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“My lady Asri, I have returned,” cooed the knight December, kneeling perfectly at her highness’s robes in the same, practiced way she had hundreds, if not thousands, of times.
“My brave knight, December. Please, be at ease,” replied the princess Asriel, extending a gloved hand to her paramour. As easy as it was to drift into bliss at her knight’s return, she fought to stay aware in the moment, to feel the warmth of each kiss her Dess pressed onto her knuckles and the way she lingered on each one.
“Please rise, my knight. You have traveled a long ways from the realms of Snowdin. How fares your sister Noelle?” It was a careful dance, the way they reunited, surrounded by guards in the throne room. Oh, how Asri could not wait until they were dismissed from this ritual.
“She fares well, my lady. I bring word that she hopes to make your sibling’s acquaintance, one day, much as my father has made the King’s, and as I have made yours.” Even in her sleek armor, colored dark as the night, December moved as if she were the definition of grace. She stood in one swift motion, her body perfectly aligned.
“What a woman,” Asri remarked to herself, before regaining her composure enough to reply in a proper manner. “Miss Noelle is certainly welcome here; any member of your family is a member of ours, my Knight.”
“I shall let her know then, my lady; though it must be by letter. After all, I have my duty to fulfill here, by your side.” Perhaps December’s flirtatious manner was poorly concealed; at this point, though, she cared not. Let the court talk; after all, it would give them something else to discuss other than the Royal Scientist’s blossoming relationship with the head of the Royal Guard.
“You most certainly do,” Asri replied, covering her smile with her other hand. “And with this, I officially recognize your return to my service as my personal knight, December Holiday. All others may be dismissed.”
She shot a pointed look at her sibling, Kris, whose leave signaled to the rest of the guardsmen to give the princess and knight their space. In return, Kris gave her a knowing look, the sort that said ‘you owe me, Sister Dearest’. A trip to the head pastry chef it was, then.
“Well, my lady, it appears we are finally alone,” hummed December, taking hold of the princess’s other hand.
“Why yes, it does, does it not,” Asri agreed, a blush spreading across her cheeks.
“May I?” December drew closer, her brown fur brushing against Asri’s pale white with a touch of blonde. Her breath tickled against the princess’s ear, enough to make Asri’s fur stand on end.
“You may,” the princess replied in a hushed voice.
Only a moment later, after her knight glanced once more around the room to confirm they were alone, came the kiss, gentle on impact but greedy for more. In what felt like a series of portraits, there was a hand on Asri’s waist, drawing her closer, a tilt of their heads, the princess’s curved horns clacking against her knight’s pointed antlers, and another hand coursing through the locks on the back of Asri’s head. Angel above, how they’d both missed this. Eager to close any remaining distance, Asri pressed her body against the cool metal of her Dess’s armor, shivering as its pointed chest dug itself into her robes. Off was the only word echoing through the princess’s head, and she pulled at the gap between her knight’s faulds and cuisses to say as much without breaking the kiss.
“Mmph,” replied December, and she pulled back momentarily to undo her gauntlets; instantly, however, the problem in this became apparent. “Your horns,” she whispered, urgent.
“Ah, yes, my horns, they do seem to be…” The inward curves of Asri’s horns had caught on the outward points of December’s own antlers, interlocked like the old joinery that had laid the castle’s foundations.
“Hmm, Asri, maybe if you move your horns up…” There was the clack of horn on horn, as Asri’s horns met with the upper prongs of December’s antlers.
“No, no, perhaps if I just tilted a little more to the…” Clack.
“We still haven’t tried to…” Clack.
“Surely there is a way out of this, my lady.” Clack.
“…Perhaps, my knight, we should call in a trusted advisor.”
“And how so, my dearest Asri, without alerting the entirety of the castle staff to the current situation?”
“Well, perhaps there is somebody listening in on our current predicament,” Asri intoned, prompting a set of red mock horns to appear from the throne room’s doorway.
“Augh, Your Highness Kris, have we not discussed intruding on private moments,” grumbled Dess, little as she could complain at the current moment.
“…y’want help or do you not, Miss Knight?” Kris mumbled, emerging fully from the doorway with a wicked grin.
“Promise not to tell mom?” Asri inquired, wary of what Queen Toriel would do at the news of her daughter sharing a kiss before marriage.
“…may we visit the chocolatier as well?” Kris walked up to the two, awkwardly locked in a downward lean, and gave their best pleading eyes to their sister.
“Yes, we can, Kris. And I will not tell Mother about it.”
“…Deal.” Kris held out their hand, which Asri gratefully and hurriedly shook.
“Say, Kris… I take it you are never going to stop holding this above our heads?” Dess forced a grin onto her face as Kris tugged a little too hard downwards on their horns.
“…Nope. Never.”
And so it was whispered to this day, the tale of the princess and her knight’s woes.