Foreign Princess That Can Read Minds

by squishmellosandfanfics

Summary:

Day 3 — Rival Kingdoms

Damian thinks the portraits didn’t do her justice, and Anya is annoyed once again that she’s a princess.

Chapter 1

Anya didn’t want to be a princess. She’d rather be a spy, or an assassin. Maybe in another life her parents weren’t lame royalty. She knows she’s spoiled saying that, but it took a lot of choice out of the manner. 

 

Like the fact they were arranging a marriage with a rival kingdom to soothe relations. Her little brother got to be the King of Ostonia someday. She was to marry into the Westalia’s kingdom— to their second born, Damian Desmond. The first born, Demetrius Desmond, had disappeared in a mission long ago while going in search of the mountains of gold the fairies foretold would be revealed to him.

 

The only thing it revealed was the arrogance of man and the stupidity of first-born sons. 

 

But, at least the first time she’d meet him would be in her own home. The King, Queen, and their new first-born were coming over to meet their new daughter-in-law, the new Queen of Ostonia. 

 

The thing that they didn’t tell the neighboring kingdom was that Anya had a rare gift that hadn’t been seen since Merlin, that of the Esperrs. She could read minds. 

 

Her mother had nearly had a heart attack when the ability awakened when she was six. Her brother had just been born. 

 

Her father’s eyes gleamed.

 

”Anya, dear, it’s time,” one of her favorite maid’s knocked on the door— she was coming to Ostania with her, of course, because Anya could not bear to leave her here… especially knowing what nonsense her brother would get up to. Her maid, Fairley, opened the door with the hesitence only a friend who knew her well could, “Your highness?”

 

She scoffed at the difference in the way she addressed her. She huffed, standing from her little nook where she took to staring off into the distance, dreaming of adventure and fun. She fluffed out her dress, green to match her eyes, and she turned to Fairley with a raised eye, “The Desmonds have arrived?”

 

“Yes, your brother went to greet them,” she informed, “His and Her Majesty request you in the tea room.”

 

Of course they do. 

 

“If your Highness wouldn’t mind staying out of my head—“

 

“Well if you’d just call me Anya, we wouldn’t have an issue,” she scoffed, “Now then, continue packing my things, please. I shall see to it one of the others does yours.”

 

Fairley nodded, turning to look around with a sigh. 

 

“I find it odd you’d complain about your job—“

 

“Oh hush, you. Now go off,” she pushed her out the door. She made her way down the halls, elegaant pictures of her family on the walls. Her father stood tall, golden hair and serious eyes. He was a great father, for still being a good king, it was not often those things intertwined. Her mothers was next to him. Her dark red eyes held a symbol of truth as her black hair cascaded down her back. Her own was further down, and her brother’s still further down— his blonde hair and red eyes made her know he was the son of her parents. 

 

She didn’t always know herself.

 

But, she had her mother’s grit and her father’s unique ability to be able to tell when something was bullshit— even if she was a bit clueless for anything else. 

 

She was a bit annoyed she was being married off the second she turned 18, but at least the prince was only 18 as well. She could only imagine if she was a Lord or Lady status and forced to marry someone much, much older. She thought of her friend Becky Blackbell, who she’d also be bringing to Westalia with her as a sort of advisor. Her friend was very good at all sorts of politics. She was a real treat to keep around. 

 

But this was a battle only she could do. 

 

Opening the door, they were already there. Her parents, sitting in the seats accustomed to the King and Queen of the home country, and the Queen and King of the visiting kingdom sat across from them. The prince sat with his back towards her. When he noticed her arrival, he stood, turning to look at her. She resisted the urge to read his mind, instead taking him in. 

 

He looked similar to his mother, thank the gods, with green eyes and dark black hair. His face was sharp— sharp eyes, sharp jawline, sharp smirk— and he was tall. She had to look up. She tried to keep her cheeks flushing in attraction or embarrassment. Instead, she curtsied to her betrothed. 

 

“Prince Desmond,” she huffed, not bothering to look him in the eyes again for she feared she wouldn’t be able to drag her way out if she did, “It’s a pleasure.”

 

She turned to the King and Queen and curtsied even lower, “Your Majesties.”

 

The two of them nodded their heads with a small smile. 

