The Accidental Princess (Part 5)

The Accidental Princess (Part 5)

Prince Kit x Reader

Synopsis: A contract has been found after twenty years, bearing your name and Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter summary: A feast for the late Queen is held.

Word Count: 6.9k words

Warnings: Badly translated German (I just used Google translate so pls, it's not me T.T), period-typical misogyny, that's it? Also, I took liberties and made their dance into a Landler instead of a waltz. You can watch it here.

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY! I hope 2022 would be better for all of us! I'm sorry it took too long for the fic to come out. You'll see why in the end. TAGLIST for the fic IS STILL OPEN! Just send me an ask if you want to be added to the list :) Also thoughts, reviews, comments, suggestions, requests (and reblogs!) are very much welcome and appreciated! Please enjoy Part 5 of The Accidental Princess!

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

You adored feasts and balls. You enjoyed all sorts of festivities, even small ones that welcomed home dignitaries from other countries. Their customs and traditions were beautiful in each country you had been to. It was also during these soirees that you had learned numerous folk dances and sampled their cuisine. You had never chosen a favorite; it was quite impossible to compare one to the other when they had been completely different in their style and tradition.

In all the festivities you had gone to, Queen Amalie’s death anniversary was one you were surprised to celebrate. Royals mourned their losses with subdued feasts and with speeches that told of their life and achievements. While there was certainly a feast and stories of the late queen’s life, you had not expected for there to be dancing. Or even the presence of foreign royals, what with the invitations being sent out quite later than the usual.

“Would you like some refreshments, pet?” Louis asked as you both walked back from the dance floor.

You had stayed close to Louis for the entirety of the feast, only greeting Kit when he had entered the ballroom. You kept in mind what the king had said, despite your heart’s protestations. Kit was to marry Princess Chelina. You were destined to travel the world and learn more of being a diplomat for the kingdom. You were in no shape or form to be a princess. Chelina, meanwhile, was Kit’s perfect half. With their marriage, the kingdom’s armies would be fortified with the best militia and the kingdom itself would be one step closer to opening more channels for international trade. The marriage would realize what Kit had planned for his kingdom.

Kit’s eyes captured yours from across the ballroom and you noted the intent gaze he had about his face. You knew he had been watching you the whole night. You had not gone to see him inside his mother’s garden the night before and from the look of annoyance on his face, you knew he had been there, waiting for your arrival. Your feet had been ready to go but you remembered what you had promised the king. Who were you to defy the king, despite what his son had said?

“Y/N,” Louis called.

You broke eye contact with Kit and turned to your dear friend, smiling apologetically. “Forgive me. My mind was elsewhere.”

“Your mind or your eye?” Louis jested.

You rolled your eyes at him affectionately. “What were you asking me, Louis?”

“I was merely asking if you wanted lemonade to drink. You look rather flushed. I would not want to lose a dance partner tonight.” He told you.

“On the contrary, I think you would rather lose me to find excuse to take the Princess Chelina for a waltz.” You looked at him wryly. “You were abuzz with excitement when you learned the maestro had a Spanish dance for the princess.”

Louis raised a brow at you. “You know of that Spanish dance as well, pet. How are you sure that my excitement was not for you?”

You chuckled lightly. “Because I know you, Louis, and I know that you want to have at least one dance with your cousin’s fiancée.” You pulled away from him. “I shall let you go now. Do not worry about me. It is not my first ball where I am left to my own devices.”

“Y/N—”

“I am fine. A lemonade and fresh air shall revive my spirits.” You smiled at him before bobbing a quick curtsy.

“I shall find you after our dance, pet. Do not be going anywhere.” Louis took your hand and kissed your knuckles, winking as he left.

You walked towards one of the footmen, taking a glass of lemonade before heading to one of the open verandas. The breeze was cool with a tang of salt from the sea. It was a beautiful summer night, the moon full above the palace. All of the flowers were in bloom in the gardens beyond you. You heaved a deep sigh and sipped your refreshment.

Queen Amalie’s books all had information about the plants Digitalis purpurea and Aconitum napellus. It was baffling why she had concocted a poisonous blend with intentions of drinking it for herself. You had not known her to be so deeply despondent to resort to drinking such cocktail. You may have not known the queen for long—or even at all—but from all of the stories people had talked about her just earlier the night, she did not seem to be miserable enough to try and end her life with a dangerous tea blend. But it was a possibility, however questionable it was.

No, you don’t think that, your inner voice said to you. You did not think the queen would do that to herself. Perhaps she was reckless? You thought to yourself. Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Queen Amalie had loved her garden. Kit had shared that she loved planting and caring for her blooms. Someone with delicate health knew better than to spend much time under the glare of the summer sun. Someone with extensive knowledge of said plants and herbs also knew the proper precautions when handling such danger.

Despite Louis’s speculation of the sun being the culprit for her death, you felt it in you that the sun was not at fault for such terrible ending of the queen. You had an inkling it had something to do with the tea and the dangerous petals mixed within it.

You looked at the gardens before you and you sighed once more. Who were you to start an investigation on how Queen Amalie passed? What was there to investigate on? The petals, the herbs, the tea, her love for the gardens; they were all coincidental. If you noticed it, other people would have noticed it before you as well.

“The Duke of Granville had kept you to himself the whole night, Miss Y/N,” you heard a voice call from behind you, bringing you out of your silent musings.

You put your glass of lemonade down and turned, curtsying at the sight of the Count of Blois. “Lord Blois.”

The Count took your hand and placed a respectful kiss on your knuckles. “It is a surprise to find you in your home kingdom. Weren’t you always one for traveling?”

You chuckled lightly as you stood. “There were some matters that needed my presence in the kingdom, my lord. Although, I shall be back on the ship to travel once more soon.” you told the kindly noble.

“Ah. Is that so? Where shall you be traveling next?”

“Aragon, my lord.”

“Another Spanish country. There shall be more of your astounding tales to tell. No other person had come close to convincing me to plan on traversing the seas to try the foods of Castile other than you.”

