Princess Mina had lived her whole life under the dark shadow her mother's passing cast on her father. Violet, the 56th queen of Sapphirus, died giving birth to the new queen, as had every queen before her. As was tradition, her father, the king consort, was appointed regent. He was tasked with continuing to run the government and with finding the next wielder, the man who would be able to pull the sapphire dagger from the sheath. The man who would be the next king.
Unfortunately for Mina, she was the sheath. She was eleven years, seven months, and twelve days old when she had her first cycle. The next day, a proclamation went out to the entire country announcing her first blood, calling on men who believed they might be the next king to come and present themselves to the regent and royal priestesses. The caveat was that if you were bold enough to present yourself to the court and then failed to pull the dagger from Mina's chest, you forfeited your life, either as a servant to the castle, a soldier, or, if you refused, execution. This deterred many people, but Mina had still been being groped by perfect strangers for the past 10 years of her life.
This time, they had gone too far. Before her stood her father, hollow with his continued mourning, and her 12 priestesses, a sea of blue and gold garments. In their midst was a filthy human man in what amounted to rags. As if humans didn't smell bad enough, this man hadn't bathed in what looked like months. His skin and clothes were covered in a layer of grime that she didn't want to think about. His dark hair and beard fell in a tangled mess well past his shoulders. She had never been so averse to someone touching her in her whole life, and there had been some questionable candidates attempting to become the wielder.
She was from a line of magical creatures, not a human to be found. She bathed and groomed herself daily. Her dark red hair was intricately woven down her back, and her blue and gold dress and scarf were perfectly draped around her body. She didn't expect every man to look like they had walked out of the nearest noble house, but she did expect them to be decently clean.
"Approach," she forced out reluctantly. She did not want him to approach. She wanted him to change his mind and leave. He raised his eyes to her, and her breath hitched in her throat. They were the most intense blue she'd ever seen. They were tired and lined, but the beauty of the intricately woven hues of blue far outshone all of that. He carefully climbed the steps to her throne and paused before her.
"I'm sorry about this," he whispered and reached out to her, maintaining eye contact. Her chest warmed uncomfortably. At first, she thought she was blushing from his apology. No one, in 10 years, had ever thought to apologize for groping her chest. It was just expected of her because she was the sheath. They had no shame, grabbing their soon-to-be queen with no regard for how she felt about it. This one didn't have that sense of entitlement or arrogance.
"Wait," she said as it began to overtake her. As the feeling intensified, she worked out that the warmth rushing to the skin of her chest wasn't a flush of blood. This had never happened before. It was always just a clumsy hand to her chest between her breasts. She could feel the panic building in her stomach. Could this really be the one? The man immediately withdrew, and the warmth dissipated within seconds.
"Are you alright?" The man asked quietly, concern written all over his face. Her father appeared next to him, without even a fraction of the concern this stranger was showing her. There was nothing new there. He'd watched dozens of men grope her without a care for her comfort or safety.
"Let's get this over with. Put your hand to her chest and try to pull out the dagger." He ordered impatiently.
"No," the man said firmly but quietly. She'd never seen surprise on her father's face before. Her whole life, the only two emotions he seemed to possess were grief and anger. "I won't touch her without her permission."
"You will try to take the dagger, or you won't get a choice in losing your life." There was his signature anger. His impatience was infuriating, but she held her tongue to avoid his wrath later. She might be an adult, but until there was a new king, he was in charge of her whole life and never hesitated to make her miserable if she didn't do as he said.
"Then so be it," the man turned away from her. She was bewildered by his response. He was a stranger putting his life on the line to respect her needs. It took her a moment to find the words to stop him from leaving.
"That won't be necessary," she stated as regally as she could in her confusion. She wouldn't have him die to save her own dignity. "You may resume." The man turned once again to face her, his face awash with relief.
"Are you certain?" His impossible blue eyes were still filled with concern.
"Continue," she said gently, holding eye contact with him again. He bent his knees in a sort of bow and approached her. As he reached out to her, the same warmth filled her chest. It became almost unbearable when the tips of his fingers gently paused on her sternum. "Continue." She repeated when he looked up at her, no doubt noticing the struggle on her face.
He pressed his fingers more firmly against the skin that was left bare by her dress for this exact purpose. In a flood of light, her flesh suddenly gave way, and the man's hand began to enter her body. Not in a gross, touching organs sort of way, which she thanked the ancestors for because his hands were the filthiest part of him. In a magic pocket that happened to reside in her chest and hold the most powerful enchanted weapon in the world, sort of way. She was overcome with euphoria when he reached the golden hilt of the dagger. It felt like her whole body was vibrating so fast she was going to explode. He grasped the dagger, and a moan escaped her lips. Despite her obvious distraction, she didn't miss the quirking of his unkempt eyebrow. Had she been in possession of her faculties, she would have slapped him. Instead, she held the arms of her throne tightly, trying to maintain control of herself.
"I'm going to pull it out now." His voice was gruffer than it had been, and suddenly she wondered if he could feel any of this. Her face flushed deep red. She swallowed, took a sharp breath, and then nodded gently.
He pulled the dagger from her chest at a speed that felt agonizingly slow. Her breaths came in short and quick gasps. She grasped the arms of her throne so hard she thought her knuckles might pop out of place. Then, it just stopped. As she regained her composure, he stood silently before her, holding the curse that had been over her for the 21 years of her life. The dagger with a sapphire blade and a hilt of gold was outside her body for the first time in her life, and she felt weirdly empty and full at the same time. This filthy human, who had shown her more compassion in a few moments than almost anyone had in her lifetime, was now her husband and king. Mina, the 57th queen of Sapphirus, was required by a magic bond that controlled her whole life and destiny to marry a filthy human.
She stood up and left the great hall and everyone in it behind.
Behind her, she heard the clamor of excited voices, some celebrating finally finding the wielder and king, some debating on what to do about the fleeing queen, and Mina ignored them all. In that moment, she didn't care about her responsibilities or the fate that had been thrust upon her at birth.
She exited the throne room and took a sharp right down the arching hallway towards the nearest secret passage to the garden. It was hidden behind the tapestry of the first queen, an elf named Darra, chosen by the first priestesses to carry the dagger, find her wielder, and protect the realm from the invading dark forces. When the realm was saved, it was named Sapphirus, and the people made Darra their queen, and her wielder, a Changeling named Owain, became the first King Consort. It seemed fitting that her escape be hiding behind the reason she was in this mess to begin with.