... well, it is unfit for Sir Thomas to think such thoughts. He knows the truth about the prince, however. He doesn’t need answers to anything else.  

The pair walk down the winding path, lined with great, strong trees and bushes ripe with fruit and flowers. The smell is heavenly, sweet and fresh as they make their way further from the castle.  

The men come upon a small, secret garden at the edge of the yard. A large cherub adorns the center of a circular fountain, water trinkling calmly from the feet of the figure downward into the pool. The stones at the base and along the path are old and worn, but the flowers surrounding bring an ethereal, enchanting beauty.  

Oh, the flowers. Reds and pinks and blues of large flowers and small paint the green bushes, their scents perfuming the air along the soft breeze. Tweeting birds sing as they flutter back and forth between the fruit trees. The space is small but secluded, far away from the hustle and bustle of the castle, the cold and lonely stone of its walls.  

Here, Tom feels alive.  

“Would you care to join me?” Prince Jacob asks, holding the quilted blanket draped over the knight’s arm. “The servers always pack too many things for one person to eat. I’m afraid it will go to waste.”  

“Eating with you would be an honor,” the knight accepts, his happiness matched by the prince’s grin.  

Sir Thomas helps Prince Jacob set the blanket near the fountain between two bushes. The servants have packed breads, cheeses, meats, and olives with an assortment of jams and crackers. A bottle of sweet red wine lies among plates and silverware and glasses.  

Once they’re settled, the prince tears the loaf in half, giving the larger half to Thomas. He accepts the bread with his ungloved hand, the tips of his fingers brushing ever so slightly against Prince Jacob’s.  

The prince says nothing, looking away shyly. Perhaps it is just the sun, but the prince’s cheeks have dusted a lovely shade of pink.  

The pair eat in silence, entranced in the scene around them. It’s quiet save for the sounds of leaves rustling in the wind, the trickling of calm waters and the songs of love birds. There are no conversations or sounds of work, business of the castle. They are far away, in their own private paradise.  

Maybe it’s Thomas’s own delusion, but he swears that he catches the prince watching him eat every time he turns the other way. The prince is quick to look out towards the handsome surroundings or to the sky, but Thomas can feel his eyes once his head is turned again. If the prince had something to say, he’d say it. So then why is he looking his way, at someone who is unworthy of such a tender gaze?  

“Do you like it here?” Sir Thomas asks, fixing his gaze on the prince before His Highness looks his way.  

When the prince stares into his eyes, he stares into his heart. “I love coming here,” the prince replies. “I’m hardly allowed to leave the castle. Here, at least, I can find peace.”  

The prince’s smile slowly fades, his eyes focused deep within Thomas, into his soul. “Your eyes,” he says aloud.  

“My eyes?” Sir Thomas asks.  

“They’re beautiful, like oceans,” Prince Jacob breathes.  

“You... have seen the oceans, my prince?” the knight asks, ignoring the thump of heart within his chest.  

“No,” the prince admits. “I have read about them, and I have seen paintings of them. My brother tells me of the oceans on the east shore, where he resides with his Lady wife. One day I will visit, damned be my mother and father to protest.”  

Prince Jacob is so close, Sir Thomas can smell the sweet strawberry jam on his breath. To be this close to a man, much less one as unmatched in beauty and temperance as the prince, is enough to spin his head clean off.  

Any closer, and... and he could taste those lips...  

Sir Thomas pulls away with a friendly smile. “So,” he deflects, clearing his throat, “there are many birds here. I’ve never seen so many before in one place. They’re very musical, aren’t they?”  

“Oh, yes,” Prince Jacob admits, admiring the hopping birds as they come closer in curiosity. “I love to see them here. They are my friends. For a song, I give them a meal.”  

“Here,” the prince offers, taking Thomas’s hand in his own silk palm. The prince crushes a few crackers, feeding the crumbs into the knight’s palm. He leads the calloused, worn hand outward, holding his touch. A shy bird bounces onto the knight’s lap curiously, then onto the rim of his hand, looking in. He plucks a crumb, and then another. A second bird comes by, greedily taking from the knight’s palm.  

“How sweet!” the knight exclaims. “I’ve never seen one this close!”  