You smiled. “You shall not look any further for the Cook has prepared an Aragonian meal for the princess. It is not much different than the food from Castile. I am confident it shall satiate your hunger for them.”

Blois smiled. “Then I shall give them a try. May I have you for the next waltz, Miss Y/N?”

“I will be honored, my lord.” You placed your hand in his waiting one, walking with him back to the ballroom.

Since the Count’s taking of you to a dance, you had not one respite for the next six sets. Lord Blois had started a trend of the peers asking for your hand for a waltz or a quadrille or even a polka. The nobles and the two princes—Prince Giacomo of the Two Sicillies and Prince Frederick of Prussia—who had asked you to dance had been your friends and acquaintances from other kingdoms and overseas.

You and your dance partners talked of how the countries and territories had fared since you had left. Their economies had increased and you congratulated them for having done so. With your gentle persuasion, you managed to convince the princes and the nobles to consider going to the square and peruse the products of your tiny kingdom for them to bring back to theirs. You allowed yourself to believe that you made a difference, that even your small chats had contributed to the spread more of your kingdom’s bounty and wares to other foreign lands.

Like Lord Blois, they also expressed their surprise in finding you in your home kingdom. You had not realized how well-known you were for your travels. You laughed along with them as you jested that your feet were not meant for only one place.

“Wie ich sehe, hast du den Großherzog kennengelernt,” Prince Frederick, the Prince of Prussia, noted as he danced with you. (I see you met the Grand Duke.)

You turned to said man, finding the noble looking at you through squinted eyes. Your stomach roiled at the ominous expression on his face.

“Kennen Sie den Großherzog?” you asked, looking back to your dance partner. (Do you know the Grand Duke?)

“Ja. Er ist ein Adliger aus meinem Land.” (Yes. He is a nobleman from my country.)

Your brow raised. “Ist er ein Preuße?” (Is he a Prussian?)

The prince nodded.

Your brows furrowed as you thought to yourself. If he was Prussian and the princess Aragonian, how were they related to one another?

“Weißt du vielleicht, wie er und die Prinzessin Chelina verwandt sind?” you asked. (Do you maybe know how he and the Princess Chelina are related?)

The prince spun you gently in his arms before answering. “Ich glaube, seine Schwester hat den Prinzen von Aragon geheiratet und die Prinzessin ist seine Nichte.” (I believe his sister married the prince of Aragon and the princess is his niece.)

You nodded. “Ich verstehe. Spricht er Deutsch, der Großherzog?” (I understand. Does he speak German, the Grand Duke?)

“Ich sollte so denken. Schließlich ist er Preuße.” Prince Frederick pulled away from you. He bowed when the music ended. (I should think so. After all, he’s a Prussian.)

You gave the prince a curtsy. You clapped at the orchestra for such a wonderful dance and held on to Prince Frederick’s offer hand. You took one last look at the Grand Duke and found him interacting with his niece.

So, the Grand Duke was Prussian and he spoke German. It would mean that some of the books he gave Queen Amalie would have been in the German language. Including the first herbology book I’ve read, you thought.

“Wann konnen im Sie em palast erwarten, fräulein Y/N?” asked the prince as he led you back from the dance floor. (When can I expect you in the palace, Miss Y/N?)

“Ich fürchte, ich kann Ihnen keine Antwort geben, Hoheit. Ich hoffe, es ist bald soweit. Ich hatte mich immer danach gesehnt, nach Preußen zurückzukehren.” You told the prince, standing before him. (I am afraid I cannot answer you, Your Highness. I hope it will be soon. I had always longed to return to Prussia.)

“Ich lasse die Türen für Ihre Ankunft offen. Es ist so lange her, dass ich in Ihrer wunderbaren Gesellschaft war.” said the prince. (I will leave the doors open for your arrival. It’s been so long since I have been in your wonderful company.)

You chuckled lightly. “Sie schmeicheln mir, Eure Königliche Hoheit. Ich danke dir für das Kompliment.” (You flatter me, Your Royal Highness. I thank you for the compliment.)

Prince Frederick smiled affectionately at you. “Es ist ein wohlverdientes Kompliment. Ich hatte noch nie das Vergnügen, seit Ihrem Weggang mit jemandem zu sprechen, der so intelligent und schön ist wie Sie.” (It is a well-deserved compliment. I have never had the pleasure of speaking to someone as intelligent and beautiful as you since you left.)

You flushed. “Ich bin sicher, die Damen Ihres Hofes sind viel schöner und schlauer als ich.” (I am sure the ladies in your court are much more beautiful and smarter than I.)

“Keiner von ihnen besitzt deine Lebendigkeit,” he told you with a tender smile. (None of them have your liveliness.)

“Sie ist eine ziemlich temperamentvolle Person, nicht wahr?” said a familiar voice behind you. (She’s quite a spirited person, isn’t she?)

You felt your heart thud suddenly in your chest. You turned to the voice, finding Kit looking at you, and you curtsied before him.

“Your Royal Highness,” you said.

You felt his stare through your bowed head and you swallowed. You were not ready to confront him. He had been staring at you the whole night with ire on his face and you knew it was because you failed to come to his mother’s garden.

You stood as Prince Frederick bowed before Kit. “Eure Königliche Hoheit. Dir und deinem Vater mein aufrichtiges Beileid. Deine Mutter war eine wundervolle Frau.” (Your Royal Highness. My condolences to you and your father. Your mother was a wonderful woman.)

“Danke, Eure Königliche Hoheit.” Kit only uttered. (Thank you, Your Royal Highness.)

“Und ja, Fräulein Y/N ist ziemlich temperamentvoll. Ich beneide Sie, Ihre Königliche Hoheit, dass Sie sie in Ihrer Nähe haben. Ich hätte mich nicht von ihr getrennt. Sie ist ein seltenes Juwel.” Frederick told the prince as he looked over at you. (And yes, Miss Y/N is quite spirited. I envy you, Your Royal Highness, for having her close by. I would not have parted with her. She is a rare gem.)