 

She’s grown quite well. Though, I never understood that pink hair… The Queen thought, but the Queen had always been fond of her mother, she does have that same look Yor always does, the thought was borderline affectionate, Damian is truly lucky if the rumors are true.

 

Anya stilled. Had her powers traveled outside the kingdom? Word of it? 

 

Her thoughts turned to the King.

 

She will suffice. King Forger is correct, we must come to understand if we’re to defeat The Garden. They’re closing in… this marriage will assure our mutual success. Even if the Forgers are a bunch of—

 

She turned back to the prince, who was still staring. It made her cheeks turn as pink as her hair.

 

The portraits do not do her justice. She’s the most beautiful woman I have ever beheld.

 

After surveying the room, she walked over, sitting across from Damian, sitting like a proper lady.

 

”Well then, shall we begin?”

 

-

 

Anya blushed. This was entirely improper, but she supposed they were to be wed… they’d be doing much more improper things. The two of them were sent off to walk in the royal gardens, as their parents would be discussing trade agreements. 

 

“So.”

 

She turned up to look at him, tilting her head, “So?”

 

”Marriage.”

 

She tried not to giggle at the awkwardness of the man, as it was so different from what she’d heard about the entirely too reckless prince from before Demetrius had vanished, “Yes, that is to be the endgame of all this.”

 

He grinned down at her, as if he could read her mind and could sense her amusement, “Well, that’s good. I’m glad you’re not a hag.”

 

She scoffed, all forms of affection blown away, “Right. Like it wasn’t more likely for you to be an old bimbling bimbo !”

 

He huffed a laugh, oh she’s adorable, lord save me, “My apologies, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

 

Her cheeks flushed as the thought slammed against her defenses, she huffed, “Come, I want to show you my favorite part of the garden.”

 

He grinned, and offered his arm, to which she hooked an arm in it, the maids and butlers looking on with softness as their princess was becoming much more soft than they ever imagined. 

 

-

 

[A Month Later]

 

-

Of course it’s to be a long journey, why wouldn’t it be? Anya grumbled internally, sitting beside Becky and Fairley, although she had tried, both refused to share her pillows, making the princess keep it. Seeing as it was improper, Damian was with his aids— Ewen and Emile were their names. They kept themselves attached to his side unless he shooed them off (usually in terms of keeping Anya to himself, to which she had a growing affection for such lovely possessiveness. She only hoped it stayed sweet, like a gentle kiss of the wind). 

 

“Your highness?” Becky looked over to her, a raised eyebrow, “Are you alright? Is there anything I can get you?”

 

She huffed, “I am fine, Becky. And, need I remind you, as my aid, Anya is fine?”

 

She blushed, “Yes! Apologies,” she smiled, twirling her hair, “Apologies, Your— Anya.”

 

“I am myself,” she giggled at her stumble, “Thank you so much for reminding me.”

 

This banter between the three of them continued on, and they went on their business. Until the sun came down, and the group decided to stop for the night. She huffed as the servants (how she loathed that word) brought out the tents, setting it up for the royals. She noticed her tent was set next to Damian’s, and it made heat rush to her cheeks. How very improper. 

 

Before she could control it, there were thoughts from the guards surrounding her, entering her mind.

 

The Foreign princess is gorgeous, Prince Damian is a very lucky man.

 

She looks quite unique, even in terms of her parents. 

 

I wonder if the rumors are true. Is she listening in right now? Do her parents know?

 

She huffed, retiring to her tent, and doing her very best to ignore the looks of worry from her friends. She waved them off, and was glad they had to share a tent. It was good for them to get used to each other. 

 

Before she could gather her courage to leave, someone peeked in—Damian. 

 

He was holding dinner, and raised an eyebrow, as if asking if he could enter. She nodded her head, and he came in. 

 

“A princess shouldn’t be hungry,” he grinned, putting it down in front of her, “May I join you?”

 

“Considering you’re holding your own food, I expect you think the answer is yes?”

 

He laughed, “Very perceptive,” makes me doubt the rumors— what need would she need to read minds if she is so observant, “May I?”

 

“I suppose,” she huffed, blowing on the soup he brought her, and it reminded her of when she traveled with her parents, being taught of politics and other kingdoms and their cultures, it reminded her of her brother’s excitement when he finally joined them. How she missed her brother.