He turns to the prince excitedly, who has not been watching the birds. Instead, he has been watching the knight, but does not avert his gaze like the other times before.  

**  

Before Thomas can process the time, spring turns to summer. As the seasons change, so does the prince. He guides the knight on morning walks, strolling through the palace grounds, spending time in the secret garden. When they are there, they are unbothered. The prince bears his soul to his knight, and the knight finds himself bound. He, too, shares the secrets of his life, memories long since buried within the grounds of his mind.  

“My scar,” the knight starts, “was my own fault. I did not carry out my duty properly. My enemies gave me this wound to mock myself and the king. It is a blessing that His Highness has given me a second chance to redeem my honor.”  

“But what about yourself, dear knight?” the prince laments. “The kingdom be damned. What about you, a man?”  

Thomas never had the luxury to think of his own being before. “I hurt inside,” he confides to the prince. “I felt as if I was no one while I was locked away by my captors. I never knew if I would see the light of day again. Even now, the past haunts me.”  

Prince Jacob places a hand over Sir Thomas’s, holding it there. The simple act brings the knight great comfort, as his wound festers inside.  

“You had said once that you believe every occurrence in our lives happens for reasons beyond us, but they happen to lead us to other, better things. Do you still stand by these words?”  

“I do,” the knight admits.  

“Then, would you say, that if this is the path that you had not followed, then you would not have ended up here? In this beautiful place?” The prince studies where his hand connects with the knight’s. “I cannot change your past, dear knight, but I do wish to protect your future. I may not seem like much, but... I will protect your heart. Always.”  

Sir Thomas feels a pulse in his throat. He wishes to inch closer to the prince, to drink from his sweet well.  

Although he wishes, it cannot be granted. The prince deserves a better man, one in his own league, or at the very least, one of a stronger mind and heart.  

The prince caresses his scar and, oh, how it burns. It lights a fire in Tom’s heart, incinerating his soul.  

“I know my scars are hideous,” the knight reflects.  

“You are a handsome man despite it,” Prince Jacob coos.  

“You are mistaken.”  

The prince leans forward, closing the gap between them. His lips are softer than Thomas had ever dared to dream. He smells of lavender, fitting into the flowers around them that Thomas has had the pleasure of acquainting so well.  

The knight closes his eyes, savoring the kiss while it lasts. If he parts now, there is no guarantee that he will taste them again.  

However, it is the prince who breaks the kiss first. His smile gives promise of another.  

“Do you find me deceitful?” the prince questions, giggling.  

Sir Thomas does not.  

**  

A knight protects the prince. It is a high honor and privilege. It is a service to the kingdom and to its people.  

And as such, the prince deserves happiness. A happy prince within a happy kingdom.  

Although it pains him to be away from the prince, the knight is given the day to rest. As such, he cannot see the prince as is his daily routine at guard. Another knight is watching the prince today, a young dame with much to prove. At least His Highness will be in great company.  

Thomas leaves the palace to mingle with the castle town at the end of the hill. He rides his horse down, taking in the scenery as he follows the path. Every little wildflower in the grass makes him think of his sweet prince, probably at his desk writing or on the lounge chair reading.  

It is just for one day that they are apart.  

The town is busy with life even before the knight reaches its entrance. The people scuttle about their lives, performing daily tasks and errands, shouting and bargaining, walking along the clattering of horseshoes.  

Thomas has his own errands to run, but first, he must find something special. Out of all the things he wishes to accomplish today, this one must be finished first.  

Rounding a corner within the inner market, he spots the wooden sign hanging over the street with an image of a needle and thread. He ties his horse to the post outside before wandering in, squeezing his way through the narrow walkways. There are fabrics and ribbons and trimmings and hems galore. So many items and tools that Thomas doesn’t have the faintest clue of what they’re for. He does remember what he came to the shop for, though. A special item indeed.  

He studies the different textures of the fabrics, weaving his fingers through the laces. Everything is so beautiful, but he needs the best. He needs...  

This one. Thomas chooses the item and pays for it, the seller wrapping his item in a gift box with a pretty pink ribbon.  

As Thomas spends the day running his errands, he keeps the package with him at all times. It’s a gift. It’s important. It’s everything to him in this moment.  