You flushed once more, turning your eyes away shyly from him and into Kit’s. He was looking back at you intently, a brow raised.

“Ja, ist sie.” Kit said, keeping his eyes on you. “Verzeihen Sie mir as Eindringen, Eure Königliche Hoheit Ich möchte das Fräulein nur um den nächsten Tanz bitten.” (Yes, she is. Forgive me for the intrusion, Your Royal Highness. I just wanted to ask the lady for the next dance.)

You looked away from Kit, your body shivering at his icy stare.

“Ja, sicher.” Prince Frederick took your hand and bowed over it, kissing the top of it. “Es war mir eine Freude, Sie wiederzusehen, Fräulein. Ich freue mich auf deine Rückkehr nach Preußen." (Yes, of course. It was a pleasure to see you again, Miss. I look forward to your return to Prussia.)

You curtsied at the Prussian prince. Your lips were drawn to a smile that did not reach your eyes. “Danke für den Walzer, Eure Königliche Hoheit.” (Thank you for the waltz, Your Royal Highness.)

“Das Vergnügen ist meins.” Frederick looked at Kit and shook his hand. “Nochmals mein Beileid.” (The pleasure is mine. My condolences again.)

Kit had been watching you since he entered the ballroom. It was impossible to not notice you because you had been the most beautiful in all of the ladies present, Princess Chelina included. Even when you had worn your simplest of dresses, he would be quick to find you because everyone else had been wearing eye-catching clothing that highlighted the simplicity of yours. Your beauty echoed through the full halls of the palace and he saw that he was not the only one drawn to you. Other nobles and princes had been drawn to you as well.

He watched as the Prince of Prussia left, feeling the green-eyed monster slither its way to his chest once more. All your subsequent dances after Louis had been with other noblemen and you had been happy in each of them, conversing unreservedly. He knew you reveled in speaking with the foreign guests, especially so when you had spoken in another language. He had not understood one of your conversations but basing on the way your eyes brightened and your voice pitched higher, he knew you were speaking passionately about the topic. It made him jealous that he was not the one to witness such fondness from you.

He had watched as you interacted with Prince Frederick. You seemed to be in raptures whenever he opened his mouth. He knew the prince, thought him quite similar with his cousin Louis, and Kit figured that perhaps you preferred men like his cousin. And Louis and he were opposites of each other.

Kit turned to you, finding half of your body turned away from him as if readying to flee. “I must find the Duke of Gran—”

“I believe I asked you for a dance, Y/N,” he said firmly and regretted his tone of voice when you looked at him. There was apprehension in your eyes, a bit of fear as well, and guilt washed over him.

“Of course, Your Royal Highness,” you said meekly, looking away from him. Your tone did not sit well with him. “Forgive me.”

Kit cleared his throat, feeling it constrict behind his cravat. He took your cold hand in his and squeezed it. He did not feel you return the action and he felt like a cad for letting his jealousy get the best of him. You were faultless. You were just being yourself with your other dance partners and he was jealous that you were acting differently towards him.

“Shall we?” Kit asked.

“Yes, Your Royal Highness,” you said in a small voice.

He led you to the dance floor. He bowed as you curtsied at him and with the first strains of the Landler music, you both got into position. He pulled you close to him, feeling your body flush against his and saw the pink tinge of your cheeks at your nearness to each other.

He danced you gently, watching your face as you both spun across the floor. He found you limiting your reactions, trying your best not to let yourself be lost in the music.

“Is something wrong, Y/N?” he asked. His voice still held that authoritative tone in it. His hand gripped yours, an attempt to tell you how apologetic he was for it.

You cleared your throat and shook your head. “No. Nothing is wrong.”

Both of you were silent as you danced. Kit watched as you waltzed elegantly in his arms, seeing how you slowly felt more of the music in your body. You hopped and skipped and spun in his arms and he let himself smile as you allowed yourself to dance passionately.

“Are you not going to ask me how I know how to dance the Landler?” Kit asked as you reached the part where you were close enough to start a conversation.

“I assumed it is part of your princely training,” you murmured.

His voice turned hushed. “The Landler was my mother’s favorite dance. She and father always danced it at every ball they threw.”

“Oh,” was all you said.

“I had only danced with her for a handful of times. Father was her favorite partner. In fact, if I were to take my father’s words to heart, I believe this was what they danced on their wedding, their first dance.”

You swallowed and looked away from him, just in time for him to spin you. When you returned in his arms, he found himself looking into your soulful eyes.

“We never had a first dance,” Kit thought out loud.

You looked over his shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes. “Please do not speak of that, Kit.”

“And why not?”

You kept quiet. It was slowly driving him mad that everything that came out of his mouth was the wrong thing to say. How was it that he never did right by you since the Princess Chelina’s arrival? What had happened since that wonderful time you both had in the square?

“Y/N?” he tried.

You finally looked at him and all words evaded him. Your cheeks were flushed and your breathing short and shallow. There was an emotion in your eyes that he could not name but he knew he felt it in him too. Was it love? Was it regret? Did you pine for him like he did for you? All those questions and not one answer.

He felt himself shiver as he held you against him. The next few positions in the dance required the two of you to be closer to each other and he understood why this specific dance was his mother’s favorite. His nearness to you made it seem like he could feel his heart beat the same time as yours. It was a much personal dance, made to only be shared by lovers. The intimacy of it, despite being in the center of the palace ballroom, was enough for Kit to let out a deep groan of desire.

He saw you shiver as well when he placed both of your hands on your waist. Your eyes grew bigger in the candlelight and all emotions of fear and apprehension were gone in them as he beheld you. In their place was a different emotion that made hope bloom in his chest.

The song slowly drew to a close. He held both of your hands in his, spinning you halfway until your back rested against his chest. He breathed in your scent of lavenders and lemon, committing to memory the contours of your back. You looked up at him as he looked down at you.

“Come with me,” he whispered.

You shivered and he saw the minute nod you gave him. He felt you let go of his hands and turn until you were facing him. You dropped into a curtsy while he placed his right hand on his chest, bowing at you.

