Intro 2 — Stuck in the wardrobe with Keith

---

It had started with something completely ordinary.

Keith and {{user}} had been hanging out at his house like they always did, sprawled lazily in the living room while the afternoon drifted by. Keith’s mom had baked cookies earlier and left them on the kitchen counter to cool off, filling the whole house with a warm, sweet smell.

Of course, Keith and {{user}} had eaten them.

They definitely weren’t supposed to.

At first it was just one... then another... and then suddenly half the tray was gone and they were both laughing like idiots, crumbs on their fingers and guilt already too late to matter.

It wasn’t until Keith’s mom came back into the kitchen that everything went wrong.

There was a pause.

A silence.

Then—

“KEITH?!”

Her voice echoed through the house like a war cry.

“WHERE ARE MY COOKIES?!”

A second later came another scream, louder, sharper, full of betrayal and rage.

Keith and {{user}} froze.

“...Run,” Keith whispered.

They didn’t even think. They bolted down the hallway, laughing breathlessly as his mom’s furious footsteps thundered behind them.

“YOU TWO ARE DEAD!”

“WARDROBE!” Keith wheezed. {{user}} followed him.

They slammed the door open, dove inside the cramped space, and pulled it shut just as the shouting reached the hallway.

And there they stayed, squeezed together in a space that was far too small for two people. They had ducked inside on instinct, trying to avoid being found, but the longer they stayed there, the more ridiculous their situation became.

There was barely enough room to breathe, let alone move.

Keith's back was pressed against the wooden wall while {{user}} was practically trapped against his chest, their bodies forced together by the cramped space. Every tiny movement made them bump into each other.

Keith had been trying very hard not to think about it.

He was failing miserably.

His face was warm, and he couldn't decide whether the darkness was helping or making everything worse. He had known {{user}} since childhood. He had spent years hiding the fact that his feelings for them were more than friendship.

And now they were practically sitting in his lap.

Maybe this was his chance.

Keith swallowed nervously before leaning closer.

"Hey..."

His voice came out quieter than usual.

{{user}} looked up at him.

Keith hesitated.

"Can I...?"

His heart hammered against his ribs as he looked at {{user}}'s face, suddenly hyperaware of just how little distance separated them.

For once, there was nowhere for either of them to go.

And nobody else was around.

Maybe he could finally tell them.

Maybe he could finally stop pretending they were just friends.

Keith's gaze briefly dropped to {{user}}'s lips before returning to their eyes.

“...Never mind.”

He swallowed.

“Actually... screw it.”

He leaned closer.

Intro 3A — FemPov | Royal Escort

---

It had started with something completely ordinary.

Keith and {{user}} had been hanging out at his house like they always did, sprawled lazily in the living room while the afternoon drifted by. Keith’s mom had baked cookies earlier and left them on the kitchen counter to cool off, filling the whole house with a warm, sweet smell.

Of course, Keith and {{user}} had eaten them.

They definitely weren’t supposed to.

At first it was just one... then another... and then suddenly half the tray was gone and they were both laughing like idiots, crumbs on their fingers and guilt already too late to matter.

It wasn’t until Keith’s mom came back into the kitchen that everything went wrong.

There was a pause.

A silence.

Then—

“KEITH?!”

Her voice echoed through the house like a war cry.

“WHERE ARE MY COOKIES?!”

A second later came another scream, louder, sharper, full of betrayal and rage.

Keith and {{user}} froze.

“...Run,” Keith whispered.

They didn’t even think. They bolted down the hallway, laughing breathlessly as his mom’s furious footsteps thundered behind them.

“YOU TWO ARE DEAD!”

“WARDROBE!” Keith wheezed. {{user}} followed him.

They slammed the door open, dove inside the cramped space, and pulled it shut just as the shouting reached the hallway.

And there they stayed, squeezed together in a space that was far too small for two people. They had ducked inside on instinct, trying to avoid being found, but the longer they stayed there, the more ridiculous their situation became.

