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Felix Fathom was the leader of the Black Cats, the personal guard of the Royal Family of Ephonia. As such, he was skilled in the warrior arts as well as tactics and their lesser spoken of cousins, craft and guile. Whether it was on the battlefield or in the ballroom, Felix was no stranger to stratagem and conspiracy - the hidden poisoners that hunted every person of noble birth.
He had seen many battles before joining the Black Cats’ elite ranks and afterwards had helped stop three kidnapping attempts made on Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess Marinette - one of which had been successful. Being the one who found and rescued the Crown Princess had brought him to the King’s notice. Felix had even helped foil an assassination plot against the King himself which had led to a nasty scar along his jaw and a promotion by the Crown to the position of Lord Knight Commander - or, as his men were apt to call him, Chat Noir.
That had been four years ago now and His Majesty had passed on to his reward last month - by ill health, not an assassin’s blade - leaving behind a grieving queen and one heartbroken princess.
Felix adjusted his black velvet armband before stepping out of his quarters. He couldn’t help feeling uneasy at the subdued mood that had fallen over the palace in recent weeks. Guards spoke in hushed tones, the servants kept their gossip to whispers, and there was no laughter or music to be heard anywhere on the palace grounds. Even the birds seemed to have fallen silent in respect for grief.
He made his way along the north corridor until he stopped in front of the Queen’s chambers and asked the guard he had stationed there - Malcom - to ask if Her Majesty would permit him entry.
Queen Sabine, who was devastated at the lost of her husband, had closed herself away in her rooms to grieve in private. Felix checked on her every day, but all his sovereign gave him were whispered requests for information, a glimpse of a face as white as bone, and the keenest silver eyes in the world red and swollen from weeping.
Today was no different. He was given permission to enter, swallowing hard at the sight of his Queen in mourning garb with her eyes dry, but red-rimmed and deeply shadowed.
Felix winced internally. “If I didn’t feel it was my duty to keep checking on her, then I wouldn’t dare disturb Her Majesty. But she needs to be reminded of outside affairs… and her daughter.”
“Good Morning, Sir Felix,” she said, her soft voice lacking the strength and character it had carried not long ago. Queen Sabine had once been able to quell a roomful of arguing nobles with nothing but six words. Now she just sounded broken. “I take it all is well?”
He bowed before taking a step further into her room. “There have been no stirrings of discontent or danger, Your Majesty,” he said, standing tall. “But there have been several messengers from neighboring kingdoms and principalities that are asking how you intend to proceed.”
“And what did you tell them?”
He pursed his lips in distaste. “The more honorable ones left gifts as well as messages of support and condolences. Those less so have been provided an escort to the border.”
Her Majesty’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “I hope you were tactful, Sir Felix.”
“Of course, my Queen. I just implied that it would be better if certain parties left the business of succession in Ephonia to those most concerned.”
“That and my men gave them an honor escort, but their swords were drawn the whole time,” he thought with grim satisfaction. “Duke Agreste has no call to question Her Majesty’s or the Princess’ competence. Not while I live and breathe!”
“And Princess Marinette? How is she faring through all this?”
Felix sighed. “Not well. If I may be so bold, Your Majesty, she misses you and would take great comfort in sharing meals with you again.”
Again, those pale lips twitched. “She has told you this?”
Felix felt sweat start to prickle under his black tunic. “Pardon me for speaking out of turn, Your Majesty, but I believe anyone could see how listless and careworn Her Highness has become in recent weeks. Surely spending time together would help soothe the pain you both share.”
Queen Sabine sighed wistfully “I wonder, Sir Felix, have you ever had the occasion to observe the shape and color of my daughter’s eyes?”
Felix swallowed. While he was not an artist or a poet to openly wax lyrical about the shape of a woman’s eyes, he could not deny being painfully aware of the color of one woman’s in particular.
Princess Marinette was as lithe as a fairy with long flowing black hair that glinted like a deep blue in the sunlight. Her complexion was cream and roses, her lips tinted like summer strawberries, and her eyes…
When Felix had rescued Princess Marinette from her kidnappers, he had been fueled by fear and battle rage. Taking down any who barred his path to his charge, he fought his way through the bandits lair but when he had finally found her, cutting her free from the filthy ropes that bound her, the princess had thrown herself into his arms.
Without thinking, his entire being flooded with relief, he had forgot himself and held her close despite the blood that stained his armor and cloak from a dozen small wounds.
To this day, that moment was forever burned into his memory, branded on his heart with bittersweet pain.
The princess had trembled, yes, but she did not cry. She may have been shaken, but she was by no means overwhelmed neither by her imprisonment nor by her rescuer being wild eyed, wounded, and holding her in a way that was far from appropriate for someone of his status.
After a long embrace that was also far too short, Princess Marinette had pulled away and Felix had stared deep into her eyes. Eyes as blue as autumn skies and as deep as the sea.
