Hi everyone.. So yesterday was Kings day here and somehow we started talking about imagining Donna and Harvey as King and Queen.. and well one thing led to another, and I started writing this piece set in the 1500's. So it's most definitely AU.. but I hope you'll give it a go.. I sketched out most of the fic, it will probably be around 9 chapters, but please let me know if you think this is at all interesting :) And the rating might get changed for upcoming themes, so be sure to follow if you like it.

So without much further ado.. Here's the prologue and the first real chapter in the next part.

This one's for the DA and the dragon tamers (you know who you are). I hope you all like it :) x


Twelve Days, One (K)night

Prologue:

The porcelain skin of her right hand moves over the handle of the engraved wooden door. Her auburn locks swaying from left to right as she swiftly looks over her right shoulder. Scanning the empty hallway behind her she makes sure one last time there's no one else there to see what she's doing.

She's not supposed to be there.

He forbid her from ever going here, but the memories and the fact it wasn't allowed only making it so much more tempting. She lets out a breath as her grasp moves the handle down at last. Pushing the door open she strolls inward, her left hand pulling the skirt of her gown towards her as she twirls around.

Her eyes closed she remembers the melodies of the music that used to play, she remembers the aroma of the flowers her mother picked to decorate the tables underneath the painting. She recalls her mother's voice and her father's laughter.

Swallowing she opens her eyes, her pupils take some time to adjust to the lack of lighting, but the paintings are still visible. A small layer of dust accumulating on the top of her index finger, she pulls back the hand that traced the golden frame. Blowing away the lint, she reminds herself that she can't leave any evidence of her presence behind.

Her gaze follows the edge of the purple gown until her eyes look into those of the duchess she hasn't seen in years. Six years, she swallows as she studies the painting on the left. The one that portrays her parents. The late King and Queen Paulsen.

Six years.

Six years have gone by since they passed away. An accident, that's what he told her. Her uncle, the man that's looking after her now. She doesn't dwell upon that black day too much, she never got to see them. She never got to see the place it happened, she never got to say goodbye.

Her eyes focus on the auburn locks of her mother on the portrait, her fingers running through her own hair as she remembers how her mother used to do that.


Her head rests against her mother's upper body as she lays down beside her on the lounger. Listening to the stories Evelyn tells her about a canvas of her choosing. It's a ritual, something they did on every Saturday. Her eyes close as her mother's hand runs through her ginger manes, listening to the story she already knows by heart.

The anecdote of the bridal portrait of her parents.

"Were you in love with father when you wedded him?" her eyes flicker open meeting the hazel ones of the older woman. "Absolutely," she beams, pulling her daughter closer, "I was very fortunate about that," she presses a kiss on Donna's head. "Why?" the word left the girls lips making her mother laugh, she was so curious. Always wanting to know why or how something happened.

"Because I got to wed my closest companion," Evelyn grins thinking about her spouse, "I mean.. yes our betrothal had been planned since my birth, but we met before that decision became public. We got to know each other since we lived close. Your father and I became acquainted and fell in love," she lets her daughters fingers run over her wedding band. "I want that for you too, Donna."

"Why?" the twelve year old girl murmurs, lifting herself up from the lounger. Spinning across the room in front of the portraits, before she lets herself fall down on the hardwood floor. Her gown flowing around her legs, her arms leaning on the edge of the red velvet sofa. Her eyes directed at her mother for a second time as she still waits for an explanation.

"Because," her mother hooks her finger under her offspring's chin, making the girl look at her again, "if it would be up to your father, or your late ancestors. You would be betrothed to one of King Gordon's sons," Donna studies the smile on her mother's face. "But.. I've never met one of them, how?"

"You have. You've met them, dearest," she squeezes Donna's hand, "remember your sixth anniversary, the two lads that pretended to be knights and fought with loaf of breads," Evelyn's words making Donna laugh, but she shakes her head no. She can't really reminisce the moment. "Well. You're father and their father, they arranged for you and his oldest son to be wedded, but you don't have to do that."

"Why not?"

"Like I said, I want you to marry because you've fallen in love. Not because that's what the custom is. The only way I'll let your father declare that our little princess is going to rule the Specter House is because you've fallen desperately in love with one of their heirs."

"What if I do?" Evelyn closes her eyes, smiling at her daughter's words. "In that case I'll be very happy for you, because only the best is worthy for my daughter."


She closes her eyes, pushing away the recollections of the last conversation she ever had with her mother, she turns around. Not even willing to face the image with her eyes closed. No matter how hard she tries to forget, she'll always be able to picture it.

To hear those words once more.

"Like I said, I want you to marry because you've fallen in love. Not because that's what the custom is. The only way I'll let your father declare that our little princess is going to rule the Specter House is because you've fallen desperately in love with one of their heirs."

She lets herself tumble down on the hardwood floor, her dress circling around her legs like it had done all those years ago. A tear rolls down her cheek as she thinks about the day to come. Her eighteenth birthday, she'd not yet fallen in love. She had not even met the heirs her mother had spoken about, or anyone else for that matter.

She'd been imprisoned by the numerous of defence walls for the past twelve years. Not once setting a foot outside the manor after the loss of her beloved father and mother.

All because of him.

"Donna!" the dark voice mingled with the sound of the heavy wooden door hitting the wall echoing through the art gallery. She freezes on the spot, her head tilting towards the grey bearded man. The anger clear in the dark brown eyes staring down at her.

"Sorry, uncle," her voice trembling as she lifts herself up, realising her mistake as she sees his jaw clench even more. "King Hardman," she stutters running out of the room, pushing away the tears.

He didn't even keep the Paulsen family name.