 

“As your… betrothed,” he looked awkwardly, and she forgot he was here for a moment. How she could, she doesn’t understand, he was simply breathtaking, “I have a question.”

 

She huffed, knowing the question, “Alright. But only i I may ask a question in return.”

 

He huffed in return, “But of course, anything for my betrothed.”

 

She grimaced, “Sure.”

 

He raised an eyebrow, can you read minds? 

 

She smiled, not expecting him to think it, “Yes.”

 

His eyes widened, “Fascinating.”

 

“If you tell a soul, it ruins the surprise,” she whispered, “I suspect it is the leading reason why I was given to you. Not because of strained relationships, but because of my gift. And the growing tensions in The Garden.”

 

He nodded, surprised when she leaned into his space, looking him up and down, before backtracking, “Would you be willing to talk to me more about the limitations and extensions of your gift?”

 

She huffed, “Curious prince,” she wrapped her arms around herself before saying, “I believe I have a question first.”

 

He straightened, embarrassed he’d forgotten his manners, “Of course! I apologize.”

 

She waved her hands, “I wish to know more about the home that will be my new one. Tell me about your parents, about when our ascension will be, and tell me of my role.”

 

His eyes softened, “That wasn’t a question.”

 

The two conversed till dawn, swaping stories of their homeland, cultures, Anya’s powers, and all of the above. But at the end of the night, Anya wasn’t resentful at the very least. She seemed a little more excited, if anything.

 

Damian seemed pleasantly surprised as she grabbed his hand when they left the tent in the morning, and his parents seemed very pleased.

 

Becky had a knowing glint in her eyes. 

 

Chapter 2

Summary:

Damian and Anya arrived in the Kingdom of Westalia, and the first thing Damian does is give the Princess a tour.

Notes:

TW - mention of sexual abuse/assault
TW - mentioned/referenced RAPE

Sorry this is shorter, but i thought this was the perfect amount of “stuff” for this chapter. Hope you enjoyed these cute regaurdless!

“Beautiful kingdom,” she notes as Damian takes her hand to help her down the stairs of her carriage. Not that she needs it. She knows herself to be capable, but she is a princess. She’d be damned if she embarrassed her family, even if she doesn’t know when she is to see them again.

 

With the exception of their marriage of course. 

 

There was also the matter of the… consummation. The thought made her scowl. She was never one to dwell on romance or especially sex. They were both freshly 18, which was considered old for a woman of her nobel status to be married. But, her parents were waiting for the right time to sell her off. 

 

She tried to bite back a scoff.

 

“I’d hope so. This is home now,” he smiled, “Ewen, Emile, show Becky and Fairely to their rooms. Bring Princess Anya’s to her closet. May I have the honor of giving you a tour, your highness?”

 

“I suppose,” she mused, “You are of equal social standing. You needn't call me your highness. Anya is fine.”

 

Oh my goodness! I’d hoped she’d say that! “I only wanted to seem less rude,” he grinned, and damn her, if this were another circumstance, perhaps she’d have kissed him for looking at her like that.

 

He grinned, “Would you prefer to freshen up?”

 

She scoffed, “Perhaps I do not want to get a tour from the rude prince—“

 

”That rude prince is your betrothed!” He recalled with a huff, “Come, I meant no harm.”

 

Anya preferred to shower once. She preferred to wash away the filth of the day at the end. Only then would she allow herself to rest. She liked to be dirty, because it meant she did something important. Like when she assisted at the commoner’s food kitchens, sneaking money from the treasuries to bring to them and make sure they kept alive. Or when she dug gardens under a disguise that was so horrid and hot but was worth it to see the joy on the children’s faces as they were given fresh food. Or when she helped patch up soldiers late into the night, after even those who knew not who she was ventured home. 

 

Because she wanted to help.

 

She hoped her betrothed was the same.

 

-

 

Princess Anya Forger was an anomaly in the kingdom, but a welcome sight, Damian concluded. 

 

Should you have asked Damian if he was wanting to marry at freshly 18 (nearly a year after his brother’s disappearance and his ascension to heir), he’d have smacked you in the face and told you to jump off a cliff.

 

Now, it didn’t seem so bad.

 

Not only had he heard of the rumors of her extraordinary abilities to always know what a neighboring King or Queen was thinking, or how she seemed to always know if someone was going to betray her father, she was kind. 

