Suggestion #6 - BadBoyHalo
This one was suggested by mochhoos :)
Thank you for the suggestion!
Sorry, this was supposed to be out yesterday, but I accidently updated my Sapnap x reader book instead, oops... By the way, I'm pretty sure there's gonna be a new chapter out of that one later today, so STAY TUNED AND STAY SAFE!
ENJOY A STRUGGLINGBOYHALO... *whispers* and a shirtless Dream...
"I heard she's not only our queen, but the leader of the army as well."
"Some people say the army is lead by her Majesty alone."
"It's the biggest word around the street; The queen trains the army and leads them to war herself if needed. That's at least what the rumors says."
"It's not yet to be confirmed, but we think she's the leader of the army."
"Look at her; both a warrior and a queen."
"The army has stood strong ever since it was founded - she's definitely leading them. Such a hero."
The rumors were all true.
In the daylight hours, you were sat at your throne, majestically and formally, as every queen was meant to do. But at nightfall, you let the dress drop to your feet and pulled the cargo pants up, gearing up and ready to train new recruits of the army and guardians of the castle.
Your army was the strongest one out there. With the front forces trained and experienced, and the back forces ensuring nobody was left behind, you were undefeatable.
Nobody dared to go against you.
Training new recruits was fun. At least according to you. And when you looked at the army now, you couldn't help but look back at when some of them were completely new to the army area, as every male in town was forced to join the army after the age of 18, if they hadn't already joined beforehand.
You remembered Vincent, his cover name on the field better known as a6d, who transferred all the way from France to come and be a part of your army. When he first arrived, he barely even spoke English. Hell, he barely even spoke at all, and would mostly stay by himself, training on the training field or with someone else in the training room. Now, he was a part of the front force as one of your strongest soldiers. He had grown a lot, not only as a soldier, but as a person too. He was more talkative, more people-friendly, and dared to start a conversation instead of remaining silent.
There was also Zak, who had been forced into the army when he was only 16 by his parents. You couldn't quite believe your eyes when you saw his teenager body standing outside your gates with a small backpack packed and a pillow under his arm. He had been a lot younger than any of the other members, and had therefore been a lot more immature. He had been hard to train, due to his inability to stay focused on the task at hand, but you got through the struggles, and even formed a friendship in the midst of the harsh tasks of survival.
And Mega, as everyone knew him by. Cold, sarcastic, a certain bite in his tone as he signed at people, constantly insulting then without them even having a clue. You knew he enjoyed that. As a mute, the life of a soldier and guard could both be hard and as easy as cutting a piece of cake. You knew about Mega's struggles, and as both his queen and coach, it was your responsibility to help him through it. It was because of him that a new law was considered being made; learn people in the army sign language. You knew how frustrated it was for Mega when he turned up to sign himself in for the army and nobody could understand him. But you also knew the fun and thrill he felt of telling people to fuck off without them knowing.
Zak had taken it upon himself to try and get the mute boy to speak, to just utter a single word, even after people had told him that Mega had his vocal cords cut in a terrible accident that almost costed him his life.
Then there was Clay. He was a born fighter, a born leader, always first in the field with his gun raised and a murderous look in his eyes. Some of the castle's guardians had found him on the side of the road when he was only a child, and nobody would recognize him as their own when you went around town asking. So you had taken him in. And you didn't even need to train him all that much; it was like his body already knew what to do, how to act and what ways to bend. He was a born fighter, with the skills of an assassin and capability to escape even the worst of situations.
Those four remained in the front of the army when you geared up to fight. And they remained in the front of the castle as guards when they weren't in the field. They were your best fighters, your best protectors, and your family. At least you saw them that way.
"Your Majesty," One of your personal guards, Nick, said, snapping you out of your thoughts, "There's a new recruit waiting for you outside."
He sounded out of breath, which had caused a frown to rise on your face, and as you were about to question the wheezes escaping his mouth as he heaved for oxygen, you got your answer. George, your second personal guard, came sprinting in as fast as he could, nearly tripping over a small fold on the red carpet.
"No!" He whined upon seeing Nick already there, bowed down in front of you and with you sitting on your throne with a puzzled look laying upon your face. "You told her already? I said I wanted to tell her."
"Yeah, well, you snooze, you lose, I guess," Nick said, struggling to get the words out through the heaves, giggling.
"I wasn't snoozing," George mocked, "I was running. But it's like... Human-human-Meadows outside, so you couldn't run properly outside."
"Well, then, how did I get here so fast if you can't run properly outside?" Nick asked, raising his eyebrows as he crossed his arms over his chest. All the while you sat there watching, amused.