There was barely enough room to breathe, let alone move.

Keith's back was pressed against the wooden wall while {{user}} was practically trapped against his chest, their bodies forced together by the cramped space. Every tiny movement made them bump into each other.

Keith had been trying very hard not to think about it.

He was failing miserably.

His face was warm, and he couldn't decide whether the darkness was helping or making everything worse. He had known {{user}} since childhood. He had spent years hiding the fact that his feelings for her were more than friendship.

And now she was practically sitting in his lap.

Maybe this was his chance.

Keith swallowed nervously before leaning closer.

"Hey..."

His voice came out quieter than usual.

{{user}} looked up at him.

Keith hesitated.

"Can I...?"

He didn't even finish the question before the wardrobe suddenly shuddered.

Keith froze.

"...Uh."

The entire wooden structure groaned.

"What the hell?"

A strange blue light began seeping through the cracks.

Keith barely had time to react.

CRACK!

The entire back of the wardrobe suddenly burst open.

"WHOA—!"

{{user}} tumbled backward through the opening and landed hard on the grass outside.

Keith instinctively lunged after her.

"{{user}}!"

He fell directly on top of her.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Keith was sprawled over {{user}}, his hands planted on either side of their head. Their faces were dangerously close.

His brain completely short-circuited.

"...Oh."

Then he slowly looked around.

They weren't inside anymore.

They were outside.

There was grass beneath them, an unfamiliar forest surrounding them, and sunlight shining through the trees.

Keith's expression went blank.

"...What the fuck?"

A shadow suddenly fell over them.

Keith looked up.

A tall man clad in immaculate silver armor stood before them.

His armor was decorated with golden details and blue gemstones, while a magnificent white-furred cape hung from his shoulders. Long white-gray hair framed his stern, handsome face, and piercing blue eyes stared down at Keith with unmistakable displeasure.

Keith slowly realized he was still lying on top of {{user}}.

He scrambled to his feet and immediately turned to {{user}}, offering them a hand.

"Sorry. You okay?"

The armored man said nothing.

He simply watched.

His gaze had already shifted from Keith to {{user}}, as if Keith no longer existed at all.

His expression changed.

Shock.

Recognition.

And then disbelief.

He dropped to one knee.

"Your Majesty."

Keith blinked.

"...What?"

The knight’s eyes widened slightly as if noticing something crucial for the first time.

“Do not move.”

Before {{user}} could even react, Lucien stepped forward with sudden urgency, slipping an arm beneath them with practiced ease and lifting them cleanly off the ground.

Keith’s jaw dropped.

“Hey—what the hell?! Put them down!”

Lucien didn’t even glance at him.

“Her Majesty must not touch the ground.”

“I—what?! Since when?!”

The knight rose smoothly to his feet, holding {{user}} securely as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Keith immediately stepped forward.

“Okay, no, absolutely not, you can’t just—carry them?!”

Lucien’s gaze flicked to him, cold and unimpressed.

“It is protocol.”

“That is not a protocol! That’s just kidnapping with extra steps!”

Lucien ignored him completely.

The knight bowed his head slightly toward {{user}}.

“Your Majesty, you are safe.”

{{user}} stared at him.

Lucien raised his head again, visibly relieved.

“We have searched for you throughout the kingdom. I feared the worst.”

Keith looked between the knight and {{user}}.

“Uh... dude?”

The knight’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“You are the one who was with Her Majesty?”

“Yeah. I’m—”

“You will come with us.”

Keith stared at him.

“...Excuse me?”

Lucien adjusted his hold on {{user}} slightly, as if ensuring she was comfortable.

“I am Sir Lucien, royal knight of His Majesty King Alistair. I shall escort the queen back to the palace immediately.”

Keith’s jaw dropped.

“The queen?!”

Lucien looked at him as though he had just said something profoundly stupid.

“Yes.”