 

He’d snuck out with the commoners of Ostonia, and asked them about their princess. 

 

He’d received many, if not the same reply. 

 

“Princess Anya sneaks down with gold to care for the citizens, it’ll be a shame to see her go, but I reckon she’s had an influence on her brother.”

 

”Princess Anya is special. She cares. That much can’t be said for very much royalty at all.”

 

”She helps with the food kitchens, the water purifiers, making sure the magic is pure, and all that. She’s a right good princess. Prince Damian of Westalia is a lucky man.”

 

It made him happy. 

 

That was the type of prince— king— he wanted to be. Under his father’s rule, the citizen’s suffered. His mother was no better than his father, but she’d been falling into madness for quite some time. Demetrius, when he was here, speculated they were a loveless marriage, and she was a Nobel of a faraway country who’d been offered to father for the right price. 

 

It made sense. 

 

There were some nights where she’d look at him and he knew. He saw the resentment, the hatred… and sometimes, Damian wondered if the only reason she’d not killed herself was because of the boys. 

 

He wonders if she will when he becomes king and is not needing his momma anymore.

 

Perhaps he will always need her. 

 

But, Demetrius and he are her greatest regrets. 

 

(But sometimes, when he was listening to the maids gossip, he heard. He heard that his mother loved his older brother. That Damian was her regret. That his father had forced himself upon her, impregnating her, and bringing forth Damian. It was his greatest secret, the urge to sob violently when he heard the first time. Because how could he blame her… but how could he blame himself?)

 

”Damian, if we’re going to be walking, I’d much prefer all that attention on me. I’ve got books I could be reading, or magic I could be studying,” she huffed, poking her tongue out in a way that was quickly becoming endearing. 

 

That’s when he saw a glimpse of the princess others spoke of. The one who could sense anything. The rumors seemed to be true. Not that he didn’t know. She told him, of course, and he held onto that secret like a vow. Of course, she’d know if he said anything.

 

“That I would,” she huffed, smacking his cheeks, which surprised him as she was now standing in front of him, with her hands on her hips, looking utterly displeased at the whole thing, “Damian. We’re here to get to know each other. If I’m to be married to you my whole life, I’d like to know a bit about you!”

 

Damian huffed, “That only makes sense. I told you of your new home in the tent, so I suppose it only makes sense I tell you of the heir today. My name is Damian Desmond, second son to Donovan Desmond, King of Westalia. My brother, Demetrius, was the heir for a very long time, until his disappearance over a year ago. My mother was grief-stricken, and her madness has escalated since. But, if you wish to know the borning details, my favorite color is green,” he glanced down at her eyes, “I am becoming quite fond of pink, however,” and grinned when her cheeks turned a bright pink, “I like walks with my dog. I enjoy hikes alone, although there are required guards following. But they usually stay near, but quite far enough I can pretend. Ewen and Emile are my closest friends, even if they work for my father, and therefore me. I sense you have the same situation.”

 

She huffed, “Quite a bit of information,” but he knew she was remembering all of it. For some reason, she seemed like she cared, “I… thank you for telling me,” her hand reached for his, before pulling back like it burned. She turned and stalked off into the gardens, and he followed after with amusement dancing in his eyes. 

 

-

 

Anya was not amused. 

 

She’s so fierce. I cannot believe this is my intended. 

 

Growling as she turned to snap at him, “Do you not remember what I’ve shared with you? Why are you being so loud?”

 

He huffed, amused, “I haven’t said a word.”

 

Oh she wanted to smack this pretty boy right in the mouth. Perhaps in another life, she’d punch him straight across the face. 

 

As if getting this memo, Damian put his hands up in defense, “Apologies, Princess Anya,” emphasizing her title, as if knowing she hated it, “Come, I want to show you the flowers.”

 

Anya grumbled, following after her stupid betrothed. This was for the good of both Ostonia and Westalia. Both of those countries were going to better themselves from this marriage, she reminded herself, even if her future husband and king was a right idiot. 

 

Huffing once again, she found the area to be quite beautiful. There were flowers everywhere, different kinds from forget-me-nots to daisies to lilies to Lily of the Valleys, and it made her want to swoon. In the middle, there was a beautiful fountain, etched in the stone was the name “Desmond” and that did make her want to squirm. Of course, her name was to be Desmond too soon enough. She continued looking around before her eyes landed on a bench. Smiling, she walked over, and sat. 