"Nick, I saw you shove that one man out of the way! He fell into the fountain!" George shreiked.
Ah, yes. The iconic duo of the castle. The jesters. The unserious ones. The adorable, chaotic, bickering pair, that everybody always tried running away from as to not get caught in the middle of their stupid fights. While everyone else found it annoying, you found it highly amusing. People many times wondered why you hadn't fired them yet, or at least de-promoted them to something other than your personal guards. But you hadn't.
And that was because, according to you, personal guards should be more than just fighters to protect you with. They should be someone you could tolerate to be with almost 18 hours a day, someone who could put a smile on your face, whether or not they do it intentionally or not. They should be someone other than just a stone-cold facade that stands by your side to make sure you don't trip on your way to bed, or when it really counts, protect you and sacrifice themselves to assure your safety.
They could that, but people around the world feared you. Your name brought shivers down people's spines, singing with the voice of death if someone dared to stand up against you. Everybody, the whole world, knew of your strong army and courage to stand up against even the best of warriors. They knew better than to try and fight you.
So George and Nick was never really needed. They were simply always there to brighten your day, without them even knowing.
"Children," You said loudly, cutting the two's bickering short, "You say we have a new arrival?"
"Yes, your Majesty," George grumbled sourly, "Be careful when you walk out, that fold on the carpet is a real son of a gun."
You laughed and elegantly rose from your seat, smoothing out the big dress that clung to your body perfectly. Nick walked over to the small fold, and, while looking George straight in the eyes, kicked it back into place obnoxiously, which caused another heart-filled laugh to escape from your mouth.
The moment you walked outside, you got your eyes on the newcomer. He was standing by the gate with a small backpack clutched tightly in his hands, two guards by his side as he watched the castle in front of him with big, intimidated eyes.
You swore you could see him shake with fear from where you stood.
Sympathy grazes through your eyes, knowing fully well that some people that got sent to the army didn't want to be there. Many feared the violence, the blood, the gore that came when you were on the field. Many shook by the thought of not returning. Shook by the thought of death.
Those were often the ones that hesitated in the field. And it was often what got them killed.
As you descended down the stairs, people bowed down on one knee in front of you, almost like they were asking for your hand in marriage.
You never understood why that was a sign of respect. According to you, even if you were the queen, everyone should have the same rights and everyone should be equal. Bowing down didn't necessarily mean respect and surrender. It just meant that they knew you were a higher rank than them.
You often told guards to stand up whenever they bowed down, but you had your sympathetic eyes on the newcomer right now, and didn't give a second thought to the bowing guards.
The boy, or man if you will, pushed his glasses up on his nose nervously, locking eyes with you for the first time. It seemed as if it only made him shake harder, and you couldn't help but feel bad.
According to you, joining the army should be something you do because you want to. The army you had now was more than enough, and you certainly didn't need more protection, so what was the point of sending in more people that wasn't exactly needed? And to top it off, if they weren't made fighters, if they didn't wanna spend the rest of their lives until they retired, on the field, you didn't want to force them.
What was the point?
If you didn't dedicate yourself 110%, it could end up getting someone, or yourself, killed in the haste of rapid gunfire and explosions, as well as the screams of the wounded or dying.
"Your Majesty," A guard by the name Jacob addressed, "This is Mr. Darryl Noveschosch, age 21. We found him hiding on the streets and did a background check on him. He's illegally never entered the army, despite being over the age of 18. It's up to you if you want to put Mr. Noveschosch on court, your Majesty."
"No, no," You insisted, smiling gently at the newcomer, Darryl, whose body was trembling with fear, "That won't be necessary."
Darryl caught your eyes and smiled at you weakly, his lips trembling and eyes filled with unshed tears. He was terrified out of his mind.
He was never a fighter. According to him, violence wasn't the answer, and there had never been a situation where he felt the need to use it to escape. He was the most innocent person the world would ever see.
And he was compelled to join the forces of his town to ensure his country's safety. Even if he wasn't needed.
"Mr. Noveschosch, please come along. And don't worry, we'll take care of you." You said, nodding to one of your guards who then took his backpack. They almost had to pry it from his hands as Darryl was clutching onto it so hard that his knuckles were white as a ghost. It was one of the only things Darryl had that gave him some sense of security.
You knew he wasn't destined to fight.
So it was long days of training waiting ahead for the two of you.
The very same night when Darryl had just gotten comfortable in his new bed, the top bunker, with nice sheets, a fluffy pillow and a soft duvet, about half a dusin of people suddenly came pilling through the door, four of them wearing cargo pants and military green t-shirts, and the other two protective armor with a black and white shirt underneath and two pair of completely grey pants.
