TRYST // Philza X Reader

1

War was a terrible thing in all senses of the word. Wars between friends and families almost always ended in hurt feelings and damaged pride. Wars between lovers ended families. But worst of all were wars between a king and his people, where no matter what side you got roped into, you were in the wrong in someone's eyes.

This war was one of the worst kind.

It had been going on for months now - a constant back and forth between the pillaging armies and the king's guard that left hundreds dead every day. From snippets of overheard talk amongst the guards and gossip that had worked it's way through the town this was by no means the worst of it either - right now, it was only small villages being targeted, but what happened when things reached the castle?

That being said, the war was great for your business.

Not that being in the message running business was ever really slow - even when you had been only twelve years old and confined to running letters just the length of the capitol city there had always been more messages to run - but the amount of letters and scrolls that were dumped into your lap to deliver every day had nearly doubled since the war had began (and so had your pay).

Just today, you had already delivered almost forty letters. It had taken you most of the day, and your feet were beginning to hurt from all of the running you had done, but your bag was light now, and you were clutching the last letter of the day in your hand as you moved through the streets of the capitol, dodging people as they made their way home from their workplaces.

You glanced down at the address on this last letter again - you were nearly there now. You turned around a corner and onto a different street, using a fencepost to avoid a cart that came rumbling by. You pushed off the post and kept going without a falter in your step, and soon enough you were approaching an unassuming house that shared an address with the scrawl on the letter envelope.

You hopped up the steps to the porch and strode forward, rapping on the door. Soon enough, a portly woman opened it up, peering up at you.

"Letter for you, ma'am." You said, holding out the folded paper for her. "I'm sorry it's so late in the day - I almost didn't notice this one at the bottom of the bag."

The woman's eyes lit up as she took the letter from you, holding the paper like it was something precious. "This'll be from my son." She said. "He's been out in a troupe of fighters for a month now, trying to track down those pillager groups. It's a miracle these letters still find me anymore - thank you."

You smiled - this was the best part of the job. The smiles on people's faces when they received a letter from a loved one made the long hours worth it. You were doing a service to the people like this.

"My pleasure." You said. "Hopefully, I'll get to bring you another one."

"Oh I just hope it's all over soon." The woman said. "The more my boy writes to me about this war and the things he hears over on the fronts... the more I'm beginning to think that those pillagers might be onto something."

You hummed in agreement - you had been feeling much the same. It wasn't like the war had come out of nowhere after all - the king had been pushing the pillagers and their kin aside for years, it only made sense that it would all boil over eventually. "All too right." You said, stepping down from the porch.

Seeing that you were going on your way, the woman waved. "Thank you again!" She said, clutching the letter. "And have a nice evening!"

"You're more than welcome!" You said, turning on your heel to rejoin the flow of people that were making their way through the streets. Your bag hung empty at your side now, and even thought the soles of your feet were aching, you smiled. Done for the day, a beautiful sunset in the sky and you had picked up fresh greens in the market earlier this week to eat for dinner.

It would be good to get home.

You made your way through the streets with ease - years working as a messenger had given you the knowledge of every nook and cranny of the city right up to the palace gates - and even a little bit past them. You took shortcuts when you could, cutting through alleyways and behind buildings until you were strolling down the street you lived on and hopping up the steps to your porch.

You had one hand on the door handle when you noticed the piece of parchment that had been pinned to the wood. Your stomach sank as you took in the wax seal on the bottom - deep blue wax brushed with silver that bore the royal crest.

"They said they weren't going to draft messengers..." You said, ripping the parchment loose and beginning to scan over the words.

As you read, your eyes widened. This wasn't a draft statement, no... this was a summons from the king himself. You read the letter twice to be sure, but no, there it was - you were expected at the castle tomorrow morning for a private audience with his majesty.

Pushing down on the door handle, you stumbled into the house, kicking your shoes off to let your feet breathe. You were still clutching the letter as you flopped down at the table in the center of your home, setting the letter down in front of you. A royal summons. It didn't seem real - not for a simple messenger like you.

But no. You ran a finger over the wax seal, pressing down until the carefully printed wax broke. It definitely was.