Chapter Text
“Mother, please.”
“Don’t, Yasmin. Today, I am allowed to fuss as much as I like.”
With a sigh, Yasmin sunk into the chair, her mother eagerly lifting a brush behind her. If there was anything she hated, it was someone touching her hair, but today, she had to relent. Besides it being arguably the most important day in her life so far, it was also the last time she would get to see her parents in a while.
“Stop moving around so much”, her mother chided, and Yasmin tried to force herself to sit still. She was usually quite composed, but today she found herself wringing her hands and shifting back and forth in her chair, seemingly unable to control her own movements. Her eyes kept darting to the other side of the room, where, on the old, wooden kitchen table, her new armor was laid out.
Each piece was shining bright, even in the dusty air of the kitchen - Yasmin had spent the previous night polishing them until everything was to her satisfaction. The most elegant materials she had ever seen formed the Upper and Lower Cannon - the arm guards - as well as the Greave and Cuisse - the leg guards. The gauntlets she was to wear had golden inlays, something her sister had spent the last three days marvelling at every chance she got. Yasmin’s favorite piece however, was the Cuirasse: an elegant breastplate adorned by the royal house’s motto in golden inlays. It was written in the language of the nobles of the land, which Yasmin had received basic instruction in over the last couple of weeks. She still had trouble keeping up with all the swirling circles, so different from the letters of Common she had learned as a child, but she knew enough to read the words on her breastplate:
Never cruel or cowardly.
Over it, she would wear a Gorget, a protective collar that she wasn’t too fond of. She hadn’t had one of those on her old armour and was already worried about the restrictiveness of it. Her shoulders would be adorned by quite simple spaulders, but those would not be seen most of the time, covered as they would be: next to the kitchen table, her mother had hung her cloak, of the deepest blue Yasmin had ever seen. The day it had been delivered, Yasmin had gasped as her fingers had grazed over it for the very first time. The softness of the cloth alone spoke of a value that Yasmin could only dream of, but the dark blue dye made the riches of the people who had commissioned it even more evident. No commoner could afford to wear blue.
“Done”, her mother finally spoke, and Yasmin jumped out of the chair, her dark brown hair now neatly tucked into a bun. As she turned around, she noticed the slight look of sadness, hidden behind her mother’s enthusiasm, and guilt settled in her stomach.
Before she could say anything, however, her father entered the kitchen, and Yasmin’s mother frowned.
“Shouldn’t you be minding the shop?” she asked, but he waved her off.
“Sonya is taking care of that for a little bit. I wanted to spend some time with our girl before they come and pick her up.”
Yasmin groaned. “I’m not a girl anymore”, she mumbled.
“Right, right”, he replied, scratching the back of his head.
The three of them stood awkwardly for a moment, none of them sure what to do now. Yasmin’s parents had reacted with so much joy when she had told them of her new appointment; her father had jumped up from the dinner table, picking Yasmin up and twirling her around like he had done when she had been a little girl, and her mother had cried tears of joy. But in that moment of surprise, all of them had almost forgotten what it would ultimately mean: that Yasmin would move away, potentially for good.
Now, the look in her parents’ eyes was a mix of the joy and pride of that first day, as well as the sadness that had settled between them in the following weeks. Yasmin didn’t know how to handle it all, she had never been good with these kinds of situations. She remembered her first day as a city guard, then, and finally, she had an idea.
“Would you”, she began, walking towards the table with her armour laid out on it. She stopped, turning around to look at her parents once more. “Would you help me put on my armour?”
When both her parents’ faces lit up, she knew she had done the right thing. They hurried over immediately, looking over the shining pieces.
“Right”, her father said. “What first?”
Yasmin’s old armour had been much simpler, and at the end, she was glad that they were three heads figuring it all out together. Once her mother had fixed the clasps of the cloak over her shoulders, her father went to get her sword from her room.
When he returned, however, he wasn’t holding the sword Yasmin had been using during her time at the city guard.
This sword was in a sheathed in fine leather, and the hilt was of elegant craftsmanship, the pommel adorned by the relief of a lion’s head.
“Father”, she breathed as he handed it to her. “What…?”
He smiled, his eyes watery, as he looked over to her mother.
“We are very proud of you, Yasmin”, he finally said. “And this is to show you that.”
At a loss for words, Yasmin took the sword in her hands, and carefully unsheathed it. It was perfectly weighted in her hand, and gleamed in the light, an inscription on the blade becoming visible. As Yasmin read the words, she felt the tears begin to sting in her own eyes.
I carry them with me.
She carefully sheathed the weapon, and then, without a pause, pulled both of her parents into a hug.
“Thank you”, she said, trying not to let the tears fall down her cheeks. One escaped, however, but Yasmin decided that the occasion warranted it. When she finally pulled back, a knock on the door rang through their small home.
“Royal Guard!” a voice sounded from outside.
Her parents took a step back, nodding.
“Tell Sonya that she’s a pain in the ass”, Yasmin said, giving a lopsided smile. Her mother threw her a chiding look, but her father smiled knowingly. Yasmin had said her goodbyes to her little sister the night before. She had sat at her bed, waiting for the younger woman to admit that she wasn’t asleep yet. When she finally did, she had simply sat up and pulled Yasmin into a hug. No words had been needed in that moment.
She fixed her new sword to her belt, and took a deep breath.
“I will write”, she said, and her parents nodded.
“As will we”, her mother replied.