Eyes that looked at him and through him as if she was peeling back the layers of him inch by inch to the beating heart beneath so many scars.
And he had been lost ever since.
A subtle clearing of the throat brought him back to the uncomfortable present
“They’re blue,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. “The princess’s eyes are sky blue.”
The Queen looked at him for a long moment then nodded. “She has her father’s eyes. Sir Felix, can you imagine losing the person you love most in the world and seeing someone else with their eyes?”
Felix shook his head. “I can not comment on such, Your Majesty, but I am merely passing on my concerns regarding the Princess’s health and state of mind. She has been handling her duties exceptionally well, but she, herself, seems lost when there isn’t a task in front of her. Could you please consider going down to dinner this evening? Share meal with Her Highness? She needs you.”
Felix knew he was overstepping every iota of authority he possessed in making this request, but he could not bear to see the Princess stare dry-eyed out the window while yet another meal went uneaten.
It hurt him too much.
“You care for her, don’t you,” Queen Sabine said. It wasn’t a question.
Felix coughed awkwardly, his cheeks burning under her intense scrutiny. “Of course, I care about her safety and welfare, my Queen. Princess Marinette is the heir and it is my bounded duty to protect her and see her safe and well.”
“But you overstep, Lord Knight Commander,” she replied, not with anger, but with the first hint of amusement anyone had seen from her in weeks. “Safe and well are physical states. You have mentioned her as listless and careworn. You say you are concerned for her health and state of mind. You consider her lonely and suggest I return to her side as a means of comfort. Either you are the most conscientious knight in our service or there is more behind such careful attention.”
Those silver eyes took in everything about him. Nerves churning in his stomach, he bowed his head and took knee before his sovereign. “Your Majesty, I know my place and my duty.”
The Queen huffed, clearly frustrated. “As if place and duty were equal and said more of a man than the substance of his character! Look at me, Sir Knight.”
Felix’s eyes snapped to his queen’s face.
“You see me now as your Queen, but I was Thomas’ wife first and before that I was a young woman raised by my uncle who ran a tavern. Which is my place, Sir Felix? Queen Regent, wife, or tavern keeper’s niece? Do any of them count against me or are they merely the sum of my life’s story?”
He swallowed, unsure of how to answer her or even if an answer was what was required of him. Give him battles, give him conspiracies, give him intrigue and he was in his element. But when confronted by either woman of House Dupain he found himself at a loss - even if for entirely different reasons.
“I-I’m not sure how to answer you, my Queen,” he stammered.
The weariness in her pale face was painful, but her tone, when she next spoke, was gentle. “Then tell me the truth. Do you have feelings for my daughter beyond those of a knight to his future sovereign?”
Felix was frozen on his knee, cheeks burning and throat too dry to swallow let alone speak. It was his duty to protect the Royal family. Protect and serve so that House Dupain, in turn, could protect and serve the people of Ephonia. He had always performed his duty to the highest degree of honor. He had the scars to prove it.
But to admit that he respected the Crown Princess, that he admired her courage and her steadfast spirit and gentle heart, that he was fond of her presence, and that her recent buried grief was as visible and painful to him as the black bands on every arm?
That was far beyond his duty, so far beyond that it wrapped around to impinge on his sense of right and honor. How could he intrude on Her Highness’ duties and thoughts of her father with awkward words of love? For love her he did, for since the day he had held her in his arms he could never admire even the most beautiful of womankind if they were not her.
Felix was Lord Knight Commander, true, gifted with a fine estate and lands aplenty in gratitude for his service, but he had only ever been to see them once. How could he take up residence there when his heart dwelt in the castle?
Princess Marinette deserved everything her heart desired and, mere knight that he was, Felix knew he didn’t deserve the honor of being her choice. That is why he had never spoken his feelings allowed, not even to his closest companions.
They hurt him too much.
“I see,” Queen Sabine said. Felix looked up, startled, to see a smile tugging at the corner of the Queen’s mouth. “Then rise, Sir Felix. I have charges for you.”
His body obeyed without his mind’s permission as it was racing with possible meaning and outcomes. Placing his hand over his heart, he bowed again. “What would you have me do, my Queen?”
The smile widened. “Please tell Her Highness that I request to join her for dinner this evening in the private parlor. Inform the stewards that the Crown Princess is taking a day of rest and let them take care of anything that comes up. Then you -“ and here her voice sounded almost back to it’s former strength “- are to take her for a walk and picnic in the gardens. The roses should be blooming and she loves them. Offer to escort her on a ride, sort her embroidery thread, whatever she decides to do to use her spare time you are to be with her. Is that understood?”
Felix blinked, stunned and confused by this serious, and yet smiling, order. “Yes, Your Majesty, but why?”
Queen Sabine shook her head. “Humor an old woman, Sir Felix. Now go. You have a duty to perform.”
