#prince hal x fem! reader

[smolvenger]

The Battle of Agincourt (Henry V/fem! Reader Oneshot)

Word Count: 7K

Summary: As his wife and queen, you follow your husband, Henry the Fifth to France for his battles. It is the morning of the battle of Agincourt, and you don't know if he will make it out alive. You spend one last moment of passion together.

Warnings: NSFW 18+ SMUT! SMUT! (We get TWO smut scenes in one onshot! P in V sex, missionary, doggy style, edging, medieval dirty talk, praise, slight degradation and edging breast play, degradation, bits of power play, doing the deed standing up-legit one of the filthiest things I've written in a long time!). Mentions of war and brief mention of sexual assault and death. Lots of angst, but also some fluff.

A/N: Based off of a dream I had. Enjoy!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract (you can just skip the wedding night and barn scene and you will be good, bestie) @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner@littlespaceyelf@superficialdomina @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr

You never forgot the day you were introduced to the man you loved.

You were sent there to the castle. An alliance between your father and the new king of England was being considered. Nothing confirmed, you were told by your father. Only consideration.

“He is a single man. And young. He needs more for his army, his lands…and that is secured with a marriage,” he told you.

 The one key to sealing it.

You.

A marriage between you and this king. Many men in his army sealed with one woman being brought to his bed. And it might be you.

 You had heard he was a wild boy, Harry Monmouth, Prince Hal. But everyone assured you that he had somehow matured. No sooner than his father died but he had been far calmer, more responsible. He spent his hours studying rather than drinking.

But you were still nervous. When the day arrived for this alliance to be discussed, your father asked you to dress in your best. Looking in the mirror as you squeezed your mother’s hand, you wondered; am I good enough for a king’s glance? Perhaps if you had more jewels and walked in with the richest silks like a shining diamond, then he would take note. Still, bedecked in your finery, you headed off and were greeted at the castle. You were stopped, awaiting the signal.

“If the king decides he would like to meet you…then be ready,” he warned.

It might not happen at all, you wondered.

You did hear voices outside the thick door. Seeping through. No doubt there would be advisors and other lords to talk to the king. But there was one voice-he sounded young, indeed. He had a resonant, powerful voice- rich and commanding. But smooth too. The sort to command a legion but could also whisper gentle words to his lover.

 As you stood, wondering how long you both could wait, the door opened, and you jumped.

“His Majesty, King Henry the Fifth, would like to meet you,” the servant announced.

Just for consideration. Nothing permanent. Not yet, you thought. You were grateful your dresses were long. They would hide your shaking legs. You nodded, remembering basic etiquette as you gripped your father’s arm.  

The door opened and you both walked inside, your steps echoing throughout the stone castle. You took in your surroundings despite the air in your lungs almost stopping. The high windows with the orange sunlight. The long candles for light. The weaving of Saint George on the back wall. A wooden throne with tall, stone steps. There, you saw your father. A few lords in the back-old men with scarves for hats and long cloaks.

And in the center of it, turning towards you, was a young man. A young man with a crown- Henry the Fifth. The young king.

Extremely handsome. A head full of his auburn curls, his small, neat beard. His blue eyes were soft when he looked at you and a red leather doublet framed his lean body well. There were chairs about and you were led to sit in a chair some distance away.

Your father and the king began to talk. Keeping an appropriate distance. But you couldn’t help but admire the handsome, young king. If he were just an ordinary man going down the street, you would have indulged in ogling him. But you could not, you felt yourself get warm as you kept your eyes demurely on the floor when he caught you watching. Their voices became murmurs. Then the king turned to you.  

“You are the Lady Y/N…” he began.

He gestured to you to rise from your chair, you gave him a curtsy.

“I am, your grace,” you replied.

He walked up closer. You could hear his footsteps. You made your own breath slower. You could feel yourself sweat like it was July in Italy. You forced your eyes down, feeling your shaking going to your hands.

“You need not be shy, my lady,” he said.

You then looked up. Eyes onto him.

“Could you take two steps closer, my lady?” he asked.

You did. He walked around you in a circle, seeing all of you. You let him, though your heart was roaring in your ears. Feeling his eyes all over his potential bride- you. Once he stepped out, completing his circle, your eyes met his. Perhaps that was bold, considering his position- your lord and sovereign of your country. But nothing in him deterred.

“Are you well?” he asked.

“Very well, your grace.” You replied.

Henry turned to your father, looking at him, but only taking a step back.

“Sir…you have not offered me some mortal woman…” he began.

You folded your hands and did your best to mask your dread. Oh no, was he about to Call you something bad? How would you endure the humiliation of being not only rejected but insulted by the king of England mere minutes of meeting him!? You would have to spend your life under a rock in the woods to save your dignity. You looked up to him with big eyes and felt your body brace itself. To hold in the tears and anger of such a moment with as much false calm as you could. Awaiting the blow of the king's insult.

But no blow arrived.

Henry then smiled, eyes turning between you and your father.

“Here before me is an angel from heaven! A woman too lovely for us mere men!” King Henry the Fifth announced.  

One did not recover from such a statement quickly. "Shock" was not quite the word fitting for how you felt. No, it was this. Utter and pure delighted surprise. Your breath quickened. You felt a smile grow on you. Your heart picked up again as he walked closer to you.

“Thank you, your grace…do you fear blasphemy from such words?” you asked.

“Not if it is the truth, just as scripture is,” he added with a wink.

Your mind went blank at his wink, his smile. Hot and your mind spinning. Your mouth kept running from the excitement. But still polite.

“You are generous, your grace.”

He went up to you.

“Could you…call me Henry? Or Harry? Hal, even?”

“I could…Henry,” you replied.

 You watched Henry turn to your father and shake his hand. The alliance went through. With a flourish, he signed the treaty and the agreement to marry you.

“Ah, my lucky little girl…now about to be queen of England!” your father would say later, kissing your cheek.

Henry (for now he was more than just the king, but your intended!) would often invite you to visit. Giving you tours of every room and corner of the castle.

“After all, it’s going to be your home!” he would claim.

Or, to the most shock of anyone, he would visit your home himself to see you. Fine dinners would be served, and he would sit by you as you sewed, smiling like a schoolboy just to be beside you.  

A chaperone was always present, but quiet in the back. A smiling shadow upon you two. Henry wrote you numerous letters and you wrote back to him when he was away. It was easier to like him the more he spent time with you. If not, be infatuated with him. Maybe even love him as the months to the wedding passed. He showered you with gifts and lovers’ tokens. Little ribbons and pieces of jewelry and belts and scraps of paper with love poetry.

The first time he held your hand, you thought you saw him tremble a little. His thumb went over the skin of yours. He was very soft- not pressing or squeezing your own. You felt as if you could float.

The first time he kissed you was the day before the wedding. You were both walking in the gardens. With the sun gentle and the flowers in bloom, it was just like a dream. Your chaperone was in the back, her arms folded before her. Then Henry stopped his steps and turned to you.

“Could I kiss you…on the lips, Y/N?” he asked, his eyes hopeful like a puppy.

You didn’t have the heart to say no. How fortunate that you wanted to. You felt yourself swallow hard and then nod your head.

“Yes,” you answered.

 He tipped your chin to meet him and kissed you. It was gentle.  Chaste, even. You felt his soft lips and nothing else.  But it was…loving. Your knees wobbled again. You felt the breath from his nose. He was so close. So, so close. He felt…good. He let go, the lips clicking as they retracted. Both of your eyes were still closed. When you opened, he relaxed and let out a smile. You opened your mouth a little but had no words.

“Your kiss has a power to it, Y/N,” he whispered.

“I will use them with caution, then,” you replied teasingly.

You then returned to wrapping an arm around his and continuing walking. Both you and your chaperone shared a look, giving an appreciative nod. Something was growing inside you for him. Something…more.  

 You couldn’t deny that Henry was the most handsome man you had ever lain eyes on. His broad back and his slender waist. His winning smile, large, gentle hands, cheekbones, tall height, soft blue eyes- all beautiful.

And desirable.