Kit heard the applause but it was drowned out by the beating of his heart in his ears. He breathed deeply, watching you as you rose from your curtsy. He held out his hand to you and you took it, letting him lead you to the gardens.

You let go of his hand when you had stepped out of the ballroom and kept a respectful distance from him. He frowned.

“Did my father talk to you, Y/N?” he asked as he turned to you.

You shook your head at him, eyes away from his face. “No.”

“The Grand Duke?”

You shook your head once again. His frown deepened.

“Then why are you silent? Why did you not approach me at all any time during the feast?”

Kit saw how you swallowed and looked down on your hands. He figured it was a nervous habit of yours, playing with your fingers, and he did not understand why you would be nervous around him. He did not understand the sudden change in you at all.

“Y/N—”

“Are you angry with me?” you asked in a small voice.

He stopped before you, unbelieving what he heard. Angry? He knew his tone had been authoritative when he addressed you before but it was only a residual from the conversation he had from one of the hard-headed royals. He would never be angry with you.

“Angry?” he asked, aghast. “Why would I be angry with you?”

“Because last night…” You stopped talking, moving away from him.

He had waited for you in his mother’s garden last night. He had an inkling that you would not show yourself but he did not hold it against you. You were level-headed and practical. He had hoped that you would not heed his father’s words and come meet him. When you had not, he understood you. Of course, he did.

“I had hoped you would come,” Kit said quietly as he walked beside you.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed.

“Don’t be. It is I who should apologize to you,” he said.

You looked at him, eyes confused.

“I shouldn’t have made you feel this way, Y/N. I shouldn’t have forced you to accept that proposal. It was wrong of me.”

“Oh, Kit.”

“They were the words of a desperate man. Forgive me.”

You smiled sadly at him. “All is forgiven.”

Kit felt himself breathe out in relief. “Shall we start over again?”

You took a deep breath, nodding as you let it out. He offered his arm out to you and you slipped your hand on the crook of it.

“You are quite popular tonight, Y/N,” he told you after a moment of companionable silence. He began leading you to the direction of his mother’s secret garden.

“They are friends of mine from my travels.” You said, other hand lifting your voluminous skirts as you walked beside the prince.

“If you do not mind me asking but what was it that made you laugh with every single one of them?”

Kit felt the air lift with your smile. His heart fluttered at the sight of the smile lighting up your face.

“They were surprised to see me here. I believe I am quite well-known for being anywhere but home.” You said softly.

“Is that so? Why don’t you stay for long in the kingdom?”

“I never found a reason to.”

“And now?” Kit asked, turning to you.

You looked at him with surprised eyes, perhaps not anticipating his question. He hoped. Oh, how he hoped that you saw your reason and that it was him.

“Kit…” You sighed, squeezing his arm. “How I wish that I could stay but I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” he asked you again, the same question he had asked you yesterday.

You swallowed. “I won’t,” you whispered.

His arm tensed at your answer.

Your hand squeezed his arm once more. You only walked quietly beside him.

“Tell me of those friends of yours.” Kit asked of you instead. “Tell me how they came to be.”

He listened intently as you told him of your dance partners. You told him how you had met each of them and how you had developed a friendship with them that did not break however far you were from each other. You met the princes because of your father, while the other lords had been from when you were traveling through the country. Lord Veneering had been the oldest of your dance partners and your friendship with him was through his young daughter, who had taken a liking to you when you told her of stories from the Brothers Grimm.

“Prince Frederick seems to be quite taken with you,” Kit mused. He looked over to you and found you breathing in the cool summer air. There was a tang of salt to the breeze, as well as a mix of the scent of all the flowers in the garden.

“The prince is… an admirer.” you said.

He raised an eyebrow, feeling the constricting feeling on his chest once more. “An admirer, you say?”

“Yes.” You walked silently with him. “He is rather like your cousin, I find.”

“Ah, yes. Another of your admirers.” he nearly spat but he held himself.

“With Louis, it was the other way around,” you said with a smile.

“You admired Louis?”

“I was infatuated with him. I was sixteen when I met him and he was the most urbane of all nobles I had met and close to my age as well. We are only friends because he thinks me like a sister.” You said in a light tone. “I was quite all right with it albeit I was initially heartbroken with his rejection.”

The tight vise of the green-eyed monster loosened when he heard you say that you and Louis were only friends.

“I count myself lucky to be friends with him, however vexing he is.” Kit heard the smile in your voice and he allowed himself to smile.

“He is vexatious, make no mistake about that.” He told you with a grin.

You chuckled lightly at that. “That is the only thing that he differs from Prince Frederick.”

He only hummed, mood turning sour when he remembered that the prince was an admirer of yours.

“I find myself fortunate to be friends with all sorts of people. There are things to learn from common folk that you would not learn from nobility, and vice versa.” You said, swerving from the topic of the Prussian prince.

“I confess I do not have the luxury to do that.” Kit said. “Although, through your stories, I feel as though I am friends with them already.”

“It is never too late to start making friends with the citizens of your kingdom.” You told him.

“How do I go about making friends with the citizens, then?” he asked.

You smiled softly at him and he wondered if your lips were as soft as the smile and the words that came from them. “Well, you must simply have courage and be kind.”

He hummed, still engrossed at your beauty and intelligence. You raised a delicate brow at him, looking peeved.

“It is sound advice, Kit.” You said and he chuckled at your petulant tone. “Had I not been courageous enough to approach them, I would not have the pleasure of making these many friends from foreign lands.”

“No, no. I believe you. I was not mocking you.” He bent down and picked a lavender sprig. “A lavender, Y/N, as an apology.”

You took the sprig from his hand, fingers brushing against his, and he felt a jolt of desire rush through him. He cleared his throat, putting a stop to all of his feverish thoughts about you.

“Won’t they be looking for you?” You asked as you held on to the lavender.

Kit sighed. “Father would. I much rather spend time with you in the garden than be inside with all of the festivities.”

“Does it still hurt?” you asked suddenly as he led you to the door to the alcove.

