As is Oreian custom, when a Knight of the Kingsguard is appointed, there is a party thrown in his honor. Of course, the fallen brethren he is replacing is just as celebrated. His life; his sacrifice to the Crown.

The man I had supplanted had become ill, likely a result of old age. Nothing but a fever was present upon his condition at the time he passed, I'm told. Sometimes I've asked myself, was it chance or fate? But he didn't suffer; he didn't die in battle. I just got lucky, though at his expense.

Given that there are, at any time, a hundred to two hundred of us Blades across the Empire, the significance of making an elite squad of twenty-five, and in the adolescence of your career, is truly devastating. But in the best of ways.

Whichever influence you believe, I am, to this day, the youngest Knight to be appointed to the Guard. Also the youngest to be promoted to Lord Commander. There was never any question that I had earned the right from me, but it was always a possibility, I was aware, that given my uncle's favor with His Majesty, others would not be so quick to agree.

I worried often if I would fit in. The next soldier in age was five years my senior. After that eleven. I was closer in maturity to the squires! I had been a squire sooner than not.

But still, I tried to maintain a sense of decorum about myself. I watched the party from as close to the wall as I could remain, that is, between the times Uncle would drag me off to meet another aristocrat, or Lady. More than one Lady; he was intent on making a match for me.

We Dalton boys were never raised to be scoundrels. We were a polite sort, so the idea of wielding this armor around as a lure for the common jezebel was not something my uncle would ever understand, let alone allow. These were strictly social introductions. It's not that I did not enjoy the company of these girls, fawning over my blade, it was that... Well, years of focusing only on my craft had marked me shy.

When the Queen had finally come to congratulate me, I was tragically intimidated. It was no secret to myself that I was attracted to her. When I tell you she was beautiful, I don't mean that she was pleasing to look at, I mean that out of all the women in the Empire, every face I had ever passed upon the street or invented in my dreams, she was the only one I could remember while in her presence. She was... She was glorious.

I'd mistaken the sensation for reverence for my monarch. It was love.

Naturally, no sooner than I had quelled my nerves enough to greet her properly, she met me with an indifferent stare. I know now that she was in what my uncle would one day refer to as 'a low,' but at the time...

"Oi, Ser Elías had so many of the lasses aft'r him tonight, don't ya know?" one of the squires called within the barracks, our point of refuge after the party. "Surprised he didn't take a few back here for a proper welcome, eh?"

I hid my grin, more likely my blush, as I gathered my things for bed.

The barracks were a loud, rowdy place to call home, but in pursuit of earning the respect of my peers, I did not wish to house myself within Ser Dalton's manor off-site. I opted to stay with the other Blades; some of the squires, in the Knights Quarters, the facility attached to the back of the castle.

There were bunks inside this Hell hole, and as the new guy, I was bestowed the bottom of my assigned bed. The mate above me was the next youngest, we called him Linen, though I did not know why, and I wasn't confident enough to ask. All I knew was that Linen was happy to finally not be me, and he was happy to sleep up top.

"Right ya are," someone else remarked. "He's got a bit of rosiness to those cheeks, too. He agrees, I think. Perhaps you want to go find someone after all? We won't wait up!"

Linen nudged my arm. "Oh, they're just razzing you, Eli. Though you are quite pretty." A wry look about him was born. "Oi," he sang back into the others. "What should we call 'im then?"

"I don't need a nickname," I said, straightening the sheet. "Elías is fine. Eli even."

"No, no," Linen teased. "No, something else. Something good. What about... Chamber Spice? Or just Candy?"

"I like Candy, I do," another proclaimed.

"Candy?" I asked. "Come, Elías is fine."

"You come, Candy. Don't you like it? It's fitting with what a delicacy you are amongst the ladies. Look at his grin," he laughed. "Candy knows what we're talking about. Too 'honorable;'" he said that word while impersonating my uncle, "to discuss the company he has known!"

"—Now!" But before I could defend myself to the boy, another voice cut us off.

The room fell silent as Ser Dalton walked deeper into the barracks. His second in command; a middle-aged man named Ser Erik, by his side. "Was that supposed to be me?" he asked the squire.

The lad shook his head, eyes wide.

Dalton nodded, but still sentenced him to fetching logs for the fire, an order in which the boy immediately got to.

My uncle eyed me. "How was the party? I lost you after the second half."

I hadn't had it in me to tell him I had ducked out on my own fête to read back here. "Grand," I lied. "Very well put together. I am humbled by the circumstance." I hid my book under the pillow.

"Aye," he said. "And what of your assignment? You understand that the Queen's detail is where all of us begin our days?"

"Aye, I do." I peeked at Linen who had suddenly become too interested in folding his laundry. "I would ask that no favors are put in my way in regards to details. I am happy to serve wherever it is the King would place me, Ser."

"Yes, yes." He looked around us. "No need to be so formal, not even Linen must address me as Ser when we are Barrackside. Then you are excited to start?"

"Sure," I relaxed. "Though I am not so certain she is happy to have me."