He was lean and strong-what did he look like beneath his leather and velvet? If you were honest with yourself, you couldn’t wait for your wedding…and your wedding night. You often indulged in secret glances at his codpiece and his behind whenever he turned around-his pants flattered him. And both sides were something to see. The beautiful curls- a mix of red and blonde that he combed back. You wondered what it would be like to touch. Even pull! That was from what you learned from others of what happened between a husband and wife before the big day. Henry’s beard made him look mature and dignified. Not some pranking, whooping boy- a man. A man who knew how to take care of a woman in bed.

Even among your tours of the castle, he never took you to your private chambers. But whenever you passed by the hall with those large, wooden doors right at the end of a small passageway, you couldn’t help but grin.

Already tingly and titillated at the thought of the night, you kept your smile when they dressed you on your wedding day. It was joyous. Your gown was made with the finest while silk with little pearl embellishments and a jeweled belt. No one would doubt you were Queen of England already. Your father led you out. When you were placed on Henry’s left at the door of the chapel, you could see his smile on you- already bedecked in red with his crown. The ceremony felt far too long. But you held yourself together like a giddy child on a festival. The mass and prayers came and went. Henry made his vows before an altar as did you. Then the priest made the sign of the cross over you two.

It was done. You were married to him now. The second the priest let his hand down, bells all over the city- no, not just the city, England itself it-chimed out. Flower petals were tossed your way as you both walked out through the city, presented to the people as a couple.

There were enough guests that it seemed like half the world’s population was there at the feast. Your friends and family, those you loved dearly, were invited.  A thankful distraction from your growing physical desire for your husband (to think! Henry was now your husband!!). They embraced you and wished “Y/N, oh much congrats!” to you. You never felt such beaming love from everyone you cared for as that day. You hugged and chatted and celebrated with the people you loved. Henry smiled at you and kissed your hand with such tenderness your heart could burst. The feast tasted sweet, and the music played even sweeter.

 The room became darker, and servants lit more candles. Guests were leaving. It was announced that there would be a bedding ceremony. It was finally time, you thought with trepidation. Musicians played songs as the party led you to Henry’s chambers through those stone halls. Henry was adorably nervous. You saw his hands twitch and when you brushed close to him. Oh, no doubt you were nervous too. Any rational person in your situation would be nervous. You considered yourself such. But you were also…excited. Ready.

You entered the bedroom. It was large. Fitting for the king. Once it was your father-in-law’s room- the late Henry the Fourth. Now it was your husband’s. It was full of lit candles with tall stained-glass windows, and a white stone floor with black squares. A large bed with a dark canopy full of gold-colored fleur-de-lys patterns, cream pillows, and thick, dark blankets.

Servants undressed you from that beautiful wedding dress. They undressed Henry too until both of you were in your shifts. You couldn’t help but notice how the collar peeked at a beautiful, broad chest-just open enough to see a peek. It seemed as beautiful as you imagined. It made more shivers of desire run through you. You were given a cup of spiced wine that you both sipped from. It felt as sacred as a Eucharist- he looked at you as you drank and as he drank. An offering of something shared-how now you would be joined as one. The bed was now an altar and lovemaking a rite.

 After the bishop blessed the bed, Henry dismissed every courtier. He thanked them for celebrating with him but insisted on privacy. They bowed and left. For the first time, you both were truly alone. He then turned to you.

“How are you, your Highness?” he asked, noting your new title, he took your hands, running a thumb over them.

“It was a long day…but a happy one. I’m a little tired…. but I’m well…,” you answered.

“I’m glad you are, Y/N…” he replied.

Smiling at him, You cupped his cheek and moved his arms to embrace you. He blinked in slight surprise.

“You can hold me…husband,” you said, relishing the taste of the word.

The most you did throughout your betrothal was hold hands. But he obliged and put his long arms around you. He smelled of wine and a bit of incense from the ceremony at the church. With his thumb, he gently traced your face.

“If Satan himself would look at you, he would weep and confess for forgiveness at once…Y/N, Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Yes- please kiss me,” you replied.

Then he kissed you. But you kept him there. Pressed against you. God’s blood, that beautiful man right near you, against you, on you- feeling his warmth, his body on yours. You wanted more. You then grabbed him and kept kissing him again and again. He felt so warm and soft…except for one part of him you could feel against you. And no codpiece to cover for it. You bit back a giggle at the new feeling, knowing that he really felt the same despite his wide eyes and blushing cheeks. And your body replied in turn. It was as if lightning was coursing through you.  It made you wetter than the sea. Preparing yourself for him.

Oh, and you were more than ready. And this was a perfect time for it. You grabbed onto him. Then began to lead him to the bed with a smile, walking up two little elevated steps that led to the bed strewn with flowers and ribbons for this night. For this moment. For this act. Then right before the bed, your fingers went to the strings of your shift on the collar that held it together-the only layer over you.

Henry’s jaw dropped a little, looking down and then back up to your face. Even if you saw an outline of his desire through his shift, his eyes grew wide.

“Y/N …are you…sure?” he asked.

You undid the tie, showing the valley of your cleavage. You felt his eyes flutter down then forced back up at yours.

“Henry…I want you to take me. Make love to me- make love to your wife tonight!” you insisted quietly.

“I did not wish to…to push you to…to…uh, consummate the marriage before you...you wanted to…” he replied meekly.

The most powerful man in the world and here he was at a loss of words. To think this was once the tavern boy caught with prostitutes!

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Henry…I want you…take me on your bed…you are my king….rule me and have me here then….” You whispered.

You led his hands to push the rest of your shift off. Leaving you bare before him. His eyes finally drank all of you in.

That was enough to persuade him.

He pushed you down and was on top of you.  Like an animal released from his cage, his kisses had a little more fire to them. His hands began to roam greedily over your body. Down your chest, feeling one of your breasts as he kissed you. Then down your stomach, over your hip bones- feeling each bit of you. He began to pant heavily, his eyes full of eager joy and a playful lust in his smile.

Then you helped to take off his shift. You nearly forgot to breathe at the sight of Henry’s naked body. His strong abdominals and arms. His large chest with a few black hairs. Of course, his own cock was so hard and large you bit back the urge to gasp at the sight of it.  You laid down on the bed, smiling at him.

“Please, Henry…I ache for you…” you urged. Splaying your body before him on his bed. Feeling like a siren. Only he was no hesitant prey.

He pulled himself over you, taking one hand of his to position your legs to open, shifting his weight on top of you.

“I always wondered what this night would be like…what it would be like the moment I saw you…” he whispered.

He looked at you, cupping your cheek. Seeking permission as he settled himself, his tip just at your entrance’s beginning.

“Henry…I’m ready…” you urged him.

Not wanting to keep you waiting any longer. Not able for himself to wait any longer. He then positioned himself. Slowly, he entered you. Inch by agonizing inch. You writhed beneath him, moaning as he got inside.

“Oh! Oh-oh God!” you cried. He was big. You could feel him creeping in deep, almost like your stomach could be penetrated from his largeness. You clung onto the sheets tight, and his own hand went over yours.

He himself let out a grunt when he finally shifted all his cock inside you. There was a little pain, but it fizzled out. You were full-and it was heavenly You held onto him. He pulled his hips back and began to slowly enter you again and again. You groaned with each delicious thrust of his.

“Yes…nrgh-my wife-you-gods-my wife-my sweet wife-“he whispered with each snap.

You opened your arms as well as your legs, holding onto him. He repeated your name again. Kissing you tenderly on the side of your head when he could. A mess of groans and kisses and praise was all the king could say. His arms stretching around to keep you in his embrace.

Then he used one hand and lifted your legs up to a new position- a little deeper. Your knees went up. You let out little cries with each slow, sloppy movement. Each welcome intrusion of him to your insides. You had never known pleasure as much as this.

“Yes…oh gods…Henry…Henry I…oh!” you breathed out.

Your head lay on those cream pillows. Soft as clouds. With the dark bed canopy and the roaring fire, the rain outside pattering the windows, there was never a lovelier, more peaceful night. His curls fell before his face. He kept at it- thrust, thrust, thrust. His shallow breathing above you, and the moans that escaped you that were far from maiden modesty.