The sun begins to fall from the sky, greeting the early evening. Thomas rides his horse out of the town, back down the cobblestone streets to the road winding towards the castle again. The drawbridge falls for him before he crosses it, returning safely to the palace.  

The knight tries to appear casual as he retires his horse to the stable hand, making his way towards his living quarters on the lower half of the prince’s west wing.  

Thomas double and triple checks that the door is sealed and locked behind him before sitting himself at the small table provided for him in his room. With only candlelight and the fireplace to guide his eyes, he writes a letter to his beloved.  

My shining Moon in the night sky,  

I pray you are well. Though I have only been gone a day, I have missed you for every hour, minute, and second that we have been apart. I long for your sweet words that sing to me when we visit together, your honey lips as they stick to mine.  

I hope you enjoy the gift I bring from the castle town. One day, I will grant your wish of visiting the east, where you can finally see the endless sea in all its glory. They say that the moon and the tide are connected; if that is so, then you are truly what pushes and pulls me time and time again. I eagerly await your touch, my love, for it moves me greater than tidal waves on my shore.  

You say that you love my eyes but, my darling, if I could write about your incredible gaze, then I could truly know my own heart. Until we meet again, I will at least try.  

Yours forever,  

Ocean Eyes  

Thomas folds the paper, kissing the parchment before tucking it securely into the pink ribbon of the gift box.  

The knight holds the box within his jacket as he carefully tiptoes down the hallway towards the servant’s hub. Once there, he spots the maid that delivers sheets and other linens to the prince’s room. She has always been kind to Thomas in passing, and so he prays that she’ll grant his request.  

“Gabrysia,” Thomas calls from the door.  

The young woman turns, and beams as she spots the knight.  

“Hello, Mr. Knight,” she greets as she walks closer to the door. “Did you need something?”  

“Yes,” Thomas whispers, handing the young maid the slender package. “I need this delivered to the prince’s room. It’s a surprise gift from the commoner’s market but mention it to no one. Can I trust you?”  

“A maid never tells,” Gabrysia whispers back, winking.  

With the gift delivered and out of Thomas’s hands, he returns to his bedroom to prepare for dinner. In the great hall, however, he sweats over his roasted chicken about the gift sent to the prince. The blind trust frightens him, but there’s no way he could deliver it himself without seeming suspicious. His love is precious yet fragile; any crack in their sealed secrecy could destroy them.  

Thomas stays with some of the other off-duty guards to chat with them until they’re the last ones remaining. Only then does Thomas return to his bedroom where he can worry in private.  

His room is warm from the fire, the worry over dinner draining him of any energy he has left. As Thomas undresses to ready himself for bed, he sees a piece of crisp, folded paper next to his washing bowl. Half-dressed, Thomas rushes to the washing table, where he holds the parchment in his hand. When he holds the paper to his nose, he smells the alluring scent of lavender.  

The knight carefully unfolds the paper, sitting himself on the edge of his bed as he reads.  

My darling Ocean Eyes,  

Thank you for the beautiful gift. This green ribbon matches your eyes so wonderfully; every time I look to it, I see you looking back. I’ll have you know that I will no longer wear any other ribbon in my hair. I may have jewelry and rings and garments, but nothing compares to the love I feel when I wear a piece of you.  

Sadly, I cannot send you back anything large without causing suspicion. I have enclosed for you, however, a small piece of myself in return. This chain was gifted to me by my grandmother many years ago as a child, which I have worn all my life. It is one of the most sacred things to me, and I would be forever honored if you could wear it as a symbol of my love for you.  

You say that you are my tide, being pulled by my will. But I will have you know, that, like the moon, I am bound to stay idle. If I could watch you move for all eternity, however, I would give up everything to do so. I may be the moon, but you move me, my one and only.  

I cannot bear to be apart from you for even a day. Please return to me, my love, so that I may embrace you once more.  

Forever and always,  

Your eternal Moon  

When Thomas opens the fold at the end of the letter, there’s a long, golden chain accompanied by a pressed flower. The flower is from the secret garden, pink as passion. The chain absorbs what little light is exerted by the fire, sparkling brilliantly in the night. The pendant is an intricately carved oval with images of flowers and birds, a delicately molded initial J in the center. For a charm that’s only the size of a thumbprint, it is stunningly detailed, screaming elegance.  

