123A/N: I wonder if anyone is into Wild Force anymore. But whatever, I love it and I love Princess Shayla/Merrick. She shouldn't have let him go in the end. If she was immortal or something, surely he was as well? Anyway, this is a fanfiction written simply because I love that pairing so much. AU.
Virgin here means unmarried, guys, as it used to mean originally, so don't go thinking I'm dirty lol.
Princess Shayla woke up to the sun shining brightly at her through the window. She smiled and got off her bed, walking over to her wardrobe. Today was the day her father, King Animus, would choose a full-time protector for her. Of course, she already had an idea of who she wanted. Him. Her childhood friend, the one who held her heart. He was one of the six most trusted warriors, so he had a chance. Or rather she had a chance.
There was a knock on her door.
In walked Dames Taylor Earhardt and Alyssa Enrile, two of the six contenders for the honoured position. Princess Shayla looked at them in surprise as they curtsied, a somewhat odd sight given their armour, having expected her lady-in-waiting. That said, as daughters of the nobility, the pair had been amongst the Princess' very first ladies-in-waiting, only leaving her three years ago to become warriors. The Princess had been sad to see her companions go, but to this day they remained the only two female warriors to have risen to the elite ranks, and she trusted them with her life.
"Princess, what have you been doing?" Taylor asked, taking in Princess Shayla's apparel. "Why are you not yet ready?"
As if on cue, Dame Delgado, the Princess' chief lady-in-waiting, rushed into the chamber, muttering a slew of apologies. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of her girlhood companions, red patches appearing on her cheeks, then politely acknowledged them before continuing on her way to her mistress.
"My apologies, Princess," she said again, sweeping into a deep curtsey. "I was... waylaid on the way here."
Alyssa and Taylor exchanged knowing looks, knowing quite who had waylaid sweet Kendall and why. Princess Shayla knew this too, so dismissively waved a hand at her distressed lady. "Do not worry Ken. In any case, I have just woken up now..."
"Well, you had better hurry up, Princess," Alyssa said, speaking for the first time since entering the chamber. A shy girl of eighteen years, she rarely spoke without purpose. "The King will not be best pleased if you are late for your own ceremony."
Taylor nodded. A couple of years older than her comrade, here was a woman who spoke her mind whenever the whim took her, often to her own detriment where the court was concerned. "So, Princess, what do you want to wear?"
"Oh no, Taylor, please. You and Alyssa should be in the Presence Chamber now. I do not want you to be late—"
"Nonsense! The ceremony does not start until you enter."
"If you say so."
"Come, come, Dame Alyssa is correct; we must hurry," Kendall said, peering into Princess Shayla's wardrobe.
The four women spent the next ten minutes raking through the Princess' numerous gowns and arguing about the suitability and practicality of each. Finally, they decided on one of the less glamorous options, a navy blue and silver corseted gown gifted to the Princess on the eve of a long-ago Samhain but never worn. Kendall then ushered in the Princess' handmaid who arranged the Princess' hair in her preferred ceremonial style: half-up, half-down.
"There..." said Kendall, turning the Princess towards the gilded, floor-length mirror. "Perfect!"
Princess Shayla liked what she saw. She was by no means vain. She knew she could never compete with beauties such as Taylor, whose flaxen hair and sharply defined features stood out in court, even when she wore full-plaid armour, but nor was the Princess plain with her large, warm eyes, and full lips, which today had been enhanced with make-up. Indeed, there was only one word to describe how she looked today. Gorgeous.
And there was only one thing she wished to achieve. Stun Merrick Baliton.
Meanwhile, King Animus stood outside the doors to the Presence Chamber, waiting for his daughter. He reflected on that morning's council meeting regarding the honoured position, hoping he had chosen wisely. The longer he thought about it, the more he doubted his decision; most of his advisors had leaned towards another candidate, though none had dared to press the subject too strongly. The King shook away his doubts once more, remembering the divine position the Gods themselves had put him in. He was the king. He, and he alone, knew what was best for his precious heiress.
Speaking of Princess Shayla, she finally arrived, going to her father's side. The King raised his brow in disapproval at Dames Taylor and Alyssa as they hurried past him into the Presence Chamber, ten minutes later than their male counterparts. Dame Delgado followed timidly, blushing for reasons known only to her.
The King shook his head and turned to his daughter. "My darling. On this day, you so resemble your poor dear mother."
"I am honoured, Father," Princess Shayla replied, placing her hand in the crook of his arm.
"His Grace The King, and Her Highness The Princess!" a scroll announced, directly preceding the royal pair's entry.
The King led his daughter to the thrones at the end of the vast chamber. His was large and gold-plated with red plush velvet seats; hers was a comparatively smaller wooden chair, albeit one of ornate design, which sat farther away from the former than her late mother's, an identical to the King's, used to sit. In order of precedence, The King took his seat first, followed closely by the Princess and then the rest of the court.
At the far end of the table to Princess Shayla's left sat Sir Merrick Baliton, one of the six elite warriors. His eyes had not left her since her appearance, though not quite for the reason she would have liked. Indeed, to him, she was always beautiful, always fair, so it was not her face that drew his attention this day but rather her choice of gown. He dared not presume she'd done so consciously, but she had, in fact, dressed in the colours of his coat-of-arms, the very colours he wore right now, as if she were partial to him. The thought mortified him. The kings of old had been known to kill their daughters' admirers for far less.
Sensing Merrick's eyes on her, Princess Shayla surreptitiously glanced at him, catching him unawares. She sighed in disappointment as he instantly averted his gaze, staring intently at the table. From his immediate right, Alyssa watched the exchange in mild amusement, at last understanding why the Princess had opted for an old gown she had never much cared for despite Kendall and Taylor's insistence that she pick something more appropriate for the occasion. Yet even as she shared a smile with her liege lord's daughter, Alyssa knew the Princess had gone too far. The Princess' feelings were no great secret amongst her intimate circle, to be sure, but to flaunt them so openly in front of the whole court was another matter entirely. A grave mistake, even. The King may not yet have noticed his daughter's folly but if a young virgin such as Alyssa had, then the other courtiers could not be blind either.
The King, for his part, was oblivious to the trajectory of his daughter's gaze. He had his back to her, turned as he was towards the knights' table on his right, exchanging pleasantries with its occupants, Sir Coleton Evans, Dame Taylor, and Sir Maxwell Cooper. Finishing his greeting with the latter, he cleared his throat and straightened his back, sweeping his gaze over his court.
"My lords and ladies, we all know why we are gathered here on this day..."