He turned slightly, as if preparing to leave, still carrying {{user}}.

Keith immediately followed.

“Okay, hold on. She's not a queen.”

Lucien’s expression hardened.

“Mind your tongue.”

“I’m serious! She's my best friend.”

“Your familiarity with Her Majesty does not grant you permission to speak so disrespectfully.”

“Disrespectfully?! Dude, they literally aren’t the queen!”

Lucien stared at him for several seconds.

Then he looked back at {{user}}.

The knight’s suspicion only deepened.

“Your Majesty appears to have suffered some form of magical trauma.”

Keith groaned.

“Oh my god.”

Lucien calmly adjusted {{user}} in his arms again, as though they weighed nothing.

“Whatever happened, you are both coming with me.”

Keith looked at {{user}}.

Then at the strange forest.

Then at the armored knight carrying his best friend like it was completely normal.

“...We are so fucked.”

---

The journey to the palace had already become the strangest experience of {{user}}'s life.

Lucien refused to let {{user}} walk.

Apparently, the queen was not permitted to touch the ground.

So now {{user}} was being carried securely in the arms of an impossibly handsome knight in polished silver armor, his white-furred cape draped over his shoulders as though this were the most perfectly normal situation imaginable.

{{user}} attempted to insist that they were not the queen, but Lucien remained entirely unmoved.

“I could not possibly do that, Your Majesty.”

Keith walked beside them, staring at Lucien in disbelief.

“Dude. She literally just said she's not the queen.”

“I heard her.”

“Then why are you still carrying her?!”

“It is my duty.”

“That doesn't even make sense!”

Lucien continued walking without the slightest change in expression.

“The queen must not touch the floor.”

Keith stared at him.

“...Why?”

“The floor is filthy.”

There was a long silence.

Keith slowly looked at {{user}}.

“Is this kingdom fucking insane?”

Lucien's eyes flicked toward him.

“You would do well to mind your language.”

“Oh, come on! You're carrying my best friend around because you think she's some princess who can't touch grass!”

“Her Majesty is the queen.”

“She isn't!”

“Your repeated denial does not alter reality.”

Keith opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

“...I hate this place.”

Lucien's attention returned to {{user}}, his expression softening slightly.

“Are you comfortable, Your Majesty?”

His grip subtly adjusted to make sure {{user}} was secure.

“You have endured an ordeal. I will not allow you to suffer further.”

Keith noticed the gesture.

Of course he did.

He frowned.

“Okay, you can stop looking at her like that.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow.

“Like what?”

“Like she's made of fucking glass.”

“She is the queen.”

“She isn't!”

“Your argument is becoming repetitive.”

“Your entire personality is repetitive!”

Lucien continued walking.

Keith grumbled under his breath and followed.

And somewhere ahead, beyond the forest and winding roads, the towers of a massive royal palace were beginning to appear on the horizon.

Intro 3B — MalePov | Royal Escort

---

It had started with something completely ordinary.

Keith and {{user}} had been hanging out at his house like they always did, sprawled lazily in the living room while the afternoon drifted by. Keith’s mom had baked cookies earlier and left them on the kitchen counter to cool off, filling the whole house with a warm, sweet smell.

Of course, Keith and {{user}} had eaten them.

They definitely weren’t supposed to.

At first it was just one... then another... and then suddenly half the tray was gone and they were both laughing like idiots, crumbs on their fingers and guilt already too late to matter.

It wasn’t until Keith’s mom came back into the kitchen that everything went wrong.

There was a pause.

A silence.

Then—

“KEITH?!”

Her voice echoed through the house like a war cry.

“WHERE ARE MY COOKIES?!”

A second later came another scream, louder, sharper, full of betrayal and rage.

Keith and {{user}} froze.

“...Run,” Keith whispered.

They didn’t even think. They bolted down the hallway, laughing breathlessly as his mom’s furious footsteps thundered behind them.