He looked at you. “What does?”

“Whenever you think about her?”

He nodded. “It hurts more, now that I have realized it has been a year since. I still have regrets,” he told you. “I wish I hadn’t gone hunting. I would have stayed with her in her garden.”

“You couldn’t have known, Kit,” you told him softly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

You were right but it did not assuage the guilt he felt. “When I returned from my hunt, I was told she had been looking for me. She must have been so far gone because when I had arrived in her chambers, she was delirious. Had I returned earlier, she might have still remembered who I was.”

He felt your hand squeeze his arm. “I’m sorry…”

“The events… All of it had been so quick. I had hoped that she would recover, that it was just a bout of delirium brought about by the heat of the sun, but she did not, even after the physician had sedated her. All I could ever do was promise her that I would see through her plans. She had slaved away for it and it never came into fruition.”

“Then do. It is never too late for you to realize her dreams and plans,” you told him gently.

Kit was quiet as he pushed the wooden door open. He strode in, hearing you follow closely behind him and he closed the door.

“Whenever I miss her, I come here.” he said.

He watched as you walked around. You ran your hands on the roses that had bloomed and smelled some of them.

“I feel as though she is with me in spirit whenever I am here,” he said. He always found solace in his mother’s garden, and he smiled to himself at the happy coincidence that it was also the very place where he had married you.

“Do you talk to her?” you asked as you walked to him.

“Talk?”

“Yes. In some countries I had been to, they often talk to their dearly departed for guidance and strength. I figured you must do the same since you miss her.”

“I can’t say I have out loud.”

He walked over to a statue; the only one of his mother’s that his father had commissioned to remember her by. Why his father left it in the place he never set foot on, he did not know.

He felt you sidle over to him and he turned to see you looking up at the marble face of his mother.

“Is that her?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said in a hushed voice.

“She’s beautiful.”

Kit remained quiet as he looked at his mother’s face solemnly.

“Your Majesty,” you said reverently and he turned to see you curtsy before the statue. “I fear we have not formally met. Please excuse my forwardness as I introduce myself.”

He felt himself smile as he watched you.

“My name is Y/N. I am the daughter of one of your most devoted diplomats.”

“She is also my wife, mother,” Kit found himself saying. It was refreshing to him, to verbally speak to his mother and not just keep the conversation in his head.

It was your turn to smile, albeit it was small. “A peculiar story, Your Majesty. You see, when I was six and Kit was eight, we had mistakenly signed a marriage contract in this very garden of yours. I am at fault for that, madam, so please do not be cross with your son. Kit has been too understanding about the matter. I find he is like you in that aspect. Both of you are benevolent.”

He just watched you, seeing you talk so casually as if his mother was well and truly with you in the garden.

“He could be rather stubborn too, madam.” You grinned at him before returning to look at the statue. “He says he took after his father. I cannot tell because I had not been in the presence of your husband for long but if Kit says his father is unrelenting, then I shall take his word for it.

“Your son had also been a gracious host to me during my stay in the palace. I fear I shall miss his presence when I leave.”

Kit looked away, blowing out a breath. Every day was one day nearer to your departure from him. He hated it; loathed that he was helpless in making you stay even if he could command you to.

“But I shan’t worry overmuch. He has his father and you and this lovely garden of yours.

“He shall also be married to the princess of Zaragoza. That, I am most excited to tell you because it would mean that your plans can be put to action. You see, madam, Kit is very proud of your work. He has told me it will be his first proclamation when he is king. I confess I am very eager to see it happen. Our kingdom might be small compared to the other territories but we have resources that cannot be found anywhere else. I know these for a fact for I had traveled far and wide with my emissary father. Your plans and Kit’s enthusiasm to see them realized will bring our small kingdom to greatness. I shall be happy when it comes true.”

You were enthusiastic in your stories to his mother, like you and she had known each other for quite some time. It was special thing about you; your ability to befriend people you had only met. You were kind, and that made you more beautiful than you already were.

“That is all I have to say, Your Majesty. I have no flowers to offer you and I would not want to pluck any of the beautiful roses in your garden. Please accept this humble lavender sprig your son has given me.”

You placed the sprig at the foot of the statue and curtsied.

Kit looked at you, pride blooming in his chest as you regarded his mother’s statue like it was the real her. “She would have liked you, Y/N. I knew she would. You’re kind and brave and compassionate.”

You straightened and he saw the pink rise to your cheeks as you turned to him.

“I know I do.”

You swallowed. He saw how your eyes grew bigger in the moonlight. “Kit…”

“I am in love with you,” he confessed.

In love.

Kit was in love with you.

It had been your dream, to have the one you love return your affections but you knew that this was yet to be painful. Kit did not belong to you and you did not belong to him. You refused to believe his words because you knew that if you let yourself believe, you would hope. And hope was powerful; it was strong enough to hurt you and disappoint you.

You looked at Kit, feeling your eyes fill with tears and you turned from him. You could not stand to see the rawness of the emotions in his eyes because you knew those very emotions were the ones you felt in your heart.

“Y/N?”

You hugged yourself, taking deep breaths before facing him once more. “Kit, you shouldn’t fall in love with me. We hardly know each other.”

“Then tell me more about yourself. Tell me all of your dreams and your aspirations. Tell me your woes and how I can take them from you. I shall dedicate my whole life to knowing everything about you if that is what you wish.” He said in an aching tone.

You shook your head. You walked farther from him, on to the opposite side of his mother’s garden. “It is not I you should be dedicating your life to. You are to be married to Princess Chelina. She is the answer to all of your plans and wishes and dreams. I am but the problem your father and the Grand Duke wish to remove.”

You saw Kit advance towards you and you held out a hand to stop him. He did and, in his eyes, you saw how he longed to hold you. “It is because they don’t know you. They don’t know how wonderful you are, how smart and kind and beautiful,” he insisted.