 

“Well?”

 

“I suppose you’re forgiven,” she turned her head to see him looking at her. How could he look at her when she was the very one taking everything from him? Being a bachelor, or whatever it was boys liked to do when they were freshly 18? “But… do try and keep your thoughts down. I’m getting better at blocking everyone’s out, but yours are proving to be a tad difficult.”

 

He grinned, nodded, and then looked back at the garden, “This was my mother’s.”

 

”She’s still alive. It’s still her garden.”

 

Damian just smiled sadly, “It’ll be yours, when you’re the Queen.”

 

When my mother passes, it shall be yours. That is sure to happen sooner than my ascension to the throne.

 

“Damian,” Anya whispered, grabbing his hand, full of much more bravery than she knew herself to be full of, “It’s going to be okay.”

 

”I guess I’m still quite loud, huh?”

 

”I suppose so.”

Chapter 3

Summary:

daddy's home (its me)

anyways this is some fluff about how these two are getting along, next chapter soon

Notes:

hey sorry I went MIA for like 5 months school actually kicked my ass and I broke up with my long-term boyfriend of three years so !

Anya laid in bed until three that day. 

 

Damian hadn’t summoned her for her duties. The King and Queen had not required her for lunch or anything silly like that. So, she stayed in bed. Where it was safe. Where it was quiet . 

 

She liked quiet. 

 

Like she’s mentioned, thoughts can be loud. Thoughts can be overpowering. She’s begun practicing shielding the out, through self-teaching and reading the diaries of an ancient espurr, Merlin. 

 

According to her father, Merlin was an ancient ancestor on his side. So perhaps that explained Anya’s mind-reading ability in an already astoundingly magical world. Despite the magic that flowed through her world, her ability to read minds was precious and rare. Not many had the power of the mind, especially not when it came to reading them. 

 

Anya had been brought to many, many meetings with her father over the years, hence why so many people recognized her, and she’d let him know if they were being genuine or not. It was invaluable. 

 

That’s part of why she doesn’t understand why she was given away. She was an asset! 

 

She was an asset. 

 

Blinking, she brought herself back to reality. Realizing there was a knock on the door, she dressed into something more appropriate, and opened the door.

 

Prince Damian in all his glory stood there with a shit-eating grin, and more and more Anya was considering running away in the middle of the night. But then it softened. 

 

Her heart softened in return.

 

”Good afternoon, Princess Anya.”

 

”Hello Prince Damian, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

”No need to sound so forced,” he laughed, “My mother and father wished me to inform you that we’re to have dinner tonight, all four of us, and get to know one another.”

 

Anya raised an eyebrow. Perhaps that’s why she hadn’t been summoned all day. This dinner was going to be the death of her. 

 

“Thank you,” she curtsied, turning to close her door, when the door stopped, “Is there something else I can help you with, Prince Damian?”

 

”I wanted your opinion on something.”

 

Oh great, she huffed, “Well, let’s hear it then.”

 

”May I come in?”

 

Huffing, she opened the door to her quarters and led him to the little tea table in the middle, much farther away from her bed. 

 

“Well?” She huffed, but was surprised when he pulled her chair out for her, before sitting down and raising an eyebrow, “What do you need?”

 

”My father is sending me on a diplomatic mission. As my future Queen,” and as a mind-reader “I’d like you to come.”

 

She scoffed, “Please do at least be honest about it,” she raised an eyebrow, “I know the true reason I am wanted. I am proficient at magic, and I am an asset.”

 

“Yes, well, you caught me. Perhaps I was trying to be dramatic, my dear Anya,” he bit back a laugh causing her heart to swell. She liked that, my dear Anya, and continued to listen to what she’d be doing.

 

“But, yes, I will go,” she interrupted, “especially if my king commands it.”

 

“Firstly, I am not King yet. Secondly, I will never command anything from you. You are your own person. Make decisions, and I will support them. I would hope to be a part of discussions and negotiations, but ultimately you are capable, and I want… to be your partner, not just the prison guard keeping you in a cage.”