Dalton's face didn't move. He was always too in control of his emotions to show them. "Oh?"

"Aye. At the party, she said hello to me with such disdain that–"

"—You'll do well to remember that is the Queen you're speaking of. His Majesty's wife."

My stomach sank, but I didn't correct it. I paused.

"You'll find Her Majesty is a unique woman," Erik said.

"A way to put it," Linen muttered. I heeded his quiet warning as he was on her team himself.

With both Dalton's and Erik's attention, Linen shut up.

"She's kind," Uncle said and Erik agreed as another one of her pawns. "You'll see. But she is not built like the rest of us. She has her highs. And her lows. And there is no bridge between them."

I wasn't sure what he meant, but the majority of youth is best spent keeping one's mouth closed and their ears open. "Yes, Ser," I said. "Uncle."

The smirk returned to the corners of his mouth and he boastfully clapped his hand over my shoulder. "I am proud of you, Candy."

My lips parted, and then with only the hint of the recognition of humor, he added. "It's quite fetching for a name, I dare say. Good night, boys. Don't let him fuck up tomorrow."

In the morning, I was already patrolling the halls before the sun had risen. Uncle had suggested that Her Majesty suffered from both highs and lows, and if last night was a low, I would never seek to disappoint her within it. I was determined to do well, my strife to prove myself, never asleep.

I only saw her once that week, and later in it, in the middle of the day. She was at the far end of the corridor speaking to her lady's maid, Cory, as I had heard her called. Though I could not make out what words had been exchanged, I did see Eliza touch the woman's arm, and gently. She offered her something that was wrapped within a crinkly sheet of paper; the kind I'd seen used at Christmas, and, when the other had opened it, I saw that it was chocolate.

Chocolate.

Tiny square treats that were likely too expensive to be shared.

Such an odd offering, that I found myself revisiting the memory of the Queen and her maid properly devouring the treat together, still, a day later. While I was training, no less.

I thought of every stolen moment those two must have shared over the years of Cory's service, and I wondered if Eliza was that nice to anyone else among the staff.

Uncle had called her kind. She had to earn that reputation somehow.

And that investigation ventured me further into the realm of thinking thoughts that abandoned Coraline all together. Soon it was just Her Majesty. Just her smile.

I was completely entranced by it, and completely convinced that hers was the only real smile I had ever actually seen. Somehow the wide grins of Oreian sheep– Sorry; a word we use for common folk– felt dull and uninviting.

Nothing compared to Her Majesty's, or the perfect image of her standing in front of stained glass.

'She's a married woman, you snake,' I'd scolded myself. 'She doesn't even know or care for your name. She is your Queen and a sure-fire way to lose your entire career and life is to sniff around her chocolates.'

Chocolates. I had shocked myself with that innuendo.

But the forced reminder did work.

For a time.

In the week after, I was lying in my bed. I was staring at the design of Linen's mattress, I could see it through the wooden slats of the frame. It had been a long day. Training was always difficult, but with the changing atmosphere of relations with Chalke, there were whispers of a brewing war. That meant Ser Dalton subjected us to even more rigorous tasks.

I was tired. Exhausted even, and I felt it as my mind drifted, but I had no ability to stop it this time.

It wasn't sinister. I just wondered when I might see the Queen next. An innocent idea that must have bled into the ether from my mind, manifesting my answer by dawn, when Uncle summoned me to the King's study.

"Ser Elías, Your Majesty," he sang as I came in.

"Your Majesty," I went to kneel, but was encouraged not to. My heart beat like a drum standing in his room.

"Spin around for me, boy," the King said. His finger danced a circle in front of him.

I glanced at my uncle who only offered a weak nod, so I completed the request.

"You're a strong-looking sort," His Majesty continued, eyes raking me. "Though I suppose all of you ought to be." He and Uncle Dalton shared a look. "You don't think he's too young? Too pretty?"

"I do not," he replied. "I think over age, he is someone we can trust."

"Trust?" My interruption was ignored.

"My sister's son; he is very sharp. Always aware of his surroundings, better with a blade. He is my blood, yes, but I suggest him for a deeper level. For his loyalty," Uncle said. "He's wanted to be a knight since four; he's been true to that path since ten."

"I see," the King nodded. "...Do as you see fit. I trust your instinct."

Uncle bobbed his head once, and stately, and then he was leading me out the door and into the corridor.

"What was that about?" I asked, lowering my voice. "Why did I just twirl for His Majesty?"

"Walk with me" the command was. "Effective immediately you are assigned to Her Majesty as her personal guard."

"I— What?! I don't under–"

"You're not to understand. Just do. Never report to her chamber, ever. Instead, you'll meet her at the Library. Wait outside until she or Cory are ready. They'll fetch you to begin the day. You'll escort her to and from the Capitol or whatever Lady's house she is to attend for tea, lunch, whatever it is they do–"

A roaming maid passing us blushed as she approached. We locked eyes even as she went by, a smile hinting at my cheeks.

"Hello," I grinned. She snickered.

"Elías," Dalton croaked. "Are you listening?"