“And I will send you a part of my wages”, Yasmin added.
At that, her mother frowned, but before she could protest, Yasmin continued:
“I will. You deserve it.”
Flexing her hands in her gauntlets, the weight of them still unfamiliar, she walked towards the door. She liked the feeling of a cloak moving behind her - she had been worried about the pompousness of it all initially, but now she had to admit that it made her feel quite confident in fact.
Her hand on the door, she turned around one final time, smiling.
“I love you”, she said, and then she walked out the door.
---
The Guard who had picked her up was not much older than Yasmin, to her surprise. He was a bit taller than her, with darker skin and kind brown eyes.
“Ryan”, he introduced himself as soon as they had sat down in the carriage that had been waiting outside.
Yasmin nodded politely in return. “Yasmin, my Lord”, she replied.
At that, Ryan let out a chuckle, and Yasmin felt embarrassment and a bit of anger towards herself. It had taken her mere minutes to misstep. That was a new record.
“I’m sorry”, Ryan finally said as he noticed her discomfort. “It’s just, members of the Royal Guard don’t address each other with honourifics. Besides, like everyone else, I gave up my titles when I became a Guard, so if anything, it would be Sir. But simply Ryan is more than enough. You’re a part of this now.”
And with those words, he smiled such a kind smile that Yasmin felt her embarrassment slowly seep away. Right. She was a part of this now. “Well then”, she said, “It’s Yaz.”
“Nice to meet you, Yaz.”
She realised for the first time, then, that people outside of the Guard would no longer be allowed to simply address her by her first name. After her initiation ceremony at the end of the month, she would be Dame Yasmin of the Royal Guard to everyone but her own family.
“Oh”, Ryan suddenly said, and Yasmin was pulled out of her thoughts. “I forgot to say, the Lord Protector is the obvious exception. No first names, there.”
Yasmin nodded. The Lord Protector was the head of the Royal Guard, and Yasmin had heard many stories about him. An imposing knight, he had saved the King’s life not once, but twice, or so word on the streets had it. The first time, he had apparently been nothing more than an initiate, what Yasmin was to be for the weeks ahead. The stories told of the knight taking the bolt of a crossbow to his arm that had been meant for the King. His arm had been gravely injured, and people said that the King had gifted him a golden armguard to express his gratitude, and to show everybody else the bravery of this knight.
As they drove onto the palace grounds, Yasmin felt her palms begin to sweat, and her throat went dry. Ryan must have noticed her sudden nervousness, because he leaned over, putting a friendly hand on her arm.
“Hey there”, he spoke softly. “You’ll be alright. Princess duty, right? She’s quite alright, from what I can tell.”
At that, Yasmin’s ears perked up. “You guard the Princess?”
He nodded, puffing out his chest. “Got selected a couple of weeks ago. I used to just be on general palace duty. Speaking of which, how did you get yourself straight to the Princess Guard? Usually you have to do a couple of years of general palace duty first. I mean, I did, too, even though -” He suddenly stopped there, as if he had realised he was about to say something he wasn’t supposed to. Yasmin caught up on it, and lifted an eyebrow at him.
“Anyway”, he said, clearing his throat as he avoided her gaze. “Here we are!”
Yasmin hadn’t even noticed the carriage coming to a halt, and now that she looked out, her breath caught in her throat.
The palace was even more gorgeous up close than it was viewed from the city. A large tower stood, gleaming golden in the sun, surrounded by many more smaller towers, some of the ones farther away curiously bending towards the centre. It was imposing, terrifying and beautiful all at the same time.
Somebody opened the carriage door, and Yasmin stepped outside, the light that reflected off the towers briefly blinding her.
“You’ll get used to that”, Ryan said next to her, and she dropped the hand she had protectively put over her eyes.
“This way”, he continued, and she followed him into one of the side towers. They ran into some of the palace staff on the way, who stopped what they were doing to stand against the walls, making space for them as they gave a brief bow. It made Yasmin’s cheeks burn to suddenly have this kind of respect shown towards her. As a city guard, especially as a female one, she more often than not had had to deal with people disrespecting her position. The sudden change was both welcome and slightly awkward.
She followed Ryan up a couple of flights of stairs, until he stopped at the beginning of what seemed to be a longer corridor, bending around the corner.
“This is where we sleep”, he said as he began walking past the doors. He pointed at one of them in passing, and smiled. “That’s me.”
A few doors further down the hall, he stopped, and reached out to open the door in front of them.
“And that’s you.”
Yasmin glanced past him into the chamber. It was simple, but it had everything one would need. A bed, a table and chair, and a second, smaller table, holding a bowl of water and a towel. There even was a bust to hang her armor on when she wasn’t wearing it.
“I’ll be in my room”, Ryan said. “I have the rest of the afternoon off. The Lord Protector will come and see you in an hour or so I have been told, and escort you to your first training unit.”
“Alright”, Yasmin replied, feeling the nervousness flare up in her chest once again.
“Come knock on my door if there’s anything you need”, Ryan said. “Although”, he added, a sheepish look on his face. “I might be asleep.”
He left her alone then, closing the door behind him, and Yasmin stood in her new room, unsure of what to do next.
One hour.
An image flashed through her mind, of blonde hair and hazel eyes, the stars reflected in them.
“Thank you.”
As Yasmin sat on her bed, her gauntlets lying next to her and her hands clasped tightly together, her heart was racing in her chest at the mere thought of hearing that soft voice once again.