The Duchess, Guy, & Dude

As Duchess Mirabel of Eldenford, I prided myself on wit, taste, and never once fainting in a corset. So imagine my horror when two men—polar opposites in both style and substance—barged into my rose garden mid-duel.

"You call that a parry?" the taller one barked—regal, precise, hair somehow untouched by battle.

Guy. The kingdom's most uptight knight.

His opponent, however, dodged with a grin and shouted, "If I hit you, do I get the last muffin?"

Dude. Shirt half-open, sword backwards, attitude reckless. Naturally, both claimed to be my assigned bodyguard.

I was doomed.

Guy arrived every morning at precisely seven o'clock. Dude stumbled in whenever the sun hit his face just right. Guy addressed me as "Your Grace." Dude called me "Sunshine."

And despite myself, I laughed more with Dude. But I relaxed with Guy.

They hated each other with a quiet, simmering passion. My palace staff started betting on who'd throw the first punch.

Unfortunately, I was kidnapped. Again. To no one's surprise but my own.

They both came for me. Together.

"We had a plan," Guy snapped, parrying expertly.

"Yeah, and I ignored it!" Dude shouted, swinging from a chandelier.

It was violent. It was messy. It was… kind of romantic.

Back home, muddy and triumphant, I found myself staring at two idiots—one polished, one scruffy. Both loyal. Both infuriating. Both… mine?

"Mirabel," Guy said softly, "I would protect your life with my own."

"Same," Dude added. "Also, I brought wine."

And I—ever practical—decided: why choose?

Now, we dine together. We spar together. We…

Well. Some details are best left unwritten.

All I'll say is this:

Every duchess should be so lucky to have a sword on each side—and love in between.