Thomas pulls the chain over his neck, tucking it into his nightshirt. The pendant hangs close to his heart, where Prince Jacob lives now.  

The knight keeps the pressed flower over the mantle on the fireplace, where it can watch over him through the night.  

**  

An exciting day for the palace to be sure, visitors from the western border are here to celebrate the anniversary of a decades-long treaty between the two kingdoms. As such, Prince Jacob spends the day readying himself in his room with his many servants and tailors. He had a new garment made for the day, which must be fitted last-minute. His hair is expertly curled, and his skin is perfumed and moisturized.  

The prince had mentioned during one of their afternoon visits over tea that he had been dreading the day. Though he enjoys dressing up, the attention is overwhelming. Sir Thomas stands guard outside the prince’s door, patiently waiting for his chance to see His Highness.  

Several hours after beginning, the prince appears. He is an angel sent from the heavens in his intricately embroidered chest piece and matching cloak, white ruffled shirt and starched pants. His hair curls around his face and down his shoulders, and he smells strongly of sweet pea instead of his preferred lavender. The knight knows that his prince is miserable, but... is it selfish of him to enjoy viewing Prince Jacob’s beauty in this form?  

The knight remembers his role, kneeling lowly to his prince while the servants leave the room. “Your Highness,” he greets, holding the prince’s delicate hand, kissing the back of his palm next to that glorious sapphire ring.  

“My dear knight,” the prince acknowledges, “Walk with me to the ballroom.”  

As soon as he lets go of the prince’s hand, Sir Thomas clutches his palm tight. Prince Jacob has left a note in his hand. The lovers had learned a method of communicating in plain sight. Sir Thomas keeps his fist tight until he can find an isolated area to read it.  

For the day, Sir Thomas’s silver armor is polished and cleaned, reflecting the prince’s incredible image as they walk down the hallways, the prince leading.  

He’s got a deep green ribbon perfectly tied in the back of his curls, the knight notices.  

They arrive in the ballroom, where the king and queen are waiting for them.  

“Finally,” his mother barks. “You were almost late. Everyone is waiting to enter.”  

The evening begins with guests from within the Hamilton kingdom filing neatly into the ballroom. Once settled in, the guests from the western border arrive, all blue cloaks and handsome silver adorning their heads.  

Certain procedural events are performed, such as calling the roll and announcing the reason for the festivities. Sir Thomas stands along the line of guards behind the Hamilton family, still as stone and patiently waiting.  

After what feels like an eternity, the dancing commences. Sir Thomas has never had the opportunity to participate in dancing himself, always standing on the side as the dutiful knight that he is.  

He understands that the prince loves to dance. Oh, how he’d scoop up the prince and dance with him to his heart’s content. Even now, he watches as the prince pairs with a gorgeously fitted woman from the west, presumably the Duke’s daughter. Prince Jacob smiles to her politely, but his motions are stiff and rehearsed. Sir Thomas pains to see his love’s lifeless eyes as he performs his princely duty.  

Finally, after many hours of performing his role, the King allows Sir Thomas and a few guards to move to a different area of the ballroom, switching with the other guards.  

When Sir Thomas is at his station, he ducks behind a wall briefly to finally read the message in his palm:  

Meet me in the west wing library at sundown.  

The sun is setting closer to the horizon as far out of the large glass windows. Soon.  

Sir Thomas continues to watch his love on the main floor as they continue to dance. This song is long, Sir Thomas recognizes, but he does not mind as long as Prince Jacob is in his sight.  

The sky turns from red to purple, and then darker into black as the sun goes down. The audience applauds as the song finally ends.  

When Sir Thomas tries to find the prince among the shuffling crowd, he’s gone. He must have made his escape through the commotion of changing sets on the dance floor.  

The knight glances to his left and right; to his relief, no one is watching him. Everyone is focused on the evening’s festivities. Sir Thomas slips past the nearby wall and down the narrow stairs there.  

He takes the longer way around the castle in order not to be spotted. It takes him longer than he would like, but he has finally reached the west library as instructed. Behind the door, Prince Jacob beckons him to follow quietly. The prince pushes a crease in the wall, revealing a secret passageway, which closes as soon as they squeeze through it.  