“Those traits do not matter. I am not a princess. I do not have a country or an army or riches that will be of advantage to the kingdom.” Your heart clenched as you realized how poorly you were. You were a diplomat’s daughter. You had no proper upbringing. You did not even have friends in your own home kingdom. You were not fit to belong with Kit, no matter how your heart screamed that it wanted to.

“No, you do not have those,” Kit agreed and you looked at him in despair.

Had he realized how undesirable you were? Was he to retract his words?

“But you have your wit, Y/N, and that is what matters to me.”

He reached for you, prying your arms from around your body and holding your cold clammy hands in his warm ones. You looked at him as a lone tear fell down your cheek. He wiped it away with a finger and stared into the depths of your eyes.

“You are brilliant. I hate how you do not think yourself so because you have no title. You are my princess.” He whispered against you, finger catching a tear once more as you let yourself cry.

“Kit—”

“You do not need those riches or an army or the kingdom to entice me. I have those and let me give them to you.”

“No—”

“I just want you for who you are. I love you for who you are.”

You closed your eyes, your tears coming unbidden. You broke away and stepped from him. Your stomach turned and your knees felt like they would give way if you did not have anything—or anyone—to support you.

“Don’t make me hope. I do not want to hope because it will hurt when I can’t have you,” you whispered.

“But you have me, Y/N. You’ve possessed me. You own my heart and my soul. Everything I am is now yours.”

“Kit, please.” You wiped your tears. “Please, don’t do this to me.”

“Y/N—”

“I am not what you need. I am not what is expected of you.” You swallowed thickly. “I am just a passing fancy to you and you shall forget me when we are divorced.”

“I will never forget you.”

“Please, stop,” you begged.

You felt him cup your face. You were surprised in the intensity in his eyes, the anguish and the hope, the despair and the love.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you and that is enough for me.”

You broke down, crying as thoughts of love and uncertainty rushed through you.

You loved him with all your heart but it was the same heart that told you to forget him. It was the same heart who tried to outweigh all of the rational thoughts in your mind because you wanted to love and be loved in return. You wanted to give everything to Kit, your love and your life, but for the good of the kingdom, you knew you had to make sacrifices. You had nothing to lose and more to gain if you let yourself love him. You were the one who should make the sacrifice.

You looked into his eyes and your heart ached when you saw how strong his love was for you. You couldn’t bring yourself to make the sacrifice but you knew you must.

“Kit, I—”

“I refuse to believe you do not feel the same way about me. I can see it in your eyes that you love me. If you do not, tell me. Tell me and one word from you shall silence me on the subject forever.”

Your tears fell once more as you stared deeply into his eyes. “I—I—”

“Tell me,” he commanded.

“I can’t.”

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12 YEARS OF THE VAMPIRE DIARIES PILOT - AIRED SEPTEMBER 10, 2009

Are you spying on me now?

The Accidental Princess (Part 1)

Prince Kit x Reader

Summary: A contract has been found, after twenty years, bearing your name and Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Word Count: ~3.4k words

Warnings: lots of ye olde words (maybe they sound pretty cringe??) period-typical misogyny?? that's it???

A/N: Hi, everyone! Yep, I am still on hiatus so updates for this one wouldn't be regular. This is supposed to be a Cinderella 2015 ff but I think the story feels too straightforward so I took some liberties with this one. I'm still using some characters and there will be new ones. It's a pretty different fic compared to Snapshot and Savior. It's a hUGE departure from it. I appreciate your comments and thoughts about this. I'd like to hear whatever it is you have to say about it: from the cringe ye olde words to the period-typical misogyny to the whole chapter if you find it confusing, etc. Not beta'd still so all mistakes are mine. Here is The Accidental Princess! (title subject to change)

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

Once upon a time, there was a girl who accidentally married the prince.

That would have been a story to be told for ages, you thought wryly to yourself.

You had met The Brothers Grimm before during one of your travels with your father to the far away land of Prussia. They were an odd sort; old men who you would have never thought to have been the author of the short tales you loved reading as a child. There were semblances of them in their stories, if one judged a person by their looks. Stories of beautiful beginnings followed by sorrow and dread. After all, not every once upon a time ended with a happy ever after.

I wonder how they would have written my story, you thought to yourself as you stood before the king.

You had been summoned to the palace the moment your ship had docked into your home kingdom’s port. There was no preamble as to why you were wanted; they only loaded you into the carriage and had presented you to your monarch without so much as a change of clothing. You were not vain but it would do well to be wearing the proper attire when meeting the king. Instead, you had met him in your leather breeches and your silk dress shirt, which in itself was scandalous, but not as scandalous as knowing the reason why you were there.

“You see, my son is to marry the Grand Duke’s niece but we find ourselves in an unusual predicament,” said the king as he stood from his throne.

You had no voluminous skirt to tuck your hands into when you were nervous. Instead, you only clenched them at your front, holding on to them like a lifeline.

“My secretary has found a marriage certificate binding you and my son in matrimony.” The king said as he stood before you. The king was an old man, stooping now but it did not dampen the commanding aura he had about him. “You had been married to my son for twenty years.”

That would have made you a child of six when you got married but you could not remember anything as far as that. Or anything at all involving a ceremony where you and the prince had been proclaimed married. Surely, there must have been a mistake.

You cowered a little, stepping backward as discreetly as you can. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but it seems I have no idea of this certificate of which you speak.”

“Insolent child!” cried the Grand Duke. He was a stocky-looking man with a shock of blond hair that extended to his jaw and a moustache that twirled on its ends. There was something antagonistic about him. But then again, it was his niece the prince was promised to and he had every right to call you names for your ignorance of the matter.

“My apologies, Grand Duke,” you curtsied.

“Tell me your name once again, child,” commanded the king.

You stood again, keeping your head low in respect for the monarch and said your name.

“If you are who you say you are, then it must be you who signed this contract.” The king waved over a footman and took the scroll from him, unravelling it for you to see.

You looked it over and stopped as you saw the familiar scrawling of your name. It was definitely by your hand when you were six. It was a mess of letters but was discernible enough for them to read your name. Beside it was Prince Kit’s inscription, no better than yours but still enough to be recognized as the kingdom’s future monarch’s writing.

