Chapter Text
"So, tell me a little about yourself."
"Of course, my king. My name is Laszlo. Teresza, my wife, serves your lovely queen. I’ve trained as a knight and have served the royal family of Zaun faithfully for the past ten years. I also have a son, eight years old. Soon, he too will begin his training to become a knight."
"Wonderful, Laszlo. You're hired. While you and your wife are at work, your son may spend time with my daughter."
"Thank you, my king. I promise, Viktor will not be a burden."
"I believe that as well. He's been nothing but delightful the few times I’ve seen him at the seamstress's with my wife."
"Thank you, my king."
-~-
The stone corridors of the royal palace echoed with the soft rustle of silk and hurried footsteps. Afternoon sunlight streamed in through tall stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the marble floors.
Outside one of the grand council chambers, Laszlo stood tall and still, armored in polished steel that gleamed beneath the chandeliers. His expression was composed, but his eyes held the calm alertness of a man trained to protect — and to obey without question.
Then came the sound — hurried footsteps, too light to be a guard. The jingling of tiny bells. And then—
"Laszlo!!"
A small figure barreled around the corner in a blur of blue and silver.
It was Jacy, the eight-year-old princess, her gown layered in fine silks the color of the sky, embroidered with tiny flowers in golden thread. A tiara of pearls bounced slightly atop her perfectly curled hair. She stomped dramatically toward him, her cheeks flushed and her mouth twisted into a practiced pout.
Laszlo turned his head, and a smile ghosted across his lips — the kind that knew what was coming.
"Yes, my princess?" he asked, bending slightly to meet her gaze.
Jacy stood before him, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She tapped one slippered foot against the stone floor with great drama, her bottom lip jutting out.
"Where is Viktor?" she demanded, her voice high and sharp. “Why isn’t he here already? I told him he could come. I planned a tea party — and it’s already started!”
Laszlo suppressed a sigh. “He’s with his mother right now, helping her sew. She needed his help this afternoon.”
Jacy huffed — loudly — and spun on one heel, pacing a few short steps before whirling back around. Her skirts flared with each dramatic motion.
“Well, I need him more, and I’m the princess,” she declared. “He’s supposed to be here when I say. And I say he should come now."
She placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head in a defiant angle.
There was a pause — Laszlo knew better than to argue with royal temper tantrums.
“Very well, my princess,” he said with a respectful nod. “Allow me to fetch him for you.”
Instantly, Jacy’s entire demeanor shifted. Her eyes sparkled, and her arms dropped to her sides. She clapped her hands once, joyfully.
“Thank you, Laszlo! You’re the best!” she chirped, and with a little twirl that made her gown ripple like water, she turned and skipped off down the corridor, humming to herself and scattering invisible fairy dust with every step.
Laszlo watched her go with a resigned exhale. “For my boy’s sake,” he muttered, “may the gods grant that girl a sense of humility before she turns fifteen.”
He turned on his heel, boots clicking softly as he made his way through the castle.
He passed guards at their posts, nodded to a passing maid, and made his way down to the wide staircase that led to the lower halls. The castle grew quieter the farther he went, until the grandeur of the royal chambers gave way to the warmth of the craftsman’s wing.
Past the bustling kitchen and through a vine-covered archway, Laszlo stepped into the palace garden — a breathtaking stretch of nature within high stone walls. Roses bloomed in ivory and crimson. Fountains trickled gently into marble basins. Gravel paths snaked between perfectly trimmed hedges and trees heavy with fruit.
The path eventually led him to a small, ivy-covered building tucked against the outer edge of the grounds — the royal tailor’s workshop.
He knocked lightly, then opened the door.
The scent of fresh linen and lavender filled the air.
Inside, Teresza sat hunched over a sewing machine, her fingers guiding delicate fabric beneath the needle with expert precision. Rolls of silk and satin were stacked high on shelves around the room, while ribbons, laces, and jewels shimmered from open drawers.
Near the window, little Viktor knelt by a chest of materials, carefully sorting buttons and fabrics. He moved slowly, his wooden cane resting beside him as he reached for the pieces his mother had requested.
“Laszlo?” Teresza looked up, a thread of concern in her voice. “Is something wrong?”
Laszlo stepped in and closed the door behind him with a soft click.
“Jacy demands Viktor’s presence,” he said flatly. “There’s been a ‘tea party emergency.’”
Teresza sighed — not gently. “That girl is the very definition of spoiled. I swear, if she gets one more dress this month I’m going to start charging for every tantrum she throws.”
“She always gets what she wants,” Laszlo muttered. “And if she doesn’t, someone else pays for it.”