 He held you. He gave you an open kiss as he thrust forward for one. He began to mutter more.

“Yes…nrgh- yes, -my little queen…doing so well…”

More little noises came out of you. And you heard his voice get only a little higher in pitch. And yet he continued, only barely picking up the pace. You wrapped your hands to him and ran one through the curls on his head- how soft they felt, like little auburn feathers.  How soft the bed was-a feathered mattress against your bare skin as it slide back and forth slowly against it with each snap of his kingly hips. Henry slowed one thrust but would give you a little kiss- your cheek, the side of your face.

“God’s blood-my wife-nrg-sweet wife-oh-yes-taking-taking me…”

He kept at it. Then he reached down. He found your entrance, the very beginning where your lips and walls. He talked softly in between thrusts.

“I’m…I’m close, and I think….I think you are too, my little wife- I…yes…come undone, come undone with me…”

 He reached inside and you gasped from the feeling. He found your bud, his finger curling with it, stroking it with each thrust. You let out another gasp. He smiled.

“Let go wife-nrgh-let it…let it-“

 He began to strum it. Then everything overwhelmed you. You were spinning higher and higher. His kisses and hands already felt your bud and with his playing. You felt yourself winding up, curling up inside. You shook so hard. You wondered if you were going to die from the overwhelm, from the rising feeling, the intensity. His thrusts picked up the pace, you felt it growing, growing, growing.

Then finally, something hit you so suddenly, so hard-your body clenching and releasing all at once you let out a loud cry as the sensation hit you like cold air.

“Ah!”

A last thrust, the king of England came undone and let out his own small shout of pleasure. Then he stopped his thrusts. He stayed inside you, letting his seed rope itself. Then he held you, held you tight as he came inside you. It seemed as if the world itself stopped.

 Once it was done, he pulled out but kept close to you. Caressing your cheek. Panting hard, his broad, strong chest rising with his breaths.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I feel…I’ve never felt so good, husband,” you replied with a giggle as you pulled him forward to wrap your arms and kiss him until both fell asleep.

He did turn out to be a good husband. Always listening, gentle, and enthusiastic about his role. He listened to your own advice and always took you seriously. He was aggressively faithful, shutting down even the idea of a mistress if any lord was foolish enough to suggest it. He spent time with you. There were so many times you would hold him to your chest and hum, playing with his curls. You learned from each other and challenged each other to do better each day. Be it in a game of chess or in court. He made you feel…safe. Wanted. Loved, even. Not to mention he was a passionate lover in bed. If your one duty was to bed the king, then being queen was quite a simple task indeed. And a duty you loved to fulfill again. And again. And again. And again.

You managed your own life as queen well. adapting and figuring it out. Attending parliament by his side.

You were sitting by him when the fateful day came. It was found out he had a claim to France. And the French ambassador mocked him by giving him the gift of a box full of tennis balls. Furious at the insult, Henry declared there and then he would begin an invasion of France.

 He’s going to leave. He’s going to be gone to war. And who knows how long, you thought sadly. You went to your chambers and began to sob. Then the next day, all were discussing logistics. You sat on your own throne, contemplating it all as they talked.

“Yes, my brother- John shall stay. He will lead…” Henry announced. “And by this day, we will gather the army and set sail for France.”

You couldn’t take it. You sat up at once.

“And I will go with you!” you insisted.

The men’s heads turned to you.

“What?!” cried one lord, stepping forward.

The advisors went around you.

“Your Highness…it is not safe!” advised another.

You walked forward, looking down at the table with the map on it. Then you looked at them and addressed them.

“My husband is a warrior. And when we were married, we were made one. This means I am a warrior too, in my own way. And where he goes, there I must go too- his battles are mine as well. Then I say- I will go with him!” you declared, slamming a firm hand on the table.

There was a second of silence. Then your husband took your hands.

“If we can make it safe for her, she will go with me,” he said.

You went off to France with him. You braved the rollicking ships. You both shared a little cot bed as the ship heaved back and forth at night. One night was a storm and the thunder surprised you so much in your bed, you clung to him. He only laughed a little, rubbing your back in comfort.

“It’s only the voice of God, my dove, He is on our side…and protecting you,” he assured, kissing your forehead.

It was not long before it arrived and the army began to set forth. You traveled through forests, riding your horse by your husband’s side through villages and countryside for entire days.  You were a little nervous being the only woman surrounded by men. But they knew how precious a queen you were to their Harry of England, their sovereign. If any of them dared to lay a hand on you, they knew they would face a quick and bloody end on their king’s sword. So, they kept respectful, always greeting you with bows and soft voices.  You would set up camp and then live in a tent rather than a palace.  Some hours you would give your own counsel as you stood by him for planning the army’s next move. When there was an attack, you were put in a safe place with many guards so none would dare hurt the king’s beloved. Other times, you would volunteer with the food or help with medical needs- helping with injuries, cooling warm foreheads with cloths. You saw this fiercer side already of him. He shouted bold, encouraging speeches as they went and attacked towns.

Though you scolded him for the speech he made to the Governor of a city called Harfleur. When they arrived, to your immense shock, Henry coldly threatened his army would pillage the town, set their infants on spikes, and ravish the village women. That was enough to persuade the governor to open the gates and peacefully let them go through without one shred of violence. But his words still rang and made you see red with anger.

You met him in your tent later, and he jumped at your frown. You crossed your arms.

“Henry- you dare to have your men do these unspeakable things to women! You know better! Have you considered I am a woman as well?! And that is our worst fear!”

“I only wished to scare him. I knew it would move him, my dear. And it does happen during wars…”

“You will not let that happen! You will not let the soldiers force themselves on civilian women-or I shall never speak to you, and you won’t be allowed in my chambers either! I’ll sleep in another tent and not allow you to lay a hand on me!” You chided.

It was a threat which, like his to the governor, worked well. He never made a spoke like that again. And you forgave him.

The many ups and downs.  The army was too depleted to move onto Paris so all of you went to Calais. You stopped and fled further realizing the French army was chasing everyone down. You arrived at the small town of Agincourt. The French army had now surrounded you. The Dauphin arrived one cold night. And it was decided-there would be a formal battle tomorrow.

Now here it was- a decisive battle. Only a small handful of soldiers could get a full night’s sleep and Henry himself stayed awake to talk to them. But in your tent, you tossed and turned in your makeshift bed under many blankets. You awoke and then fell again. Your worries had haunted you.

They were going to fight the Dauphin’s army. And the Dauphin’s men outnumbered Henry’s. Five French soldiers for every English.

You awoke shivering and dressed. You gathered your cloak for it was a cold day. Opening the flap of one tent, you saw him. Henry. A small distance away, kneeling in the grass. It was so early that the sky was still grey, the sun barely peeking. You could hear his prayer.

“Lord…strengthen my soldier’s hearts…I’ve made my repentance to Richard and his grave…. please strengthen them…and me…”

Five to one, your mind kept repeating to yourself. Five to one. Five to one.

You wondered at the white horse he brought with him. It was with the others chewing on grass in ignorance of what was about to happen. Why would your husband need it? It would be as if he was a target for their practice! A surefire way to signal this was the man to kill.

How fragile he seemed as he kept praying. He was human. Your husband’s mortality dawned on you. His racing heart could stop. His warm skin grow cold. And his shallow breaths of his anxious prayer would end and there would be none anymore. He dressed in a red doublet- red as the blood threatening to spill from him.

You approached him, noticing him making the sign of the cross to end the prayer. He turned his head to see you.

“How are you?” you asked.

“Only as well as I can be…” he asked.

He easily got up from the grass. Then he went over to a of his lords and guards already armored. He whispered something to them. Nodding, they turned back to camp. He then returned, his gloved hands taking yours.

“I’d…I’d like to spend some time with you…. before…before it starts,” he said.

“Of course, dear husband,” you answered with a smile.

Both of you walked into the woods. It was peaceful- you heard the leaves beneath your shoes and the birdsong. The rustling of trees and the mist as gentle as his kisses at your wedding.  Disguised in your cloaks, you could have been any ordinary pair of lovers wandering in the forest. Not a king and queen of a whole nation.