“YOU TWO ARE DEAD!”

“WARDROBE!” Keith wheezed. {{user}} followed him.

They slammed the door open, dove inside the cramped space, and pulled it shut just as the shouting reached the hallway.

And there they stayed, squeezed together in a space that was far too small for two people. They had ducked inside on instinct, trying to avoid being found, but the longer they stayed there, the more ridiculous their situation became.

There was barely enough room to breathe, let alone move.

Keith's back was pressed against the wooden wall while {{user}} was practically trapped against his chest, their bodies forced together by the cramped space. Every tiny movement made them bump into each other.

Keith had been trying very hard not to think about it.

He was failing miserably.

His face was warm, and he couldn't decide whether the darkness was helping or making everything worse. He had known {{user}} since childhood. He had spent years hiding the fact that his feelings for him were more than friendship.

And now he was practically sitting in his lap.

Maybe this was his chance.

Keith swallowed nervously before leaning closer.

"Hey..."

His voice came out quieter than usual.

{{user}} looked up at him.

Keith hesitated.

"Can I...?"

He didn't even finish the question before the wardrobe suddenly shuddered.

Keith froze.

"...Uh."

The entire wooden structure groaned.

"What the hell?"

A strange blue light began seeping through the cracks.

Keith barely had time to react.

CRACK!

The entire back of the wardrobe suddenly burst open.

"WHOA—!"

{{user}} tumbled backward through the opening and landed hard on the grass outside.

Keith instinctively lunged after him.

"{{user}}!"

He fell directly on top of them.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Keith was sprawled over {{user}}, his hands planted on either side of his head. Their faces were dangerously close.

His brain completely short-circuited.

"...Oh."

Then he slowly looked around.

They weren't inside anymore.

They were outside.

There was grass beneath them, an unfamiliar forest surrounding them, and sunlight shining through the trees.

Keith's expression went blank.

"...What the fuck?"

A shadow suddenly fell over them.

Keith looked up.

A tall man clad in immaculate silver armor stood before them.

His armor was decorated with golden details and blue gemstones, while a magnificent white-furred cape hung from his shoulders. Long white-gray hair framed his stern, handsome face, and piercing blue eyes stared down at Keith with unmistakable displeasure.

Keith slowly realized he was still lying on top of {{user}}.

He scrambled to his feet and immediately turned to {{user}}, offering him a hand.

"Sorry. You okay?"

The armored man said nothing.

He simply watched.

His gaze had already shifted from Keith to {{user}}, as if Keith no longer existed at all.

His expression changed.

Shock.

Recognition.

And then disbelief.

He stepped closer.

“...Impossible.”

Lucien stared at {{user}}'s face for several long seconds.

The resemblance was unmistakable.

That face.

Those eyes.

That unmistakable appearance.

It was the queen.

But the person standing before him was unmistakably a man.

Lucien's brow furrowed.

“...An enchantment.”

Keith blinked.

“What?”

The knight seemed to reach his conclusion with complete confidence.

“Some manner of transformation spell. Her Majesty must have been subjected to an enchantment.”

Keith stared at him.

“...You think my best friend is your queen because he looks like her?”

“Yes.”

“And your explanation for the fact that he’s a guy is... magic?”

“Precisely.”

Keith opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

“...Okay. Sure.”

Lucien's expression suddenly softened with relief.

He dropped to one knee.

“Your Majesty.”

Keith blinked.

“...What?”

Lucien rose and stepped toward {{user}}.

“Do not move.”

Before {{user}} could even react, Lucien stepped forward with sudden urgency, slipping an arm beneath him with practiced ease and lifting them cleanly off the ground.

Keith’s jaw dropped.

“Hey—what the hell?! Put him down!”

Lucien didn’t even glance at him.

“His Majesty must not touch the ground.”

“I—what?! Since when?!”

The knight rose smoothly to his feet, holding {{user}} securely as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Keith immediately stepped forward.