Sir Thomas chases him up the dark stairs until they reach another wall to push. Once out of the secret walkway, they arrive in the prince’s room once more.  

The prince is quick to lock his door, rushing back to his dear knight.  

The prince kisses his knight deeply, tenderly. They’ve never truly been alone like this, alone with each other.  

“I love you,” the prince gasps. “I love you more than anything in this world.”  

“And I love you,” Sir Thomas pants.  

“Please,” Prince Jacob begs in between kisses, “please take me. I cannot stand to be apart from you any longer.”  

“Your virtue--”  

“Is yours to take. Take everything from me, my love, leave nothing left but the skin over my bones.”  

Thomas has no reason to deny his prince any command. His armor proves to be difficult to remove, but he does it swiftly with the many years he’s had to adorn it.  

With the prince, however, he takes his time removing every dressing and garment, kissing his way down Jacob’s skin. The prince helps him, untying and unknotting every elaborate piece. Once he’s down to his undergarments, Thomas lays him gently across the bed.  

Jacob’s perfectly curled hair lays wildly against the mattress, his cheeks pink and body open, vulnerable.  

Thomas undresses him with care, opening his shirt and kissing the pale skin there. With every button he leaves a kiss until his shirt is open, revealing his soft, smooth skin and pink nipples. The knight unties the prince’s pants, removing them carefully, revealing that Jacob is hard and leaking. Even here, he is beautiful, too. His body is so perfect, curved and erotic, an evening bud blooming in the night, ready for plucking.  

Thomas kneels lower until he’s close enough to taste the prince’s arousal. Jacob moans low as Thomas takes him into his mouth, slowly, carefully. The prince deserves all of his love and devotion, especially here in his care. As he sets a steady rhythm, Thomas circles his finger around the prince’s hole, teasing for entry.  

“I’ve waited for you for so long,” the prince sighs, running his fingers through Thomas’s dark hair. “I’ve dreamt of this moment every night, lying awake with ache in my body.”  

Thomas spits some slick into his hand, spreading it across the prince’s twitching hole.  

“I’ve thought of you every time I touched myself in the dark,” the knight confesses, slowly working his finger in. The prince moans, high and sweet, squirming on the mattress.  

“That feels so good,” the prince whines, moving his hips to welcome the finger deeper. “Hurry, I need you now.”  

“Patience, my prince,” Thomas whispers, adding a second finger to the prince’s tight hole.  

The prince writhes underneath him, using what leverage he can find to ride Thomas’s fingers. The knight is losing his own patience, however, his member throbbing within his pants. He only relents when his fingers move in and out without resistance.  

Thomas hurries his pants off, laying his nude body above Jacob’s. His chain hangs between them, laying over Jacob’s heart.  

“I belong to you,” Jacob whispers, panting into Thomas’s mouth as they kiss.  

The knight lines himself to the prince’s hole, slicking himself with the wetness there before pushing in carefully. Jacob spreads his legs wider, holding Thomas close, wrapping his slender arms around Thomas’s strong, scarred back.  

Thomas groans deeply as he presses himself fully into Jacob, absorbing all his sounds and expressions. He’s never seen the prince this disheveled and unwound, though he selfishly is pleased that he’s the only one. He was given the incredible honor of deflowering his prince, in his own bed. The thought has Thomas jerking his hips into his beloved.  

“Oh, yes,” Jacob moans. “Please, move...”  

Thomas kisses Jacob as he makes slow love to his body. The prince is perfect, all smooth, delicate skin, as opposed to the knight’s mangled and scarred hide. His entire being is set aflame within the tight heat of Jacob, his body pushing further and further into the prince.  

“Don’t stop,” the prince pants, “I’m yours...”  

“You’re so beautiful,” Thomas groans, quickening his pace. “I can’t last much longer like this.”  

“Make me yours,” Jacob begs, touching himself quickly as Thomas ruts into him, close to his own release.  

Thomas grips the sheets, pushing himself as far into the prince as he can before he finds his release, his body pulsing as he gives himself into his lover. Jacob whines as he climaxes, spreading himself between the two, over his own fist.  

The knight releases the tension in his body, trapping the prince underneath him as he regains his composure. The prince pants, running his dry hand in soothing circles over Thomas’s back.  