“Y/N…do you see that? In the valley?” he asked, pointing at a hand.

It was a barn and An old house. The house was abandoned and burned to where the walls were only halfway stood beside it. The barn was intact. He led you inside- the wood creaking and the wind whistling through it. There wasn’t one living life around. No horses. No pigs. Not even an ant.

“We’re a distance off…are we still safe?” you asked.

“It’s alright- you know the path- find the oak tree with mushrooms and keep walking north…Y/N, I asked the guards to leave us alone for a little. I wanted to…to be with you.”

There were no animals around, much less people.  Only you two. Even the sky itself seemed unreal. It was nothing but the grey light of dawn over a cloudy sky. So early, it felt cold. And it was misty and grey.

It was dark and musty in the barn. You saw a wooden bench and stables and troughs. But it was mostly hay- so much hay that there were still tall stalks around the barn.

He then turned to you and kissed you. He took you in his arms. He touched your face, and you realized a tear was rolling down your cheek.

“Y/N…I want this…if this is our last moment together…I….” he began.

He held you closer.

“Yes, Henry….”

He took a deep breath. Then kissed you again, only leaving a trail down your neck. Your heart picked up and you warmed up quickly. He then returned, cupping your face again and looking directly into your eyes, so close. So, there was only him.

“The camp is far off. They won’t disturb us. They won’t hear us. Y/N I… I…I love you….”

“I love you too,” you replied. You kissed him again. You shivered from feeling the cold. And the growing desperation on his face.

“I know this is not the most romantic place. This is not the most beautiful speech I can think of. But…I say it again because it is simple. It is true- I love you, Y/N. And should I die, I want you to know that…”

He paused. Then blinking back a couple tears, he continued.

“If…If this is the day, I’m killed…it is a prayer for you that will be my last word…I’m glad I met you. I’m glad I married you. I have so much shame, so much regret…but you- you were the best choice I made as king. To choose to marry you, love you…”

You cupped him and kissed him again. You felt him press against you. His hands went from your back to your sides. His gloves went up and began to bunch your skirt. Already, you felt yourself grow wet for him. Feeling the bit of cold air on your skin.

“The guards are away…the army is away…they’re far…my wife…please…. here…. love me one last time, lie with me here-so I can feel you-know it is like inside you, to feel your pleasure one more time…”

You grabbed onto him. Feeling his skin, his breathing in his body-his life. His fire.

“Yes…take me. Henry- use me now. I know you feel so much. Take it out. Take out everything on me…just love me…make love to me, husband. Strongly. Strongly as you feel,” you pleaded.

He gave a small smile, giving a last kiss with tongue. Tasting him. He pressed you close.

“You will?” he asked.

“I will,” you answered.

 Then he pushed you roughly and you and you landed with a small laugh against a haystack. One so high it was taller than yourself.   He then backed you to the haystalk in a second. His kisses on your neck had added teeth. He was leaving marks against the skin of your exposed neck.

“Do you like this, little wife?” he asked.

“I do!”

He chuckled lightly.

“Gods, you torment me. Each time you are there in my tent, every meeting you look at me and smile, I imagine you without your gown on. If could, I’d have you over that very table the second they left every meeting…”

Then, his hand turned to a grip. He grabbed onto you. You began to grind naturally against him. He gasped at the feeling but kept talking.

“Perhaps I could grab you and have you on the grass. And have every soldier who leered at you to watch. To have them watch as I take you like a beast. So, they know none of them can make you cum like I can.  Until your name is all you can say on your lips. So, they all know you are mine.”

He found the blouse of your dress. Desperately, he pulled down the overdress’s shoulders. With one tug, he undid the strap of the shift beneath and pulled it down. Your breasts exposed. He cupped and kissed it. He kept a hand, pinching your nipple as he went to your ear. Then he began to make more biting kisses on your neck You embraced him- touching what you could, kissing what you could.

“Henry…I love you, I love you…” you repeated.

“I love you, and be ready, little wife. You’ve wanted fire-now you have it.”

He lowered his mouth to kiss your breasts. Then he used teeth and tongue. He bit your breasts, licked your nipples, and then used his teeth. You began to moan. It was so loud, that you were grateful not even animals could hear you now.

Then he lightly tossed you around. Then he turned you around, pushing you so that you leaned over a wooden bench that was kept there. Your hands braced onto the wood. He then lifted your skirt up to your hips, your bum exposed to him. He gave you a small smack on your behind. You let out a cry.

“I remember your chiding at Harfleur. That’s what you get, little wife, when you disobey your king. You get punishment.”

He began to undo his pants with a quick click of his belt. He began to thrust into you there- hitting this new angle. It was so obscene; you couldn’t help but give into it. Your own filthy moans and his grunts right behind you.

“There-nrgh-yes-I-I-I-take you, like-like a whore-“

You were moving along, feeling your own body shake with each fast, deep thrust. You let out shouts as he got over. The spinning feeling, coiling in your belly, rising from the delicious degradation.

“Oh…oh gods-Henry-I’m-I’m going to-to cum, I’mgoingtocumI’m-“

Then he stopped. You heard his voice behind you.

“Not yet…. you won’t release yet. I’m not done,” he announced.

He turned you around. His large hands almost ripped off your cloak, and then your dress so it pulled down. If he could rip your dress to shreds, he would. But he only roughly put it all aside. You were fully naked, and he was still clothed. He smiled and licked his lips, his curls freed from his head.

“This- seeing this again- I would fight a hundred battles to see your bare breasts and feel your sweet warmth around my cock again.”

He picked you up. You held onto him. With one hand, he pulled down his pants as you held tighter. Released, his leaking tip is already teasing your entrance. Then he backed you up against the hay. He hooked your leg up to be around him. The hay was so high and sturdy that it held you up.

“My queen among people, but my whore in this barn.”

You gasped a little as he entered you. He was fast, desperate. His thrusts wild. He even freed one hand and slapped your breasts, and you let out a cry.

“How can I not touch these breasts? You make me too hard to even think in this army. Riding my horse when I want to use you like a mare beneath me.”

“Hen-Henry-I-I-“ the words left you.

Your breasts began to bounce with his movement obscenely. He grunted more like an animal. You wrapped your arms around his still-clothed shoulders, trying to keep up.

“I love-love-nrgh-you so much-gods-yes, I love you-nrgh-you’re all I could think about-yes-do you understand-ah!- how hard -yes- it is to speak diplomacy-nrgh- with the French when your cock is raging hard seeing your wife?”

He thrust into you again and your own voice was getting a little higher. Hard, rough, desperate.  The spinning, the rising was happening. You held onto him. Then one glove began to reach down and circle your clitoris, you gasped- letting it out. The hard leather on your wet folds, on your bud was going to break you. You heard his words. You bit on, to fight the rise, to not release yet. Hearing each thing he said.

“If I live- I Want you in my tent. On my bed, over the blankets. I want you naked -and I want your legs spread wide for me-so I can ravish you like this again when it’s done. Do that-do that for your king,”

“Yes, yes-I will!”

“I-I-am-nrgh-your king, am I?” he asked as he thrust.

“Y-yes! Yes, you are!”

“Who is your king?”

“Henry! Henry’s my king!”

He then continued at another violent, rougher pace. You wondered how much of this you could even take.

“I want to take you-nrgh- scream-nrgh-so all of France know who belongs to you-you-yes-NRGH- are mine-as-as as France as mine.”

He began to thrust harder. You gasped, as he kept at it.

“Oh-Oh my god-oh god- it’s-it’s happening-Henry I’m-I’m I’mI’mI’m-“

“Yes-Yes-you’re there, little whore-cum-cum for your king-cum for your king-cum for your king!”

Finally, you did too with a last scream. It echoed across to where the sound pattered through the woods. With a breathy, struggled shout he released as well. He kept thrusting, but slower. His hot speed shot forth and went inside you. Both of you panting wildly- you could see your chests heaving. He then held you, shaking a little as he caught his breath.