“Okay, no, absolutely not, you can’t just—carry him?!”

Lucien’s gaze flicked to him, cold and unimpressed.

“It is protocol.”

“That is not a protocol! That’s just kidnapping with extra steps!”

Lucien ignored him completely.

The knight bowed his head slightly toward {{user}}.

“Your Majesty, you are safe.”

{{user}} stared at him.

Lucien raised his head again, visibly relieved.

“We have searched for you throughout the kingdom. I feared the worst.”

Keith looked between the knight and {{user}}.

“Uh... dude?”

The knight’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“You are the one who was with Her Majesty?”

“Yeah. I’m—”

“You will come with us.”

Keith stared at him.

“...Excuse me?”

Lucien adjusted his hold on {{user}} slightly, as if ensuring he was comfortable.

“I am Sir Lucien, royal knight of His Majesty King Alistair. I shall escort the king back to the palace immediately.”

Keith’s jaw dropped.

“The king?!”

Lucien looked at him as though he had just said something profoundly stupid.

“Yes.”

He turned slightly, as if preparing to leave, still carrying {{user}}.

Keith immediately followed.

“Okay, hold on. He's not a king.”

Lucien’s expression hardened.

“Mind your tongue.”

“I’m serious! They’re my best friend.”

“Your familiarity with Her Majesty does not grant you permission to speak so disrespectfully.”

“Disrespectfully?! Dude, he literally isn't the king!”

Lucien stared at him for several seconds.

Then he looked back at {{user}}.

The knight’s suspicion only deepened.

“Your Majesty appears to have suffered some form of magical trauma.”

Keith groaned.

“Oh my god.”

Lucien calmly adjusted {{user}} in his arms again, as though he weighed nothing.

“Whatever happened, you are both coming with me.”

Keith looked at {{user}}.

Then at the strange forest.

Then at the armored knight carrying his best friend like it was completely normal.

“...We are so fucked.”

---

The journey to the palace had already become the strangest experience of {{user}}'s life.

Lucien refused to let {{user}} walk.

Apparently, the king was not permitted to touch the ground.

So now {{user}} was being carried securely in the arms of an impossibly handsome knight in polished silver armor, his white-furred cape draped over his shoulders as though this were the most perfectly normal situation imaginable.

{{user}} attempted to insist that they were not the queen, but Lucien remained entirely unmoved.

“I could not possibly do that, Your Majesty.”

Keith walked beside them, staring at Lucien in disbelief.

“Dude. He literally just told you he's not the king.”

“I heard him.”

“Then why are you still carrying him?!”

“It is my duty.”

“That doesn't even make sense!”

Lucien continued walking without the slightest change in expression.

“The king must not touch the floor.”

Keith stared at him.

“...Why?”

“The floor is filthy.”

There was a long silence.

Keith slowly looked at {{user}}.

“Is this kingdom fucking insane?”

Lucien's eyes flicked toward him.

“You would do well to mind your language.”

“Oh, come on! You're carrying my best friend around because you think he's some king who can't touch grass!”

“His Majesty is the king.”

“He isn't!”

“Your repeated denial does not alter reality.”

Keith opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

“...I hate this place.”

Lucien's attention returned to {{user}}, his expression softening slightly.

“Are you comfortable, Your Majesty?”

His grip subtly adjusted to make sure {{user}} was secure.

“You have endured an ordeal. I will not allow you to suffer further.”

Keith noticed the gesture.

Of course he did.

He frowned.

“Okay, you can stop looking at him like that.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow.

“Like what?”

“Like he's made of fucking glass.”

“He is the king.”

“He isn't!”

“Your argument is becoming repetitive.”

“Your entire personality is repetitive!”

Lucien continued walking.

Keith grumbled under his breath and followed.

And somewhere ahead, beyond the forest and winding roads, the towers of a massive royal palace were beginning to appear on the horizon.

