Location: The Training Grounds of Eldoria
Date: The Morning After the Banquet
Time: Just Before Sunrise
Lucian Valemont was having the worst morning of his life.
First, he'd barely slept. Why? Because he spent half the night trying to calm the King, who was one heartbeat away from strangling his own daughter.
Second, the Princess—his responsibility—had once again proven that she was not only reckless but utterly immune to basic self-preservation. What kind of lunatic threatened a noble lord in front of half the kingdom? Eva did. That's who.
And third?
She was here. In his training grounds.
"Higher, lad! Swing like you mean it!"
The sound of clashing steel rang through the morning air as knights-in-training sparred in the courtyard. The scent of sweat, dust, and slightly burnt bread from the kitchen wafted through the castle grounds.
Lucian took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and tried to shake off the stress. This was his sanctuary. His place of peace. The one part of his life where chaos did not reign—
"LUCIAN!"
He went rigid. Slowly, as if dreading what he would see, he turned.
And there she was.
Evangeline.
The royal menace.
Wearing trousers.
He blinked. Once. Twice.
Yep. Still there.
Eva stood at the entrance of the training grounds, hands on her hips, grinning like she had just won a war. She was dressed in loose-fitting black trousers and a white tunic that looked far too expensive for training. Her boots—clearly new—were spotless.
Lucian felt something inside him snap.
He strode towards her, voice dangerously low. "What. Are. You. Wearing."
Eva held out her arms. "Oh, these old things? Just something I found in the wardrobe."
"That—" Lucian inhaled sharply. "That is a stable boy's uniform!"
Eva beamed. "So that's why it smelled like hay!"
Several knights-in-training had stopped their sparring to watch. One of them—a young red-haired squire named Finn—whispered, "This is going to be good."
Lucian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why are you here, Your Highness?"
Eva clapped her hands together. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because someone got me banned from leaving the palace after last night's banquet?"
Lucian crossed his arms. "That 'someone' was the King."
"Yes, but I can't yell at my father, so congratulations! You're my new problem."
Lucian exhaled slowly. "You are always my problem."
"Touché."
At this point, the entire training ground was watching. Sir Edgar, still recovering from last night's near-choking incident, leaned against the barracks with his arms crossed, grinning like this was the best entertainment he'd had all year.
Lucian turned back to Eva. "You still haven't answered my question."
Eva tilted her head. "Oh! Right. I'm here to train."
Lucian blinked. "You? Train?"
"Yes."
"You?"
"Yes."
"You?"
"Okay, you're just being rude now."
Lucian stared at her for a long moment, then burst out laughing.
It wasn't a polite, nobleman's laugh. It wasn't even a composed knight's chuckle. No, this was full-on, wheeze-worthy laughter, the kind that made his ribs ache.
Eva frowned. "Are you quite done?"
Lucian wiped a tear from his eye. "You—training? You can barely sit properly in a dress. And now you want to wield a sword?"
Eva huffed. "I'll have you know, I have excellent aim."
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "The last time you tried throwing something, it was a goblet—at Lord Magnus."
"And I hit him!"
"Yes. In the shoulder. You were aiming for his head."
Eva scowled. "Details."
Lucian rubbed his temples. "Eva, listen to me. Training is not a game. It's grueling, painful, and requires discipline."
"Sounds awful," Eva said cheerfully. "Where do I start?"
Lucian gave her a long, hard look. "Fine. You want to train? We'll start with running. Five laps around the courtyard."
"Easy."
"And by 'laps,' I mean full laps. No shortcuts. No cheating. If I catch you once—"
"Yeah, yeah," Eva waved a hand. "I get it. 'Follow orders, don't be reckless, blah blah blah.'"
Lucian smirked. "Exactly."
And so, the Princess of Eldoria ran.
Or, well… attempted to.
The first lap went surprisingly well. She jogged with determination, her blonde hair bouncing behind her. The second lap? Slower. By the third, she was gasping. By the fourth, she was dramatically clutching her chest.
By the fifth?
She collapsed face-first into the dirt.
Lucian walked over, standing above her with a smirk. "You were saying?"
Eva groaned into the ground. "I think I saw heaven for a second."
Finn, the red-haired squire, muttered, "That was the most painful thing I've ever watched."
Sir Edgar crossed his arms. "I give her credit for making it this far."
Another knight, a burly man named Gareth, nudged Lucian. "Should we tell her we usually run ten laps?"
Lucian grinned. "Let's save that for tomorrow."
Eva groaned again. "I hate you all."
Lucian extended a hand. "Come on, Your Highness."
Eva looked at his hand, then at him, then back at his hand. Slowly, she reached up—
And yanked Lucian down into the dirt beside her.
Gasps. Then silence. Then—
Sir Edgar doubled over in laughter. Finn actually fell to the ground. Gareth was wheezing.
Lucian blinked up at the sky, then turned his head slowly to Eva, who was grinning like a cat who just knocked a vase off a table.
"That," she said smugly, "was for laughing at me earlier."
Lucian exhaled sharply. "Oh, Princess. You have made a mistake."
Eva barely had time to react before Lucian grabbed her by the waist, hauled her up effortlessly, and dropped her—straight into a horse trough filled with water.
SPLASH.
The entire training ground erupted. Knights clapped. Squires cheered. Sir Edgar was on his knees, howling.
Eva emerged from the water, drenched, sputtering. "You—YOU—!"
Lucian leaned against his sword, smirking. "Lesson one, Princess. Actions have consequences."
Eva narrowed her eyes. "Oh, you are so dead."
"Looking forward to it".