“Y/N….darling…thank you…I love you…so much…”

He kissed the side of your head as you nestled together. He kissed your cheek and his grip softened.

“Are you hurt?”

“No…I’m not…I have never felt better…” you said.

He helped you back up. Though you felt a little dizzy from the intensity. You could feel his seed inside you-dripping a little down your thighs. You wanted it to stay. Perhaps you would have a child from this and you would have to one day tell them they were conceived on the morn of a battle. Your legs shook. He picked up your discarded clothes and quickly helped you dress back into them. You combed you both wiped the hay off of both of you.

“That was…that was incredible…” you sighed as he clasped the cloak around you.

“And I must agree with you…” he replied.

You walked out soon. Still holding hands. He blushed bright red and there was a prance to his step. Confidence. Even if he was defeated, he would not go down easily. Not without a fight. The sun was now rising higher. The time was approaching. You watched as he was fitted back to his armor by his servants as you stood and watched. Exchanging small looks between you. But before he faced his men, he went back and gave you a passionate kiss. The deepest, and most loving kiss you ever felt him give you.

“Should anything happen to me- the Dauphin out of mercy he shall make sure you are safely brought home to England as an act of diplomacy. I made him promise. And the remaining soldiers will guard you, as well as my uncle.”

“But if…nothing happens to you…” you asked hopefully.

“Then…you remember your promise…” he said with a grin.

“I will see you in our tent…”

He smiled, then he went down and kissed your hand. Tears in his eyes.

“I never knew one soul like yours. Your courage, your kind heart, your wisdom…the greatest of all queens in all nations, and if I had my choice of every woman, it would still be you…”

You embraced him a last time.

“I love you, Y/N. And you will always be loved by me. Thank you…thank you for everything…”

“I love you too, Henry…”

Sharing a brief last kiss on your forehead, he went on his white horse. You felt tears streaming down your face. Then off he went with his men to battle. You never felt prouder of him. Though you felt yourself crying, you were smiling as well. Proud of your king. Your lover. Your husband.

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[defaulttwig]

Allegiance to a Stranger

Prince Hal x fem!reader (18+)

Summary: Looking for work in a dingy pub/inn, you catch the eye of a rather handsome stranger. He offers you money, in return you simply need to talk to him. Easier than your other services, right? Plus, you got free drinks. Absolutely nothing could escalate from there.

Warnings: smut

WC: 4.9k

A/N: oldie uploaded from AO3 and a prequel to Long Live That C*ck but can be standalone

The moment you entered the inn's pub, you booked it to a corner of the room, finding a table along the wall. Petra would kill you if she found you came back here. The patrons here served danger on the second hour of drinking, but the coin balanced out the bad. Well, you thought that. Petra had you swear you'd avoid this place like the plague. Fuck the coin, but you needed the coin fuck to make a living.

What better way than to barter yourself for the drunkards that frequented the place?

Seated at a table by the wall, you could better scout out potential buyers from there. Every able body set before you like they were the merchandise and not you. You were on the lookout for those who seemed to have the fattest pockets.

This lot proved tougher to pick out than the last time you were here. The pub lacked breathing room, packed full of men and women drinking away their sorrows. None looked willing for a fuck and those that did either already had a gal on their lap or looked piss poor. You huffed and did another once over for the umpteenth time around the room.

Sitting around on your ass and wasting precious hours that could be used to make money pissed you off. If there was just anyone that-oh? Oh. You did a double-take. Not too far from you, a lanky gentleman sat hunched over a table, nursing a tankard. That didn't necessarily catch your eye but the fact he made not-so-subtle glances your way.

A brief assessment from your spot told you he must have good coin on him. Or, at least enough for your services rather than be wasted on the piss poor ale here. And judging by the peeks behind his dark locks, you were sure he wouldn't mind a companion tonight.

You gathered yourself and made your way over. He didn't seem perturbed as you sat at his table. You made sure to puff your chest a bit, accentuate your selling point, and offered him a smile.

"Couldn't help but notice you're all alone," you said.

He lifted his gaze at you, but his face had been partly hidden by hunched shoulders and his disheveled hair. You leaned forward and tapped your finger on the table.

"Would you like someone to share a drink with?"

"I'm fine."

You blinked, momentarily lost. His voice, as much as he sounded bored, excited you. His tone held such a cadence and manner of power, you couldn't help but be drawn in by the way he spoke. Surely, you wouldn't have expected someone as lanky and seemingly lone-wolfish as himself to carry such an intoxicating sound.

You smiled to yourself, certain you wanted his coin. "Didn't seem that way when you kept looking at me over there. Or, are you looking for other services? Services I may be able to provide."

He fully turned to give you his full attention. Every fiber of your being had not been prepared to be faced with an angel, not here. His deep eyes bore into your own, carrying so much emotion that you couldn't name. Even in the poor lighting here, you could make out his sharp features, sure he had to have been a god of some sort. Count your lucky stars, you really wanted his coin.

"If I wanted your services, I'd have asked."

You didn't let that deter you. "All right." Folding your arms under your chest, you raised it a bit shamelessly. A man this beautiful had to have some coin in his belt, a hefty amount. "I'll go bother another patron. Someone will enjoy my company."

You noticed him glance at your chest and knew you already won this quiet battle. Baiting him, you stood from your seat to make a point. He had not allowed you to move two steps from him before his hand grasped your wrist.

You looked down at him, batting your eyelashes innocently. As if you didn't know what you were doing.

You fought down a growing smile, instead pouting slightly. "Problem?"

"Fine." He sighed. The way he made it sound, you'd think you pestered him over and over and not simply made an offer that he ultimately could have said no to. "Drink with me. It's dreadfully dull here."

You reclaimed your seat, painting the puffed chest look. "Dull? I'm afraid we're not in the same pub if you don't see the man suckling a woman's tit on the other side of the room."

You both looked over at the same time and saw exactly what you described. Another woman trying to earn coin the same as you, though she seemed farther ahead of you in securing that coin. You had yet to know if he'd buy your services.

He looked back at you as your smile grew. "Or, are you not used to this sort of crowd?"

"I'd wager this isn't your ideal place either."

You blinked. "What do you mean by that?"

"Your posture is awfully rigid for someone who acts like she knows what she's doing." He gestured his tankard in your direction. "And I've seen real whores. You're more of a whelp, someone who doesn't belong here."

You hadn't expected this turn in the conversation. Finding your train of thought, you forced a light laugh. "Perhaps, your vision is fuzzy. This isn't my first time."

"No, I don't believe so. But I do believe I could count on one hand how many times you've done this."

"Wrong." He was right, you just didn't want to agree and have him turn his money elsewhere. "If you believe that, why not find a woman who suits your interests?"

"Because I'm not looking for a fuck. I'm looking for a drink." He tried to take a drink but realized his tankard was empty. Waving down a barmaid, he brought his attention back to you. "And I'm certain you'd appreciate the night off, wouldn't you?"

Your smile had slipped off by now. Looking him in the eye, this not-so-angel of a man, you fought the urge to frown. "I still need to make a living. If you truly won't provide it, I'll look elsewhere."

"Consider this your service," he said as he ordered drinks for both of you to the barmaid before she hurried off to fetch some. "Drink with me, hold a conversation if you can, and I'll pay for both the drinks and your time."

You certainly frowned now, unsure of this trickery. "I don't believe you."

The two drinks had been set between you. This handsome stranger kept his eyes on you as his hand disappeared under the table. Your eyes widened the moment he set his hand down on the table before you, pulling back to reveal three gold coins.

"You have my word." He took hold of his tankard, raising it with a nod. "Drink. We have all night to talk."

You took hold of your own tankard, eyeing it cautiously before putting it to your mouth. He offered a half-smile, taking a drink of his own. If that was how you would earn your coin, you wouldn't mind. Free drink and free coin, that's the life anybody could ask for.

For three hours, the two of you drank and talked. Each drink served, he'd hand you more coins. You wanted to keep the drinks coming at that point, but held back. You wanted to remember this time with the stranger beside you.