A quiet, pleasant silence filled with panting continues until Jacob decides to break it.  

“Leave with me,” the prince suddenly proposes.  

Thomas jerks his head upwards to look into his love’s deep, tender eyes. “Leave?”  

“Yes,” Jacob states. “I’m leaving towards the east, into my brother’s territory. I will not be returning. Please, come with me.”  

Thomas fully sits up, studying his prince. “Jacob, you have duties to your people.”  

“But do they have duties to me? I’ve been a bird in a cage all my life. I’m ready to be set free. I know it’s much to ask of you, but if you do not come with me, then we will never see each other again.”  

“What about Lady Müller? And your marriage?”  

“If I marry her, then I would never see you again as well,” Jacob says solemnly. “You are the only thing I have ever found happiness in all my life. I promise I’ll stay with you the rest of my days. I want to bring you happiness, too.”  

Leaving with Jacob means that Thomas would never see his mother or brother again. He would be disgraced from the kingdom, a traitor to his own people.  

If he were to be disgraced, then he should be happy. At the very least, he should have a soulmate to grow old with the rest of his solitary days.  

“If I can love you the rest of my life, then I would follow you anywhere,” Thomas decides.  

**  

When he stirs in his bed, he feels his joints ache. Today is a cold day, the smell of snow drifting through the cabin.  

Thomas spoons closer to his mate, underneath the pile of animal furs on the bed.  

“My love,” Jacob moans sleepily, “your toes are cold.”  

Thomas grunts as he presses himself further into Jacob, kissing the back of his neck. “I don’t want to leave yet.”  

“The sooner you leave, the sooner I can start breakfast,” Jacob offers.  

Thomas groans, deciding to leave the warm comfort of the pelts, immediately dressing himself for the cold. The east coast is much colder than he would have ever imagined, but he’s been used to it for many years. The only difference now is that he feels the bitter cold within his joints.  

Thomas heaves himself off the bed and gathers some logs along the wall to add to the dying fire in the center of the room. He watches as the logs slowly catch, a familiar set of arms holding him from behind.  

“I love you, my precious knight,” Jacob coos, kissing the shell of Thomas’s ear.  

“I love you, my prince,” Thomas starts, then turns to embrace his lover, lifting him. “My moon, my stars, my beloved.”  

Jacob squeals, begging for Thomas to set him down again. Once he’s on the ground again, he kisses the faded scar over Thomas’s cheek. “Are you going outside?” he asks.  

“Yes. I need to check the livestock.”  

“I’ll go with you, then.”  

Jacob quickly dresses in his winter clothes and follows Thomas outside, the bitter wind striking the men. The smell of salt is all too familiar, drifting in from the waves of the shore down the rocky hill.  

Jacob stands on his rock close to the cliffside to watch the morning sun rise over the water. It’s his ritual every day, one that Thomas loves to see, knowing that he is the only one to know. The former prince’s hair is short as it’s been for many years since their disappearance from the kingdom, but his silhouette is still the same, tender man of many years ago.  

“Do you ever tire of the ocean?” Thomas chuckles, standing close. He watches the golden waves beat the shore, pelting rocks and boulders in its path.  

“Never,” Jacob breathes. “All I ever wanted was to see the ocean. Now that I’m here, I shall never leave.”  

A beat of silence between them. Thomas had always wanted to ask, had always wondered about the answer to this question for the years they’d been in hiding.  

“Do you regret leaving?” Thomas asks.  

Jacob continues to watch the sun as it rises slowly over the waves.  

“No,” he answers. “There are things I miss about my life. I miss the people in the castle. I miss some of the responsibilities I had. More than anything, I miss the garden.  

“But I have other people to care for now. I have new responsibilities. And, after the winter, the flowers bloom all around our cabin.”  

“What if we didn’t live near the ocean? What if you never saw it as long as you would have lived?”  

Jacob turns to Thomas, smiling. In the many years Thomas has had the privilege to see his lover smile, it has remained all the same. Jacob stares deep into Thomas’s eyes. The former prince holds out his hand, a green ribbon tied to his wrist. Thomas laces their fingers, like he always does.  

“As long as I have you, I’ll always have the ocean.”