Stiffening to ramrod perfection, Felix bowed a final time and strode from the room, his mind running in ever tightening circles. It spun as he passed along the queen’s command to the stewards and only stalled when he found himself in the throne room facing a pale, weary looking princess.
When those sky blue eye lighted on him, they seemed to sparkle and a faint pink dusted across Princess Marinette’s cheeks.
“Sir Felix, good morning,” she said, her voice pleased and her smile weak, but genuine.
Then her brow furrowed in confusion as the stewards entered and started guiding the few advisers and courtiers who had arrived this early out of the room in professional silence.
She glanced back at him. “What is all this about?”
Felix swallowed, bowing hand over heart on instinct, as his mind finally landed on what the Queen had carefully not said.
The smile, the blush, the princess’ genuine pleasure in seeing him over all others in the room? His heart tried to reject it, but the strategist of his mind insisted on presenting him with evidence.
“The princess doesn’t mind my company,” he thought, marveling at what shouldn’t have been new information, yet was. “She blushed and smiled when she saw me, lowly knight that I am. She greeted me with pleasure and not just duty - I know the difference. Can it be… she is not entirely indifferent to me as more than a servant of the Crown? Could she ever accept me as a suitor?”
Felix cleared his throat nervously. “Good morning, Your Royal Highness. The queen asked me to inform you that she has ordered for you to take a day of rest. The stewards are to handle anything that needs to be addressed immediately.”
With a sigh, Princess Marinette sank back into the crimson velvet cushions of the enormous throne, one built for her giant of a father and not her delicate self. “She must feel swallowed sitting there,” Felix thought, sympathy and affection equally tugging at his sternum. “It must be like sitting in her father’s shadow all this time.”
“I didn’t want to say anything,” the princess said, the release of the tension she wore so effortlessly obviously a relief. “But if I had to sit through one more status report on the rising cost of grain or the construction of the northeast aqueduct I was either going to throw everyone out or fall asleep.”
Felix couldn’t help the twitch of a grin that tugged at his lips and heart.
“Then the queen is wise in her timing. She also requests to join you for dinner this evening in the private parlor. I believe she misses you.”
The princess blinked, her lips twisting in an attempt to keep tears in hiding. This was a revelation to Felix. He had been with her for the greater part of every day since the king’s death and, while he knew she probably indulged in the relief of tears in private, it had never been in public. Even her maids were concerned how she wouldn’t let herself grieve over her father’s loss.
That she was letting him see her struggle was… warming. It gave him hope. Not the cause of the tears - he would never desire to rejoice in her suffering or anyone’s - but that she allowed him to see she inner struggle meant that she trusted him.
“Thank you for telling me, Sir Felix. Please inform the queen I will most happily join her for dinner.”
They were silent for a long moment, pregnant with words unspoken that gave an agonizing birth to awkwardness.
“I suppose I should resign myself to having a free day,” Princess Marinette said, tapping her fingernail on the arm of the massive throne - an unconscious fidget that delighted him.
If he was right, Queen Sabine was giving him the opportunity to spend off duty time with Marinette - or as off duty as he ever got. Still, he was ordered to spend the day with her and that blush, her trusting him with her vulnerability, made his heart send out a clarion call.
“Would Your Highness care to join me on a picnic in the rose garden?” he asked. “They should be in full bloom now and I know you are fond of them.”
The blush darkened across her cheeks and those heavenly eyes fluttered down under shadowy lashes. A faint glean of white teeth could be seen tugging at her lower lip.
“You have been here with me every day since…” the Princess said shyly, unwilling to speak of the days that led up to her father’s passing. “You have attended and protected me and must be even more tired than my poor self. If I need a day of rest, then surely you do as well.”
Unwilling to let the moment pass - unwilling to let her dismiss him out of misplaced concern - he hurriedly mounted the steps of the dais and knelt before her.
“My princess,” he said, taking her hand in both of his and hoping she knew that his words were not just a required formality. “Attending and protecting you is my duty and honor.”
Greatly daring, he pressed the lightest of kisses to her fingertips. “But caring for you is my personal privilege.”
The heavens opened before him drawing him into the horizon of her eyes. They glittered and sparkled like the crystal clear waters of a mountain lake.
“Please, princess,” he murmured, breaking free of her gaze and staring down at their joined hands. “Don’t send me away. Seeing you bear the burdens of the last several weeks with such strength and courage has been hard on your poor knight. I beg that you allow me to see you happy too.”
A soft, warm hand - a fairy’s touch - covered his own and a smile so wide and full spread across her crimson cheeks that his heart pounded to free itself from his chest. It belonged to her, if she but knew it.
Princess Marinette gave his hands a gentle squeeze. “I’ll never send you away,” she whispered. “That is the one thing I could not bear. I will follow wherever you lead, my lord.”
She giggled softly, making his insides sing. “So, what is this about a picnic?”