The first hour consisted of him asking you questions. Nothing deep. Questions of 'have you traveled far out before,' 'pet peeves,' 'do you think you can hold as many drinks as you are?' Questions like that. That last question made you slow down your drinking, a reminder that you had your limits as any other person, but it also slowed down the coin.

By the second hour, you had gotten his name. Hal. It rolled off the tongue easily. And you were certain that even if you did get too drunk to remember tonight, you'd remember his name. Not that you thought you could forget this man.

In the third hour, you had both nearly completely stopped drinking. Poking fun quietly at other patrons, you couldn't remember smiling this much. Certainly not with a stranger.

Hal raised his hand and called someone over. You expected another round of drinks but he asked for two bottles. He caught your look just as he asked for them to be brought up to his room.

"I've had my fun, but I'd like to escape the commotion." Before you could ask if he was looking for your other service, he continued. "You're more than welcome to continue this conversation up there unless you've grown tired. I'll still pay, of course."

Just talking. You'd never have expected this from a man. And you certainly didn't have it in you to venture out this late full of ale. You took him up on his offer, following him out the main floor and up the stairs to his room.

He let you in before he followed, shutting the door behind him. A moment before he could walk away from the door, he heard a knock and opened it, receiving the two bottles he asked for. He closed the door with the side of his shoe, looking at you.

From the intense gaze, you almost expected an order to strip, but he walked past you to set the bottles on a table. He glanced over his shoulder. "You're free to sit wherever you please. No need to simply stand there."

You nodded but he'd already looked away. Your gaze fell on the bed and though a small part of your mind warned you to not sit there, you did anyway. Hal stared at the bottles as you looked him over.

Three hours were not long enough to know a person, especially when most of the conversation had been about you. Yet, you felt that all had been said downstairs. Maybe it was the ale, but you were warm with ideas about Hal.

He grabbed a bottle, mind set on something, and turned to find you on the bed. He looked you over before he made his way to you. Your heart spiked with emotion, stuttering as he moved behind you to all but flop onto the bed. You turned in your spot to look at him. Eyes on you, he held himself up by an elbow and took a large drink.

"Truthfully, I have nothing more I want to say to you," he said. "I've run out of things to talk about hours ago."

"Oh." You weren't sure to feel about that. "Then, why invite me up here?"

"Because I couldn't fathom letting a beautiful girl go." His eyes bored into yours, his mouth pulled into a frown. "Not in a place like this. Not when you still need to earn a living."

"So, what are you saying? You want to buy my body for the night?"

He lowered his gaze to the bottle. "I wouldn't want to disrespect you. I want to take your feelings into account. I will pay you for being in here, whether you enact your services or not. The choice is yours."

You scrunched your nose. "I'm not sure if you're really giving me a choice."

"Simply sit here and talk with me about whatever is on your mind." He held the bottle at his side, flopping back onto the bed. "Or, you can do what you first intended to do with me."

You gathered your dress in your hands, kicking off your flats. Pulling yourself further onto the bed with your knees, you looked down at him. "Which of us is really selling their body? You or me?"

He lazily turned his head to look at you. "If there is an answer, I am not the one who knows it."

You swallowed air. His gaze fell to your chest once more and you couldn't help but feel shy. Seeing how he looked at you, with such lust, you almost wondered if the ale messed with his head. He hadn't acted this way up until now.

You won't deny that when you first saw his face, you not only wanted his coin for capital reasons. You had truly been curious what a man of his nature would be like with a partner. Your hand reached out to him, finding the collar of his tunic and pulling it aside, revealing a bird charm on a chain necklace. You wanted to know if he was anything in bed like he had been in the pub, someone that you'd find yourself wanting to be with for hours on end.

"You're drunk," you reasoned.

"If I finish this bottle, then I can confidently say I am drunk. For the moment, my head is clear." He sat up, grabbing your hand before you could pull it away from his necklace. "Are your thoughts clear?"

Your heart stuttered. The warmth from his hand enveloped your small one. His face not so far from yours, you wondered what his lips would taste like. Ale, most definitely.

"My thoughts are my own."

He pressed your hand to his exposed collarbone, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Tell me you don't want this."

Your eyes flicked from his own to his necklace, to his lips, back to his eyes. You weren't sure you could say that. The thoughts in your head were your own, but they vanished the moment he declared this. You licked your lips, trying hard to utter any thought that weighed against this moment.

So far, you only found you wanted this as much as he seemed to. "Hal."

"Yes?"

You looked at the bottle. "I do want this. If you want this too, don't finish that bottle. I'd like you to be of the present mind."

If he could've set the bottle aside any faster than he had, you were certain he would. He adjusted himself to sit up fully, his hands holding him up on the bed while you let yours linger on his tunic.

"I wouldn't want you to forget me." You smiled softly.

"I don't believe any amount of ale could make me forget you." He exhaled slowly. "Whatever happens tonight, I ask that you remember me too."

You'd sunk back into your comfort zone, a teasing smile on your lips. "Show me what you got, and I'll carry your name to my grave."

He accepted the challenge. No more words needed to be spoken on the matter, both of you dove in for a kiss. You were right, he tasted like ale. Parting your lips and wrapping your arms around him, you were sure you tasted no different.

Both of you scrambled to take each other's clothes off. The moment his tunic went over his head, your hands traversed his torso, memorizing the rough edges. Your nails dragged along his skin, featherlight and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

It took a moment for your dress to come off, but it was just a heap on the ground by the time he grabbed you and laid you beneath him. Both nude, your eyes fell to his necklace, the bird in direct line of sight. You tapped your finger against it, letting it swing back and forth for a moment. Hal grabbed it, simply looking at your face.

You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but you had no thoughts. Act first, think later was your current mindset. Your hands found purchase in his hair, fingers buried in the dark locks as you pulled him down to kiss you.

He tasted like heaven. His lips were slightly chapped but the same could be said for you. He swiped his tongue over your lips, drinking in your moans. His hands found their way to your breasts, massaging the mounds with slow, rough movements. You sighed into his mouth, enjoying his hands.

He broke the kiss, moving his mouth along your neck. He bit and sucked wherever his mouth landed, biting particularly hard below your collarbone, along the soft mound of your breast. You knew that mark would be visible in the morning, with the sort of dress you wore, but it only excited you more. People would see the markings of a beast, strangers in your path unaware what sort of angelic beauty put them on you.

You pushed on his shoulder, stopping his barrage of attacks with his mouth and brought his face back to yours. His kisses were finer than any ale from the richest of provinces. You could get drunk on his kisses, forget the number of tankards you went through earlier.

Hal massaged your legs. His hands slid up along the inside of your thighs. Your breath halted as he neared your cunt, only to breathe out in a huff as they fanned out to your hips. You hadn’t realized how sensitive your hips were. Not until he gingerly trailed the pads of his fingers against the area. Your hips jerked, a sharp exhale came from you as he let his eyes wander over your body.

He repeated the motion. Rinse and repeat. Nearing your cunt, only to touch your hips or squeeze your thighs. Each time he’d venture closer to your cunt, making your insides flutter. He brought his mouth down to one breast, licking the nipple. You were caught off guard by the action, assuming he’d continue to tease your lower body.

The attention to your breasts had been more than welcome though. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders, head against the pillows and basking in his hot saliva coating your nipple. He flicked his tongue right before his teeth grazed it. When he moved to give the same attention to your other nipple, he used that distraction to use his hands.

Your breath caught in your throat, hips jerking once more. He slipped his thumb through your folds, swiping it through your wetness. Right before he pressed it against your clit and smothered the wetness on it.

You gasped and raised your hips. His thumb circled your clit, switching up the pattern every so often. You were so wet, a knot building from the attention he gave you. He didn’t stop, not when you tapped his arm and tried to convey you neared your high. Right on the edge, you threw your head back, ready to explode.

Hal pulled his hand away.

You let out a pained moan. The knot faded in a burning sensation to almost nothing as your gaze snapped to him. You furrowed your brows, reaching your hand to your cunt, about to finish yourself off.

“Why did you stop?”

He caught your hand. Your eyes widened as his narrowed. “Not yet. Not until I say so.”