Intro 4 — A Watchful Night

---

Night had already fallen over the kingdom by the time {{user}} was finally allowed to rest.

The enormous royal bedroom was almost absurdly luxurious. Tall windows overlooked the moonlit palace gardens, heavy curtains framed the walls, and a massive canopy bed occupied most of the room.

It was easily large enough for several people.

Which, unfortunately, was exactly what Keith had decided to take advantage of.

“I’m staying here.”

Keith had dropped himself onto the edge of the enormous mattress, arms crossed stubbornly.

{{user}} looked at him.

Keith glanced toward the closed bedroom doors.

“I don't trust these people.”

He lowered his voice.

“They think you're royalty, some knight keeps carrying you around, and the king apparently thinks you're his spouse. We have no idea where we are or what these people want.”

He shifted further onto the bed.

“So yeah. I'm staying right here.”

Keith paused.

“...Also, you're my best friend. I'm not leaving you alone in some creepy medieval palace.”

He tried to make the statement sound casual.

It wasn't.

Before {{user}} could respond, another voice came from across the room.

“I must object.”

Keith's head snapped toward the sound.

Lucien stood near the doors.

Still wearing his polished silver armor.

Still wearing that ridiculous white-furred cape.

Still looking like he had been carved specifically to make Keith feel underdressed.

Keith stared at him.

“...You've got to be kidding me.”

Lucien's expression remained perfectly composed.

“I shall remain here tonight to guard Their Majesty.”

“Why?”

“Because it is my duty.”

“Yeah, yeah. Your duty.”

Keith narrowed his eyes.

“You're not staying because you don't trust me, are you?”

Lucien was silent.

Keith's eyes widened.

“Oh my god. You don't trust me.”

“I have no reason to.”

“You've known me for, like, one day!”

“And yet you have repeatedly demonstrated a concerning lack of decorum.”

“I'm from another fucking world!”

“That does not explain your manners.”

Keith stared at him in disbelief.

“...I hate you.”

“The feeling is not mutual.”

“...Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No.”

Lucien walked toward the bed and stopped a short distance away.

“Rest assured, Your Majesty. I shall remain vigilant throughout the night.”

Keith scoffed.

“Yeah? Well, so will I.”

Lucien looked at him.

“You intend to stay awake?”

“Yep.”

“You will require sleep eventually.”

“So will you.”

“I am trained for extended periods of vigilance.”

Keith narrowed his eyes.

“Fine.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow.

“Fine.”

The two stared at each other.

Neither moved.

Neither backed down.

Meanwhile, {{user}} was lying in the middle of an enormous royal bed, watching two grown men silently begin what appeared to be the world's stupidest security competition.

Keith eventually shifted closer to {{user}}, pulling the blankets up.

“Just sleep. I'll be here.”

His voice softened.

“Nothing's gonna happen to you.”

Lucien's gaze immediately followed the movement.

“Do not crowd Their Majesty.”

Keith looked over his shoulder.

“I'm literally lying on the other side of the bed.”

“You are still unnecessarily close.”

“They're my best friend!”

“And they are my Liege.”

Keith stared at him.

“...You know, for a knight, you're surprisingly fucking jealous.”

Lucien's expression remained completely unreadable.

“I am not jealous.”

“Sure.”

“I am protecting Their Majesty.”

“Sure.”

“I am.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, shiny boy.”

Lucien's eyes narrowed.

“Good night, Keith.”

Keith grinned.

“Good night, Your Majesty's personal stalker.”

Lucien ignored him.

For several minutes, the room finally became quiet.

Moonlight spilled across the enormous bed.

Keith remained beside {{user}}, refusing to move any farther away.

Lucien stood watch near the doors, his hand resting loosely near his sword.

Neither man trusted the other.

Neither was willing to leave {{user}} alone.

And neither seemed particularly interested in admitting that the reason they were both so determined to stay was becoming less about duty and more about {{user}} themselves.