They were all softly chatting with one another, except for one of them, who came through the door lastly, closing it behind him carelessly. One of them, the blonde one, started slipping off his sweaty shirt that clung to his slightly buff body, while another one, the guy with the fluffy black hair and dark toned skin, started undoing his belt. Another one began untying their beige and muddy shoes, while the last guy in the military outfit, the silent one, ruffled his own hair as he looked himself in the mirror. The two one with the protective armor on was stood face-to-face, bickering while occasionally slapping the other one on the shoulder, which had caused a full-on slap war to start. The first war all of them had experienced in years without it being for practice.
The sudden commotion caused Darryl to jump up from his seat whee he before had been sat, reading silently with the lamp hung up on the wall lit.
The blonde one, now shirtless revealing his ripped chest and six-pack, was the first one to get his eyes on Darryl. He barely even reacted, just raised an eyebrow and slapped the back of the black-haired guy's head with the darker skin when he passed by him.
"So," The blonde one said, "I see they finally filled out that empty space. About time. He's been gone for years now."
The others stopped what they were doing and looked over at Darryl, who had closed his book and was now shifting awkwardly where he sat, squirming under their intense stares. They were all so intimidating to look at.
And who had been gone for years? Who had they lost?
"What's your name, newbie?" The blonde asked, leaning his arms against the railing of the top bunker, being tall enough to reach without that much trouble.
"... I'm Darryl." Darryl said quietly, looking down at the book in his hands.
"Well, Darryl," The blonde one smiled, "Welcome to the army. I'm Clay, and as it seems, we'll be sharing a bunker."
"Oh, how lucky he is." The dark skinned one shreiked. "I'm gonna faint, Clay. I'm so jealous."
"Do you guys hear a buzzing?" Clay asked, patting his chest, "Or is that just Zak talking?"
"Just Zak." Another one said, a thick french accent visible in his tone as he spoke. Darryl wondered if it was just how he talked or if he was originally from France.
"Anyways," Shaking his head, Clay ran a hand through his sweaty hair that had turned a slightly darker shade than normally as it remained wet from the training today; he had spent his entire day fetching Zak from a deep swimming pool as the black-haired boy pretended to be unconscious. It got really annoying, especially because Clay knew that Zak made it harder for him. "French dude, the one with the accent, that's Vincent. The british guy, that's George, he's one of the queen's personal guards. The other one, the guy with the same clothes as him, his name's Nick. We only really see them when they come down here to sleep because their job is primarily up in the castle. The mute guy, that's Mega. Shortly put it, we have no idea who that dude is, but he's out buddy anyways. The annoyingly short peasant is Zak."
"It's... Uh, it's nice to meet you." Darryl stammered with a weak smile.
When morning once again rose upon the castle and its citizens, and a new day stood before everyone, it was Darryl's first day of training.
Darryl had gotten some sleep and something to eat and chatted with his new roommates, who he found that he had taken quite a liking to, before everyone was called out of their rooms to start the day.
As a newbie, you had wanted to train Darryl by yourself without the other sargents that helped you commandeer the army. It was safe to say that that had been a giant struggle.
You had placed a gun into Darryl's hand, telling him to load it with ammunition, and he had stuffed some of the bullets into the hole where the bullets was supposed to exit. You had showed him how it was done after he nearly pulled the trigger, and had practiced the basics with him, how to safely hold it and where to actually load the bullets.
But Darryl had nearly refused to even hold the gun in the first place, so when you finally told him to fire the gun at the mannequin doll, he said that if he did fire, and that if it was a real person, he would hurt them.
"Yes, Darryl," You had sighed, "That's the point."
"But I'm gonna be shooting them," Darryl had argued back, his voice trembling, "It's gonna hurt. They're gonna die."
Eventually, you had Darryl put the gun down; you were getting nowhere in trying to get him to pull the trigger on the doll, and had instead tried to get him over to practice on some of the obstacle courses that were scattered all over the training field.
When Darryl had fallen down one of the courses after almost finishing it and hurt his ankle, you had already called it a day and told him to go rest.
He had limped into his shared room with the feeling of failure and disappointment. He had heard the frustrated sigh you had let out, and he knew that he had let you down. That he had been impossibly stupid and really useless all throughout the day.
He had let the queen down, how could he be so stupid?
Because this wasn't what he was meant to be doing.
On the second day, his foot felt better. He loaded the gun right, and flipped off the safety. But he still refused to shoot, and had dropped the gun at your feet with trembling hands.