Viktor approached, fabric in hand, walking slowly but with determination, his little cane tapping softly on the wooden floor.
“I was told,” Laszlo continued, ruffling Viktor’s hair, “that if Her Highness so much as sneezes in my direction, I’m to drop everything and attend to her.”
Teresza rolled her eyes. “Just like her mother. I’m stitching dress number seventeen this season — all a size up. Poor girl. She’s growing rounder than her tiaras.”
“Mama…” Viktor spoke up gently. “Didn’t you say being round means someone has food and that’s a good thing?”
Teresza froze, then looked down at her son. She let out a short sigh and brushed a few strands of his hair behind his ear. “I did, sweetheart. But that girl eats like she’s trying to bribe the kitchen staff for love. And no one ever tells her ‘no.’”
“She’s nice,” Viktor said quietly, not quite meeting his mother’s eyes.
Teresza blinked, then gave a reluctant smile. “You always see the good in people, don’t you?”
She kissed his forehead, then waved him toward the door. “Go on, sweetheart. Be her knight in shining armor.”
“Yes, mama,” Viktor said, turning to Laszlo with quiet pride in his posture.
“I’ve got to return to my post,” Laszlo said, stepping close and pressing a kiss to Teresza’s temple.
“Good luck, my love,” she murmured, already returning to her thread and needle.
“Come now, Viktor,” Laszlo said as he opened the door. The boy followed, his cane making soft taps against the stone as they stepped back into the garden sunlight.
“Yes, táta,” Viktor replied softly, as they walked together, father and son, toward the castle — and toward a very expectant little princess.
-~-
Laszlo and Viktor reached the grand double doors of Princess Jacy’s room.
The hallway was quiet, the soft afternoon light filtering through the tall stained-glass windows, coloring the polished floors in hues of rose and sapphire. Two golden wall sconces flanked the doorway, and above it, a carved hammer crest stood watch — the symbol of the royal bloodline.
Viktor hesitated only a second before raising his small hand and knocking.
The door swung open instantly.
There she stood — Princess Jacy — her round, cherubic face lighting up like sunrise. Her curls bounced with every excited breath, and her dress — the sky-blue silk one his mother had sewn just months ago — was now stretched snug around her plush little arms. Her cheeks were pink with anticipation, and she beamed.
“My knight!” Jacy exclaimed with delight.
Viktor bowed immediately, just as his mother had taught him.
“Hello, my princess.” His voice was soft, respectful, a little shaky.
Jacy giggled like wind chimes in spring and reached for his hand, tugging him inside without another word. “Come! I have cake for us!”
Laszlo, still standing at the threshold, couldn't help but glance inside before the doors closed.
The room was massive — practically a chamber ballroom by any other standard — with walls painted soft pink and white, draped with velvet curtains. Stuffed animals sat in golden chairs, and dolls in silk dresses lounged along the window seat.
At the center of the room stood a miniature tea table made of carved ivory wood. Two maids stood quietly by, flanking the setup: two delicate teacups, a porcelain teapot with golden trim, and — at the center — a towering cake far too extravagant for two children. It gleamed with whipped cream, berries, and intricate sugar roses.
Laszlo exhaled deeply and closed the door behind them with a soft click.
“She truly does get everything she wants,” he muttered under his breath. “Especially when it comes to food.”
He lingered for just a moment longer before walking away. Deep down, he knew — this was more than indulgence.
This was training.
One day, Viktor would serve the princess. Best he learn now how to handle her whims.
-~-
Viktor sat across from Jacy at the little table, his legs swinging nervously beneath his chair. He watched quietly as the princess — with surprising grace — lifted the teapot and poured steaming rose-scented tea into both cups. The porcelain clinked gently with every movement.
The cake loomed large between them, almost comically oversized.
Jacy picked up the silver cake knife, stuck out her tongue in concentration, and cut a slice so generous it barely held together. She placed it delicately on a plate and pushed it in front of Viktor with a wide smile.
“My knight must eat!” she said proudly. “You need to grow big and strong so you can protect me from monsters!”
Viktor gave a shy smile. “Thank you, my princess.”
He picked up his cup of tea with careful precision, holding the handle just as his mother had taught him. He sipped quietly, trying not to shake.
Jacy cut herself a slice just as large, plopped it onto her plate, and took a triumphant bite.
“One day, you’re going to be mine forever,” she declared with sugary confidence, licking frosting from her finger before taking a dainty sip of her tea.
Viktor blinked. “Yes… I suppose I am betrothed to you, my princess.”
Jacy giggled, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “Exactly! I’m going to a ball soon, you know. There’ll be other princes there. I get to dance with them! But you have to come and protect me.”