The wax seal between your names brought back a dormant memory.

You watched closely as your father, the king’s diplomat, pour hot wax on the lower part of the parchment. It was a rich blue with gold flecks, a symbol of your country’s opulence. You were always curious as to why he did that ritual of pouring wax and laying his ring on top of it after having both men sign the paper. You had asked him what it was for.

“It is a promise, Y/N,” your father had replied as he took off his signet ring and placed it sigil-down on the paper.

“Like friendship, papa?” you had asked in your small, excitable voice.

Your father had chuckled. “Of a sort. This paper is a memory of that friendship with our country and this country’s king.”

“Can I do it with my friends, papa?” You watched with curious eyes, taking note of the written contents on the piece of parchment even if you were unable to read. It was no matter; your papa will teach you. You were eager to employ this newfound knowledge and practice with your future friendships.

“Of course, mon petit. I shall have to teach you how to write your name so you can sign your promise.”

You had remembered the process. First, your father took a scroll from his sheaf of papers. He signed his name first, then the ambassador. They shook hands. Your father poured hot wax and placed his sigil on the promise then placed it on a different sheaf of papers.

Oh, no.

You recalled the moment. You had visited the palace with your father and he had let you play around the grounds while he conducted business with the king. You found the Prince Kit in the garden alone and approached him with the idea of trying out your newfound way of sealing friendships. You had not realized you plucked a marriage certificate from the Great Study, because, truly, all of your father’s contracts were one and the same and you had assumed as much for all the papers. You had innocently scrawled your name, taking good care in spelling it right as your father had told you. The prince had done the same and with your father’s signet, you sealed your—and the prince’s—fate.

“You recognize it then,” said the king as he snatched the offending paper away.

“Your Majesty—”

“You ambitious girl!” cried the Grand Duke once more and you shut your mouth immediately.

“Grand Duke.” There was a warning edge to the king’s tone. He turned to you once more. “You recognize this certificate.”

“It was not my intention to bind myself in marriage to the prince, Sir.” You swallowed. “My father introduced contracts to me as a way of keeping friendship. As a child of six, I did not know of diplomacy or the legitimacies of binding contracts nor the numerous different kinds of it. I only took the paper as I had assumed all were one and the same. I signed my name and had the prince sign his and stamped it with my father’s signet that he had me hold for safekeeping. I did not know that any agreement signed by the prince and sealed with the royal stamp would be legally binding even at so young an age.”

The silence that echoed in the throne room stretched on. Your boots scraped on the marble floor and you were once again reminded that you were not fit to be presented in front of the king. Women , even common folk, were expected to be in dresses and long skirts. You shunned the article of clothing whenever you were travelling the waters, finding breeches, shirts, and practical boots better than the full hoops of the skirt that often got in the way whenever you walked down the deck of the ship. The sailors were used to seeing you in this garb and did not find it offending at all that you were not dressed like a lady but to the eyes of the king and the Grand Duke and perhaps the many a footman you had passed before entering the throne room, you looked positively bohemian.

“We will keep you in the palace, Y/N,” said the king, which made you look up at him again.

Evidently, the news shocked the Grand Duke as well because he turned to the monarch.

“We will keep you in the palace until we find a solution to this impasse.”

“Of course, Sir,” you only muttered because what else was there to say?

“Surely, you understand the delicacy of this matter. I would not have you proclaiming to the people you are the new princess—or rather, had been their princess for near two decades already.”

You were affronted but you did not show it. You had no right to show indignation towards the king.

“In here, you are contained. You shall still be free to roam the palace grounds as you please but we will not have you out of it. If so, you shall have a chaperone and we would be informed of your itinerary.”

You merely nodded. You were a creature of adventure; the very notion of being confined within palace grounds was comparable to having your wings clipped. But you had started this problem, Y/N, and you must pay for your childish ignorance, you thought to yourself.

You were to set sail with your family again to meet with more foreign dignitaries. It had been your life; travelling from one kingdom to another. You had learned of cultures and languages, of food and dance, and everything it was that you could ever beheld. Your tiny kingdom was beautiful but the world beyond held more possibilities that you never once thought was within your grasp.

Oh, how you would have wanted to walk your father’s footsteps as the kingdom’s new diplomat. You learned from the best; your father had made you his apprentice and had taught you everything he knew of his trade. People still underestimated you. It was unheard of for someone from the fairer sex to be an ambassador, so you never truly tried. You only acted as an adviser to your father within the confines of his office walls, honing your innate talent of persuasion and diplomacy.

“Since I am common folk,” you started, not realizing that you had addressed the king before he addressed you. “Your Majesty, since I am common folk, my presence in the palace will arouse suspicion.”

“It is all being taken care of. My sister’s children will be arriving soon and you shall pose as a guest with them.” He nodded to himself, satisfied with his idea. “You were merely early in your arrival.”

“I would need my trunks with me, Your Majesty. I have arrived empty-handed.”

He looked you from your hair to your boots. “Are all your clothes thus?”

You straightened. “No, Sir. This is what I wear when I am travelling the seas. I do not find it practical to wear a skirt whilst I am on deck and the tides are high.”

“Ah, yes. You travel with your father as he is one of my diplomats. How is he?” He started making his way back to his throne.

“My father is well, I thank you for asking, Your Majesty.” You took a deep breath and watched him. You wiped your palms against your leather breeches.

“You shall send for a missive for your trunks. I cannot have you leaving the palace so soon after we have talked.”

You nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“You may go.”

You curtsied again. “My king,” you genuflected at the monarch before doing the same to the Grand Duke. “Your Grace.”

You stepped backwards, keeping the front of your body towards the king as you slowly went out of the throne room. Once the doors had closed, you blew out a sigh and straightened, only to knock against someone behind you. You turned and gasped, rooted in place.