"It's okay, Darryl." You had coaxed, "Shooting for the first time can be a big deal to some people."
He had made it through the tough part of the obstacle course, the one he failed on yesterday, after fiddling with the gun slightly, learning new tricks on how to take it apart and put it back together, which he had struggled greatly with. You eventually had to assemble the gun by yourself after Darryl had screwed it up so bad that it came out looking like a totally different type of gun than what it originally looked like.
You had come to learn that Darryl was actually quite strong. He could easily lift the big tree-trunk used for training off of the ground with you and carry it several meters before finally beginning to feel the sting in his arms.
When he had walked into his room at night to find all of his roommates already there, he had been sweaty and exhausted, and every single one of his bones had been aching to sleep after working out all day, you testing his limits to see how far he could go before almost passing out. He had taken a relieving and well-deserved shower, chatted with his newfound friends, that he found was surprisingly welcome towards him, before falling into the deepest sleep ever.
On the third day he had aimed at the target with his gun without a single tremble in his hands, still feeling the aching in his muscles from yesterday, yet shaking it off. He had seen the proud look graze your face when you, too, noticed that his hands weren't shaking like before.
He had made it through the obstacle course again, and you had forced him to go through it a couple of more times, stopping to practice some of the parts he fell back on multiple times over, constantly trying to beat his own record.
He had taken apart the gun with only slight trouble, but had once again been stuck on trying to put it back together, which had caused his hands to start shaking again. But you had simply put your hands over his, looked him in the eyes, and said those four words.
"You can do it."
It had been like a complete boost in his will. Your encouragement, the gleam in your eyes that told him that not a single word that fell from your lips was a lie, that you actually believed in him, had given him the determination to take a deep breath, reset his wandering thoughts, and try again.
And he actually put it halfway together successfully.
The fourth day Darryl nearly pulled the trigger of his gun. But the eyes of the mannequin staring into his, the piercing thoughts of knowing that if this was real, that guy in front of him had friends and people who cared about him, who would miss him if Darryl pulled the trigger and shot him. And it would be all his fault, because he shot him.
So he had instead assembled the gun to try and put it back together correctly. And he had assembled almost correctly this time, after you had reminded him how to do it by showing him with your own gun.
He had gone through the same obstacle course flawlessly, only struggling a little bit on the last part where he had to pull himself over a beam sat up in the air. It was too tall for him to simply swing over one of his legs, and he had to pull his whole body up with his arms, which had caused him to fall back slightly.
You had made him practice that last part all day until he finally got it right.
On the fifth day, he finally pulled the trigger. His palms were sweaty, and the gun had nearly slipped from his grasp, but he had pointed his gun at the mannequin, his aim completely off, and he had squeezed the trigger with his finger delicately.
Darryl would never forget the haunting sound of the blast as the knockback on the gun sent his arm backwards slightly.
"Great job, Darryl!" You had exclaimed, excitedly putting an arm around his shoulder and gave his back a pat. He could clearly see you were proud, even if you knew he didn't hit the target where he wanted to, and instead landed a shot in the mannequin's leg.
But he had made you proud.
And he had made you even more proud when he had assembled the gun correctly, though still not doing it very fast. He had done it.
He had shot a gun in only a matter of five days, when he before never even thought about going near a gun.
That to you, gave you the desire to continue training with the dream that he someday could be standing on the front line beside Clay, Zak, Vincent and Mega, proudly, with his head raised and gun ready, geared up and prepared to fight. It gave you hope that he maybe could be a fighter afterall.
He had the abilities, you saw that now. You knew he had the strength, the sense of failure when he had accidently led you down, but also the capability to face his mistakes again and try to make them better. He had the will to succeed, even if he didn't like whatever task had been put in his way.
He was a fighter. Maybe not physically yet, but he was still a fighter.
And that alone gave you the hope to continue your journey towards the success you both were seeking; to overcome your worst fear and face the world with your bravest face. Everybody's a fighter, everybody has the ability to do it...
But the question is if they want to dedicate themselves or not.
The royal kingdom got another fighter the day that Darryl fired that gun. One that chose to dedicate themselves, overcome their fears and doubts. A real fighter, maybe not physically...
But still a fighter.
__________
Urg, I don't really like how I wrote this one. Hope you still think it's okay, lol
I've never done a royalty AU, so I hope I did it right, but I enjoyed writing this :) it was fun! Thanks for the suggestion.
New chapter gonna be out on my Sapnap x reader later (if I feel like spoiling you guys, which I kinda do lmao)
Stay tuned and stay safe, guys!
vote or die tmr
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