Amial was clad lightly for summer travel, wearing only a jerkin, leggings, boots and a burnished breastplate in case of the slim chance that there would be an attack, but she was armed with her trusty sword as always. Her blonde braids were tightly wound around her head as she rode, and she looked around her at intervals, always on guard, forever mindful of her duty to defend her Princess.
Mirelle wished that she could dismount from the litter in which she was being carried and ride beside her brave Knight; her mother the Queen, however, had insisted that she stay put. As a child, Mirelle had been sickly, and the Queen did not want her beloved daughter to strain herself on this long journey and also risk the failure of the important diplomatic mission that the Princess had volunteered to carry out.
So the Princess lay back and tried to still her restlessness, admiring Amial as she rode ahead, looking forward to when the travellers would reach their destination and be able to rest. Mirelle closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, imagining the safety of a comfortable bedchamber where she could unpin the braids from Amial’s head and loose the silken yellow locks, carding her fingers through them as her lips touched against her valiant Knight’s.
And as the moon rose, the two would lie in each other’s arms, golden curls contrasting with glossy dark ones on a pure white satin pillow.
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carisma_sensei
Original F/F Ficlet, Knight/Princess
Date: 2019-12-27 10:14 pm (UTC)Mirelle wished that she could dismount from the litter in which she was being carried and ride beside her brave Knight; her mother the Queen, however, had insisted that she stay put. As a child, Mirelle had been sickly, and the Queen did not want her beloved daughter to strain herself on this long journey and also risk the failure of the important diplomatic mission that the Princess had volunteered to carry out.
So the Princess lay back and tried to still her restlessness, admiring Amial as she rode ahead, looking forward to when the travellers would reach their destination and be able to rest. Mirelle closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, imagining the safety of a comfortable bedchamber where she could unpin the braids from Amial’s head and loose the silken yellow locks, carding her fingers through them as her lips touched against her valiant Knight’s.
And as the moon rose, the two would lie in each other’s arms, golden curls contrasting with glossy dark ones on a pure white satin pillow.