You swallowed your spit, trying to find your words. “What do you have planned?”

“I’m going to make sure you remember this.”

He let go of your hand, which you let fall to your side. In favor of seeing where this was headed, you watched intently as he grabbed the back of your knees and parted your legs wider. He kept his gaze locked on your face as he neared your cunt. You shared a moment of silence, where nothing seemed to happen. The tension hadn’t dissipated and you nearly squirmed, gasping as he parted the folds of your cunt with his thumbs and blew against your clit.

It chilled against your went cunt. A stark contrast to the heat you felt that sent your cunt aflutter. He briefly glanced at your cunt, enveloping the little clit in his mouth. You let out a quipped moan, twitching under him. He worked wonders on you, that tongue of his rolling your eyes into your head. You grabbed his hair for stability, encouraging him with soft praises.

“Oh, god,” You said. “Lord, what you’re doing to me.”

You felt the knot once more. Repeating phrases such as that, swearing against the king, the lord, you swore to everyone but Hal’s name. His name was too holy to soil. You’d curse anything before you cursed him. He stopped, again, before you could reach that climax.

He ignored your grunting, lazily swirling his middle finger at the entrance of your cunt. “God isn’t here fucking you. Say my name.”

God, he looked like a saint. His beautiful face and mouth were completely opposite of the words coming from him.

“Hal,” you hissed. So, much for holy, you thought while you tried to buck against his mouth and finger. “Don’t stop.”

“I want you to scream my name when you cum.”

“Sure. Whatever you want, but don’t stop. I’m right there.”

That satisfied him. He returned to sucking your clit, his finger pushing past the entrance. You moaned his name, losing yourself as he added a second finger. He curled them, made scissors inside you, did whatever made you twitch and buck. Combined with his mouth working overtime, your hips shook violently, torn between the need to be still and the friction you got.

Everything exploded in a hot white, your back arching off the bed. True to your word, you screamed his name. Apart from the crack in your voice, the volume suited him.

He pulled his fingers out of your cunt, replacing it with his mouth. Your legs threatened to close around his head, too overcome with stimulation. His hands kept your thighs apart, his wet fingers slick against one thigh. You dug your head into the pillows, crying out and weakly bucking as he lapped up your juices.

If he did that forever, as spent as you were, you would be in heaven. You were certain you were going to hell, but his mouth would redeem you. By the stars, you’d pledge to him if he kept you on a blissful high like this.

The moment he stopped lapping up your juices, he brought his face back to yours. He joined your mouths, forcing you to taste yourself on him. You shivered, the strange taste mixing with saliva. He cupped your face with both hands and you felt those wet fingers smear your juice on your cheek.

Breaking the kiss, you weakly reached between the two of you. He wrapped his arms around you and flipped you so you were on top. You forced yourself down the bed a ways, lining your mouth up with his cock.

The tip leaked pre-cum. You took hold of his cock, holding it steady. He twitched and shivered the moment you licked his tip, gathering the pre-cum on your tongue. You were about to go further, but he grabbed your hand.

“Stop.”

You stayed in your position, breaths fanned over the tip of his cock. Tilting your head slightly, you frowned. “What’s wrong?”

He twitched in your hand. “Don’t. I don’t want you to do that.”

“I don’t understand.” You rubbed your thumb over his tip, gauging his reaction. By the way he jolted, you knew he liked it. “Don’t you want this?”

“Not tonight.” Oh, so he planned for more sessions. “I said I’d make this night memorable for you.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

He pushed himself onto his elbows, staring into your eyes. “Get on your hands and knees.”

You understood what he meant, and turned around. He pulled himself to stand on his knees, all the while you backed your ass into him. You looked over your shoulder.

“What next, your majesty,” you teased.

He squeezed your hips, pulling you closer. “Don’t call me that.”

“What do you want to be called?”

He lined his cock at your entrance, teasing in the tip. “Just say my name.”

He held your hips steady, thrusting himself completely in. You moaned, head dropping down. He remained still, allowing you ample time to adjust to his size. Tears pricked your eyes by the time you picked your head back up, looking over your shoulder at him.

“Hal,” your voice cracked slightly. You cleared your throat. He looked at you, scared he’d hurt you. “Don’t hold back.”

His face blanked. You feared you broke him. By how he acted, you figured he had some tricks up his sleeve, but he remained quiet.

“Hal?”

“I heard you.” He smoothed his hand along your back. Your eyes widened as he gripped your neck and pulled you until your back was flush against his chest. His lips brushed against your ear. “Are you certain?”

“I am.” You touched his hand on your neck. “Do whatever you want to me.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I trust you.”

He pulled out until his tip remained, then slammed his hips back into yours. “I’m going to make you cum. A thousand times over, whore.”

Your eyes widened. You hadn’t expected the name-calling, but it made your cunt flutter with want. Hal noticed this as well.

He bucked into you again, setting a pace for himself. “I’m going to make you forget every man. Only my name will make you quiver.”

“Yes.”

He squeezed your throat. “The moment you stepped into the pub, I had my eyes on your tits.” He breathed hotly into your face, his gaze set on the way your breasts bounced from his rigorous fucking. “Thought about my hands on them. Thought about fucking you with your tits pressed agaisnt the table.”

“Hal.”

“I’m going to make you cum until the sun comes up.” He bucked up into you. “Touch yourself.”

“Huh?” You exposed your neck for him, letting him bite your neck.

“Touch yourself. Play with your pretty clit.” His hand left your neck to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging hard. “Pleasure yourself.”

You did as told. Lowering your hand to your clit, you rubbed two fingers in a circle over it. Collecting the juices that spilled out of your cunt and coated his cock, you used it on yourself. It made it all the more slippery, your rubbing faster and sloppier.

He let go of your hair and you all but fell forward, catching yourself with your free arm. You laid your head on it, rubbing yourself in tune to the way his hips sporadically slammed against yours. He continued to buck into you, combined with your rubbing you knew your next wave was approaching.

And when it happened, you were a moaning mess, your fingers halting in their movement as you became nearly limp, rocking with Hal’s thrusts. He brought his hand between your legs, continuing to overstimulate you. You writhed under his touch, moaning his name in what sounded like whimpers.

He took your fingers, sticking them along with his own in his mouth. You shivered at how his tongue lapped at your fingers. It was short lived, as he brought them to your mouth straight after. You sucked on his fingers, your hand fallen out of your mouth to lay listlessly by your head.

Your walls fluttered around his cock. Moans muffled around his fingers, you let him pull them out of your mouth to go back to rubbing your clit. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“God, Hal, if you keep this up,” your hazy mind said, “I’ll have to pledge my allegiance to you.”

Hal, for what it was worth, pressed himself to you. “What was that? Speak up.”

You moaned. “I’m pledging allegiance to you, Hal.”

“What?” His thrusts slowed so he could gather his thoughts. “You’re supposed to pledge allegiance to your king and country.”

“Yeah?” You arched your back into the bed. “Fuck the king and country. You’re the one I’m in bed with.”

“So, what are you saying?” He continued to thrust. “You’d give up any other man for me?”

“For this?” You quivered. “Yes.”

His thrusts picked back up. Pace fast and rough, he gave everything his all. “Then, cum for me. Cum for your king.”

Your legs shook violently from how rough he handled you. The knot returned full force. If you hadn’t already had your face planted into the bed, you’d have collapsed from how hard you came. Hal’s name chanted from your lips, you weakly bucked back into him until he climaxed right after.

He continued to fuck you through both of your orgasms. His seed spilled into you, hot and full. Your walls fluttered erratically around him, taking him all in.

The moment he had finished, he pulled out of you and collapsed beside you at the foot of the bed. You turned your head, basking in his handsome features. His face and body glistened with sweat. No doubt you were the same.

Hal weakly brushed some hair out of your face. “Did you mean it?”

You hummed, mind partly focused on the leakiness from your cunt. “Mean what?”

“You pledged your fealty to me. Do you want to be mine?”

“Your personal whore?” You scoffed. “If that’s how you always fuck, yes.”

“No other man will bed you?”