"I don't understand," I was finally able to say, despite its futility. "What happened to Ser Erik?"

"Ser Erik sustained a severe injury sometime last night, while practicing for the games."

"Injury?" I scoffed. "What kind of injury?"

"Jousting related, I'm told."

"Jousting? At night? Why in all of God's name, would he—?"

Ser Dalton stopped, urging me to do the same. "What is the last instruction you heard?"

"Uh," I racked my brain for it. "Uh, wait outside her chamber door?"

"No," he said. "You are to wait in the Library. For Cory or Her Majesty to start the day. You'll escort her to and from the Capitol or–"

"Yes, yes, I did hear that. For tea. Tedious tasks. Babysitting."

"Never," he hissed. "Never refer to Her Majesty as an infant again."

"I didn't mean–"

"Elías." He looked at me sternly. "I have put my neck on the line for you here–"

"—I specifically asked that no opportunity be–"

"It's not a special opportunity. We of the Kingsguard serve as one, together or nothing. You being appointed to the Queen's immediate protection is not an act of influence of your ties. It's because you are truly the best man for the job."

"Watching a queen requires a special man?"

"Aye," he agreed. "So very true."

"While flattered, I don't think I can agree with you. I've been here less than a month. Surely Linen? Or–?"

"Linen would struggle to pour sugar out of a boot if the instructions were written on the sole of it," he cracked. "Trust me–"

"—Hmph." A woman's sneer cut into us. "Dalton, love. This is who you've replaced our Erik with?"

I turned, dropping to my knee.

She buzzed. "Oh, save yourself the energy, Blade. Enough."

Uncle gestured between us. "Your Majesty, Ser Elías. My nephew. And no, he hasn't taken all of Erik's role yet. I'm afraid some parts will fall onto me."

"I see." Her lips formed a line. She was back to her dullness. "And why should I trust this Knight with my life? He's barely not a squire. Surely he is too green?"

"I assure you, Elías is the best of the best. He is a gifted sword–"

"Ser Erik was a gifted swordsmen," she said. "He would've won the Games. Had he not been hurt."

"...I do belie–"

The Queen divided my retort. "I don't like him," she frowned, remaining in her spar with Dalton. "He's too timid. Look at that, I completely severed his sentence, and not a word of it."

"You haven't even given me a chance to speak," I said.

My uncle might have slapped me upside the head had he been closer, but his fiery eyes were enough to send the message.

"Apologies, Your Majesty," I said. "I just mean to say, that I am, as rumor would suggest..." I stood taller. "Capable to do my job. I will die ten-thousand ways before I fail you, I–"

"Oh no," she whined. "A thespian, too, as it would appear. You intend to punish me, Ser Dalton?"

"Your pardon?" I bit.

"You're dramatic," she explained, striking every consonant.

My uncle stepped between us, but with the Queen still a moment from me, I could hear the gist of what they muttered to each other, though it was hushed.

"Elías is young, but he is strong. He is loyal, and His Majesty has approved the order. I beg you, give him a chance."

"A chance?" She shrugged. "Ser Erik was my only bet in the Games. Perhaps if you could convince your squire to replace him, I would consider that a formal audition of his worth?"

Dalton nodded.

"I'm sorry?" I held my hand up. "Are you suggesting I am to enlist into the Knights' Games?" I asked. "I haven't competed in those since I was fifteen, and as an aid. Everyone knows Kingsguard Knights don't have to compete until their third year, per risk of injury. Ser Erik was well seasoned and he—"

"—There's no rule that says that," she spat.

"No rule, but–" I couldn't finish the thought.

"Your uncle seems to have approved your application."

"What application? I've been standing right here," I moaned. "I haven't signed anything!"

The right half of Eliza's face moved, but whether it was out of frustration, irritation, or something else– perhaps humor, I never knew. She blinked dismissively.

"Surely you do not want me to think you've only been allowed the honor of being my primary because your uncle is my beloved husband's favorite Knight?"

"Never," I said. "But I–"

"Yes. That would be a nasty rumor to spread," she added. "But you'll compete in the Games and prove everyone wrong anyhow. Right? And as a bonus, if you're not seriously wounded, I might even win my wagers back. Seems the only way to please us both. Yes?"

They were waiting for my response. Finally, I relented. "You humble me, Your Majesty. It would be an honor to compete for you." My words were sarcastic at best, but they had at the very least, doused the argument.

"I know this, Blade."

With that, Eliza was off into the corridor and headed around another corner. Her dress trailed after her like a fox's tail, somehow emphasizing whatever coyness she thought she possessed. I bit my jaw, glaring at Ser Dalton.

"And if I get hurt?" I asked him. "If I Ser Erik myself?"

"My advice would be to not."

"It is a valid fear!"

"The Queen commands it; you do it. It is beyond my job to consider your fear, only remind you that fear is the enemy. Mind over matter; you are well prepared for anything, especially a game. Unless you are implying I've done a piss-poor job of training you?"

"I'm implying I—"

"Are you coming, Knight?" Eliza called.

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