It was the prince. Prince Kit with his dark hair and intense eyes. He had grown handsome over the years, which shouldn’t surprise you because his father had been a handsome man when he was younger. Kit—were you allowed to address him as Kit in your mind?—had a set look on his face, a bit reminiscent of his father’s gaze as he watched you. Broad of shoulder and fit of body, his muscled legs were encased in tight white breeches and his coat brought out the color of his eyes. They were as blue as the sea and as clear as the sky.

Your husband. What an absurd notion!

“Steady,” he said as he held you by your arms.

You swallowed. As much as you wanted to look away, you cannot. His gaze held you, searching your eyes and quite frankly, perhaps even your soul. Even if you had nothing to hide, you were scared of the things he would find there. Like the matter of you being bound to him in marriage.

Your heart skipped a beat. It had nothing to do with you being nervous at him finding out about your accidental ploy of being married to him but more with the fact that you had never been looked at like how he was looking at you before. Your appearance was unkempt and you had not been able to properly re-braid your hair but something about his stare made you feel like you were much more beautiful than you truly look. He made you feel emotions not even the best of the world could offer and for the life of you, you didn’t know why.

Your knees buckled and you bent down in an ungraceful curtsy. “Your Highness,” you said with a shaky breath. “My apologies.”

“Ah, Kit! I thought the hunt would have run you ragged.” You heard the king as the door opened.

You felt someone grasp at your arm to pull you to your full height and away from the king and the prince. You looked at the prince once more, only to find him looking back at you as well.

Kit was, for all intents and purposes, an apprentice. His whole life he was schooled to be the next king of his father’s kingdom. He was taught to be a soldier to know of battle strategies. He had masters who taught him philosophies and history. He was knowledgeable in at least three languages because his parents had insisted he learn two more so he can converse with more people. He was, essentially, an apprentice monarch. And a king, even one still learning the trade, needed a queen.

Which brought him to the matter at hand. His father had promised his hand to the Grand Duke’s niece, a princess from Zaragoza. He had never met her before and was only sent a portrait that he and his father had looked at and deemed her beautiful. Her country was bountiful and their little territory needed to expand its borders. Marrying a princess from a rich country was the correct step in ensuring the best for the kingdom. It was what his father had done when he married Kit’s mother. It was fortunate that his parents had fallen in love despite the circumstances of how they met.

“I was not aware the Princess Chelina is arriving today,” Kit asked as he pried his eyes away from your retreating figure.

It was unusual for him to see a princess not in their finest clothes , either, especially one from a country that was advertised to him as bountiful and rich. He had no qualms, however, about seeing you in such a state. Clad in what was most likely your undergarments, you were a small person than what your portrait let on. You came only until his nose and even then, you still seemed tinier. Your legs were enclosed in buckskin leather, much like his own when he went hunting, and it made him wonder if maybe you hunted as well. You wore a dress shirt that was tucked in the waistband of your breeches and it accentuated your rounded hips. You wore none of those heeled shoes he knew ladies favored. Instead, you feet were clad in flat boots that went up to your knees and showcased your perfect calves. Albeit you were dressed inappropriately, it did not escape him that you were dressed practically. And sensually, he thought to himself.

You were beautiful in your portrait but in person, you were exquisite. The painter failed to capture the smattering of freckles across your nose or the hints of lightness on your hair. There was a small scar on the side of your cheek that he did not notice when he beheld your picture; perhaps the painter found it wise to not include the blemish lest it deterred him from making an offer of marriage to you, even if it was not his idea to be wed to you.

“Heavens, no. I would never associate myself with that–that thing.” The Grand Duke said, looking at your back in what could only be termed as disgust.

Kit raised a brow. So, you were not the princess. “I would assume that thing would have a name and a purpose?” He looked over at his father. “Father?”

“Walk with me, boy,” was all the king said. “Thank you, Grand Duke. We do not need you in this talk.”

Kit followed his father down the Hall of Portraits. He remembered his lessons of his family’s history, of the important people who had changed the laws and lives of many. King Alphonse. Queen Mariam. Queen Amalie, his mother. He knew it best not to dwell on his mother’s untimely death around his father, who he knew was still mourning her. She had left them so suddenly and they both had not been the same ever since. It did, however, brought them closer.

“Kit,” his father started as they arrived in the garden. “There is a matter I wish for you to know.”

Rarely did his father venture this far into the garden. His mother had kept a small alcove for her personal use, locked away but still kept clean by the royal gardener. Kit often went there when he needed a time for himself. His father did not.

“Yes, father?” Kit asked, watching his father closely as he sat.

“You are promised to Princess Chelina,” he said, to which Kit nodded. “But there is a small matter we must address before you wed her.”

He raised a brow. “Does she not want to be wed?”

“She wishes to be wed to you, Kit. However, we find ourselves at a loss for something you have done twenty years ago.” He patted the space beside him at the bench and Kit sat.

Twenty years ago? He would have been eight by then.

“Are we bringing up old sins, father? Because if we are, I do not remember what I had done at eight years old that would bear remembering.”

“My boy,” the king clasped his son on the shoulder. It was a fatherly touch but also that of a king, a touch that brooked no argument.

“You are already married.”

Kit frowned. Married? Surely, he has not signed anything akin to a marriage agreement.

“Married? I don’t remember meeting the Princess Chelina or signing a marriage contract.”

“It is because you are not married to the Princess of Zaragoza.” The king sighed wistfully. “You had been married for two decades, Kit.”

“Father, I must ask you to speak plainly. I’m married for two decades? And not to the Princess Chelina? Then who am I married to?”

“My boy.” The king looked over at one of the many rooms of the palace. Kit followed the line of his sight and found that he was staring at you. You, in your unusual clothes, watching the sea from your room.

“You have been married to a commoner, to Y/N Y/L/N, since you were eight.”

Y/N. The name sounded familiar to him. And then he knew. He remembered; the girl he had invited inside his mother’s secret garden and had played with under his favorite tree. You had brought a paper to him—a promise of friendship, you had said—and he signed it with no hesitation.

“Y/N is that girl you thought was the Princess Chelina, my boy. And she is your wife.”

He looked at the lone figure inside the palace again.

He was married to you.