Viktor paused mid-sip. He gently lowered his teacup to its saucer.
“Oh… I don’t know, my princess. I haven’t been trained yet.” He gave a small, apologetic bow, his voice uncertain.
Jacy scoffed and waved a hand dramatically. “That doesn’t matter. My papa never says no to me!”
She laughed and returned to her cake, digging in with gusto.
Viktor nodded slowly. “Alright… if the king says it’s okay…”
Jacy grinned brightly. “Of course he will! Now eat up, my knight!” she chirped, already halfway through her towering slice.
Viktor took a shaky breath and picked up his fork. The cake was delicious — soft, sweet, and buttery. Rich cream melted on his tongue. He couldn’t deny it: whenever he was with Jacy, he was never hungry. She was, in her own strange way, kind — even if she came wrapped in layers of silk, sugar, and stubbornness.
And though he would never say it aloud, being her knight didn’t sound like such a bad thing after all.
-~-
Viktor sat back in his chair, his little hands resting on his round belly, breathing heavily. The tea party had left him absolutely stuffed. His cheeks were flushed, and he felt pleasantly drowsy — the way one does after too much sugar and a little too much affection.
Jacy, beaming with pride, gave a little clap and turned to her maids.
“Clean this up now, please.” She waved them off with a regal little gesture.
The two women nodded and immediately began clearing the remains of the extravagant feast: delicate crumbs, half-empty cups, and the towering cake now looking like a battlefield of frosting and fruit.
Jacy moved her chair from across the table and placed it right next to Viktor's, dragging it with a soft scraping sound over the polished floor. She sat down beside him, her puffy skirt fluffing up as she did so, and leaned slightly into him — just enough to make him even more flustered.
“Are you full now?” she asked sweetly, her voice suddenly softer.
Viktor nodded slowly, still catching his breath. “Y-Yes… Thank you, my princess.”
Jacy tilted her head and smiled. Then she reached out and took his small hand in hers. “Do you know why I always feed you so much?”
Viktor blinked. “No…?”
She looked deeply into his eyes — her tone proud, as if revealing a great family secret. “It’s the Talis royal family’s love language.”
She sat a little straighter, like she was telling him something sacred. “My great-great-grandfather was a poor man once — before he became king. He went to bed hungry more nights than he could count. So when he finally wore a crown, he made sure no one in the kingdom had to go to sleep with an empty belly ever again.”
Viktor listened intently, eyes wide.
“My mama says your family isn’t as… well off as us,” Jacy continued, without a trace of malice — just matter-of-fact royalty. “That’s why I always want tea parties with you. I want to share with you. That’s what queens do for their knights.”
She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, her fingers warm and sticky with a little leftover cake frosting.
“And you,” she added, puffing her chest proudly, “are my knight. So it’s my duty to make you big and strong!”
She giggled at her own importance, and Viktor couldn't help but smile, too — shy, grateful, a little overwhelmed. “Thank you, my princess… I-I look forward to becoming your knight one day. I will protect you.”
“That’s the spirit, my brave knight!” Jacy chirped, then leaned forward and planted a sugary, sticky kiss on his cheek.
Viktor nearly stopped breathing. He sat frozen for a second, then leapt up like he'd been struck by lightning, fumbling for his little walking stick.
“I-I should go now, m-my princess! Th-thank you for your generous invitation to your beautiful tea party!” he stammered, blushing all the way to the tips of his ears.
Jacy giggled behind her hand, clearly pleased with herself, and stood up as well.
“You’re welcome, my knight. I shall invite you and your family to dinner tomorrow at six sharp. Don’t be late!”she declared grandly.
Before he could respond, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. She was so soft and warm, like a living cushion made of silk and sugar. Viktor nearly short-circuited from the contact, but after a stunned moment, he gently hugged her back.
“O-Okay… I’ll tell mama…” he mumbled, nearly breathless.
Jacy nodded with satisfaction.
“Good! Now go, my knight. Rest and grow stronger.”
She waved daintily at him, the way queens do in fairy tales.
Viktor turned and made his way to the grand double doors. He paused, looked back at her with a shy smile, and bowed slightly. “Goodbye, my princess.”
Then he slipped through the doors, closing them behind him with a soft click.
As he walked down the long corridor, his heart thumping like a drum, one thing became very clear: Princess Jacy was definitely a girl he was more than happy to serve as a knight — today, tomorrow, and maybe forever.
-~-
Viktor arrived at the tailor’s house with a full belly and a heart even fuller — fluttering quietly inside his chest like a caged bird. He had just left yet another of Princess Jacy’s lavish tea parties, and truthfully… he was more or less in love with the heir to the Talis throne.