 

Anya would not tell him for many years, but this was the beginning of when she started to fall. She knows in another world this is the bare minimum, to be treated equally in this world was rare. Even powerful witches were reduced to housewives, and Queens were typically secondary to their King. What the king said was law. But, it sounded like Damian wanted the whole her. It made her heart flutter.

 

“A-ah,” she bowed her head to hide her growing blush, and nodded, careful to keep her head out of reach, “Yes well, what time is dinner?”

 

“5pm sharp,” he replied, “Shall I send for Fairely to start your packing?”

 

She nodded, “I will see you soon, Damian.”

 

-

 

She was wearing a long green gown, typical of her past Kingdom’s colors, which she chose to sport until her marriage was official. It went down to her ankles, it was much like a ball gown in how much it stretched out. She wondered briefly if this was appropriate. She had made herself look professional as possible, with slight blush and her lashes done. Her hair was down, brushed, as she took a deep breath. 

 

She was Anya Forger. She could do this. 

 

She opened the door to see Damian about to knock on it. She glanced at him up and down and resisted the urge to sigh in satisfaction. He was handsome, that was for sure. His hair was styled again, looking purposefully mussed, with his face being completely clear of anything like pimples. His suit reminded her of old novels she used to read where princes and businessmen alike would wear these suits that were all black and made no sense, but Damian managed to make it look good.

 

“I came here to walk you,” he explained quickly, like it was a crime to be here, “Er. Sorry.”

 

Anya giggled, before grabbing his arm, “Well then, your highness, show me the way.”

 

Damian rolled his eyes, and adjusted to where her arm looped inside of a circle he was making with his arm to keep one hand on his stomach. It was proper, prim even. She seemed amused, as if she was recounting his inner dialogue. 

 

Making fun of people’s thoughts is cruel.

 

Yes well, it’s fun to see you squirm.

 

Damian snapped his head towards Anya, who was looking forward in amusement, as if she knew what this would do to him. Rumors talked about reading minds, not that she could speak into your mind. 

 

Before you flip, it’s a recent discovery. Haven’t had anyone worth trying it on. My father included.

 

So you’re saying I’m the only one who knows.

 

Good job you can use your brain.

 

I’ll have you know-

 

Before he could continue the thought, the arrived at the private banquet hall, where two guards opened the door and announced to the King and Queen:

 

“Prince Damian Desmond and Princess Anya Forger.”

 

The King and Queen looked pleased they arrived together, so Anya assumed that was why the prince decided to come get her, to keep her from embarrassing herself. She appreciated it. 

 

She curtsied, and rose when they nodded their approval. Damian pulled back her chair for her across the way from his mother, before sitting next to her and across from his father. 

 

“We’re so happy you could join us for a family dinner,” the Queen’s eyes were sharp, calculating but there was something else behind those eyes, something deranged. She wondered if what she had seen in Damian’s head reflected this- a sort of madness unrelated to anything seen between the family. But both the King and Queen kept their thoughts under wraps, their shields were impeccable. She expected nothing less, unfortunately for them, she had also mastered her craft, she mentally imagined the walls that held their minds, and simply “jumped over it”. 

 

Hm, she seems to be acclimating well. I wonder how Damian is handling it. 

I want to know more about her mind reading ability. What are the limits? 

 

How much does Damian know? 

 

Anya bit back a sigh and smiled back, “It’s a pleasure. Thank you for your continued hospitality.”

 

The King waved his hand, “Nonsense, you’re to be the princess of this nation with your marriage in a couple months.”

 

No shit , Anya couldn’t help but think as she smiled politely, like her father had taught her. 

 

“Father, I want to bring Anya with me on the diplomatic assignment, as I hope she will be helpful.”

 

Donovan tilted his head before nodding, any espurr would be an excellent companion. It seems they are quite close for being betrothed… “Sounds like a solid plan. Perhaps you two can go over the assignment before you leave in a week?”

 

“Yes father.”

 

“Yes, your majesty.”

 

The rest of dinner was normal, if boring. Anya couldn’t find it in herself to care about internal politics until she was officially married, but Becky had been practically begging her to read up on something, anything, because she was starting to seem out of it. It was amusing taking what the Desmonds say out loud and comparing it to the inside thoughts, though, she would admit. 

 

But, nothing compared to the way Damian’s thoughts revolved around her.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of DamiAnya Week 2024