Not that he could ever say such a thing out loud.
Especially not to his mother or father.
They didn’t like Jacy. Not even a little.
Despite her being sweet as spun sugar, always polite — and always making sure Viktor left her company warm, fed, and smiling.
As Viktor approached the door to the modest tailor’s cottage nestled at the edge of the palace grounds, he hesitated.
He wanted to tell someone.
He wanted to talk about the cake. About the hug. About the kiss on the cheek. About how Jacy had invited their entire family to dinner tomorrow evening.
But he couldn’t. Not all of it. He could only say that last part.
He took a deep breath, opened the door quietly, and slipped inside.
The smell of fabric, thread, and lavender oil filled the air — his mother’s signature blend.
He removed his shoes neatly by the threshold, just as he’d been taught, and stepped softly inside, his little cane tapping gently against the worn floorboards.
To his surprise, the Queen herself was there.
Queen Ximena, standing gracefully beside his mother, was holding up a stunning new dress — a rosy pink creation adorned with embroidered roses and tier upon tier of delicate frills and lace. The sunlight from the window made the silk shimmer like morning dew.
“Exquisite, Teresza! Jacy will be overjoyed,” the Queen declared, her voice smooth and delighted.
Viktor’s mother, seated behind her worktable with a needle still between her fingers, smiled politely — though Viktor noticed a familiar flicker of tension behind her eyes.
“Of course, Your Majesty. I hope our little princess will like her new gown,” Teresza replied evenly.
“She most certainly will,” Queen Ximena said, then paused, her tone shifting to something more private. “And, Teresza?”
Viktor’s mother looked up. “Yes, my Queen?”
The Queen smiled warmly. “We’ve decided to host a grand ball — in two weeks’ time. A true royal affair. Do you think you might be able to craft Jacy something truly extravagant?”
Teresza’s face didn’t change much, but Viktor saw the brief clench of her jaw — the same one he’d seen when Jacy was mentioned before. But her voice remained smooth.
“Naturally, Your Majesty. What color would you like the gown?”
“Lavender,” Queen Ximena said instantly, clapping her hands softly.
“Something regal. Magical. Like moonlight in spring.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Teresza said, offering a perfect, practiced bow. “I’ll begin tomorrow morning.”
“You’re wonderful, Teresza,” the Queen beamed, and pulled a cream envelope from her handbag. “Here. A little extra this month. Not that I think my husband would object — Jacy is his darling, after all. But let’s just keep this between us, hmm?”
Teresza’s eyes widened in surprise. A genuine smile broke across her face — the first Viktor had seen in weeks.
“Thank you, my Queen. I appreciate your generosity more than you know. I’ll just need to take the princess’s new measurements, of course, so the gown fits perfectly.”
“Naturally. I’ll bring her by tomorrow,” Ximena said with a nod of approval.
“Wonderful. Until tomorrow, my Queen.”
“Goodbye, Teresza.”
Queen Ximena turned, the gown draped elegantly over her arms, and nearly bumped into Viktor. She paused, startled, then smiled warmly.
“Ah. Hello, Viktor.”
“Hello, my Queen,” he said softly, bowing just as his father had taught him.
She exited with a rustle of silk and a faint trail of rosewater perfume.
Once the door closed, silence hung in the room for a few moments. Then Teresza turned back to her work, letting out a long, measured sigh.
“Well then, Viktor, my boy. How was the tea party?” she asked without looking at him, threading a needle carefully.
Viktor walked closer, his cane tapping lightly.
“Elegant. I’m so full I can hardly breathe.” He let out a tiny puff of air and flopped gently onto the small stool near her sewing table.
“Good,” his mother said, nodding. “At least she’s generous when it comes to you.”
“Yes… I had two huge pieces of cake. And two cups of tea.”
Teresza snorted softly, then opened her arms. Viktor leaned in and let himself be gathered into her lap. She smelled like fabric, warm linen, and safety.
“Then you don’t need any supper tonight, do you?” she teased.
“No, Mama.” He giggled softly, and she brushed his bangs away from his forehead.
They sat like that for a while, until Teresza spoke again. “Will you help me tomorrow when the princess comes for her measurements?”
Viktor nodded. “Yes, Mama.”
She smiled at him — tired, but full of love. “Thank you, my son. What would I do without you?”
She leaned down and kissed him gently on the forehead.
And though Viktor said nothing…
In his heart, he knew that one day, he would have to stand between his princess and his family.
He just didn’t know how — or when — that day would come.