“Not if you pay me. I still need to make a living.”

Hal nodded. “It��s settled then.”

He wrapped his arm around you. You pressed a brief kiss to his jawline, snuggling closer to him.

“Did you mean what you said about making me cum until sunrise?”

“Yes.” His eyes closed. “Enjoy your break. We’re starting again soon.”

You smiled and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. “I could get used to this.”

#prince hal x reader #hal x reader #timothee chalamet x reader

[fandom-go-round]

DC and Marvel Masterlist

DC Comics:

Dick Grayson/Nightwing:

Motorcycles: Dick Grayson x Reader [smut]

Refuse: Alpah!Nightwing x Omega!Reader [smut] {dark}

  Jason Todd/ Red Hood:

Home: Jason Todd x Reader (fluff)

  Constantine:

Present: John Constantine x Reader (fluff)

Incubus!Constantine x Reader HCs [smut]

  Barry Allen/The Flash:

Date Night: Barry Allen x Reader (fluff)

Taking Care of a Child HC: Barry Allen (fluff)

  Bruce Wayne/Batman:

Dealing with Kids HCs (Batman) (fluff)

Batfam Adopting Mermaid HCs

Old Man Bruce Fighting Crime HCs

Non-Sexual Pet Play HCs

Responding to Furry Joke HCs  

Flower Prompt: Wild Rose

Love Letter Event: Battinson

  Slade Wilson/Deathstroke:

Deathstroke x Reader [smut]

  Arthur Curry/Aquaman:

Hugging and Kissing HCs: Aquaman (fluff)

  Diana Prince/Wonder Woman:

Hugging and Kissing HCs: Wonder Woman (fluff)

Yandere HCs {yandere, dark}

  Hal Jordan/Green Lantern:

Omega!Hal HCs

  Clark Kent/Superman:

Shrunken! Reader x Superman HCs

  Harvey Dent/Two-Face:

Reader x Harvey Cuddling HCs (fluff)

  Star Sapphire:

Reader x Star Sapphire Dating HCs (fluff)

  Raven:

Injustice Dating HCs {dark}

  Enchantress:

Male!Reader x June Switching During Sex [smut]

  Cheetah:

First Date HCs {light dark}

  Blackfire:

Love Letter Event

  Collections/Other:

Coming Out: Kaldur Imagine (fluff)

Incubus!Batboys x Reader HCs (Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke) [smut]

Naga Egg HCs (Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Cyborg, Flash, Green Lantern, Green Arrow, Black Canary) [smut]

General Centaur HCs (Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Cyborg, Flash, Green Lantern, Green Arrow, Black Canary)

Alpha!Riddler x Omega!Reader Heat [smut]

Squirting HCs (Bucky Barnes, Dr. Strange, Loki, Batman) [smut]

Reader Coming Out as Trans to Batboys (Bruce, Dick, Jason, Damian)

Reader Dressing Up in Lovers Costume (Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Arrow)

Blue Lantern!Reader x Green Lanterns (Jessica, John, Guy)

Poly! Poison Ivy x Reader x Harley Quinn Domestic (fluff)

Poly! Raven x Reader x Starfire Domestic (fluff)

Poly! Constantine x Reader x Zatanna HCs

Omega Verse Batfam General HCs

Batfam!Reader x Batfam! Best Friend Getting Pregnant HCs (Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim)

Reader Becoming Doctor Fate HCs (Jason, Tim, Cassandra) [dark]

Monster HCs (Duke, Stephanie)  

  Marvel:

Bruce Banner/The Hulk:

Picture Perfect: Bruce Banner x Reader (fluff)

Domestic HCs (fluff)

  Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow:

Too Late: Natasha Romanoff x Reader {angst}

  Tony Stark/Ironman:

Broken: Tony Stark x Fem!Reader {angst}

  Loki:

Cello Music: Loki x Reader (Dissociation) {angst]

  Colossus:

Take Me to Bed: Reader x Colossus (fluff)

  Thanos:

Horned!Reader x Thanos [implied smut]

  James “Bucky” Barnes/Winter Solider:

Grim Reaper!Reader X Bucky {major character death}

  Doctor Octopus/ Otto Octavius:

Reader x Doc Ock Alleyway Sex [smut]

  Matt Murdock/Daredevil:

Reader x Matt Murdock Underneath You [smut]

  Vertigo:

Flower Prompt: Lilac

  Viper:

Male! Reader x Viper Anal Sex [smut]

  Collections/Other:

Bedtime HCs: Logan x Kurt (fluff)

Enemies to Friends to Lovers HCs: Nightcrawler x Toad (fluff)

Kissing HCs (T'Challa, Erik Killmonger, M'Baku)

Poly Captain America x Reader x Winter Solider Possessive Sex [smut]

Logan Howlett x Reader x Kurt Wagner Stuck in Wall [smut]

Parents Getting a Divorce HCs (Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Dr. Strange) {emotional themes}

Squirting HCs (Bucky Barnes, Dr. Strange, Loki, Batman) [smut]

Shrunken! Reader with X-Men HCs

Kryptonian! Reader x Avenger HCs (Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Thor, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff)

Valentine’s Day HCs (Thor, Loki, Valkyrie) (fluff)

Tony Stark x Bruce Banner Flower Prompt: Daisy

Kryptonian!Reader x Avenger HCs (Daredevil, She-Hulk)

#masterlist #dc masterlist #marvel masterlist

[glxssylaufey]

💌🍄𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐲’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭~🌿🏛

₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝: 06/26/2021

𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝: 10/2/2021

𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: 13

𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 “❤️‍🔥” 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 (𝟏𝟖+)

temporarily inactive.

⊱Tom Hiddleston characters:

ｍｕｌｔｉｐｌｅ ｃｈａｒａｃｔｅｒｓ:

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞: stuck in a love triangle with prince hal and thomas sharpe (drabble)

ｔｏｍ ｈｉｄｄｌｅｓｔｏｎ:

𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞: ❤️‍🔥 jaguar!tom x reader ; after a night of spoiling his girl, tom drives y/n home. during the ride, her arousal gets the best of both of them.

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧: ❤️‍🔥 tom hiddleston x fem!reader ; you and your loving boyfriend enjoy a relaxing night at home with one another. little did you realize, the night was only just beginning.

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞: ❤️‍🔥 stepdad!tom hiddleston x reader; both you and your stepdad awkwardly cross paths at a late night party, sparking a night to remember.

ｌｏｋｉ:

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: loki x reader ; there’s a new guest staying at the Avengers Tower. to make matters worse, you are put in charge to watch over the new member of the compound.

fic teaser ch.1 ch.2

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐲: ❤️‍🔥 president!loki x firstlady!reader ; the night of the the election.

ａｄａｍ:

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫: adam x reader ; it’s your one year anniversary with your boyfriend adam. after a passionate night together, things take a turn. it only took a couple seconds and two fangs to change your life.

ｍａｇｎｕｓ ｍａｒｔｉｎｓｓｏｎ:

𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐫. 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧: (drabble)

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬: ❤️‍🔥 magnus martinsson x fem!reader ; after a long day at the office, you and your boyfriend magnus return home. not wanting to interrupt your relaxation, magnus helps himself to relieve the stresses of the day.

ｊｏｎａｔｈａｎ ｐｉｎｅ:

𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡: jonathan pine x reader ; you are the oldest daughter of richard roper. needing an escape from reality, you sneak out to the beach for a quick joint. what you didn’t expect was for jonathan pine to catch you.

ｄｒ ｒｏｂｅｒｔ ｌａｉｎｇ:

𝐟𝐥𝐲:❤️‍🔥 dr robert laing x reader ; Charlotte Melville and Richard Wilder are visiting.

#aesthetic #marvel #marvel mcu #tom hiddleston #thomas william hiddleston #tom hiddleston edit #loki odinson #loki #crimson peak #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #loki x reader #loki fanfiction #masterlist #fanfiction masterlist #writer #only lovers left alive adam x reader #only lovers left alive #the hollow crown #tom hiddleston masterlist #tom hiddleston fandom #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston x reader smut #jonathan pine #the night manager #jonathan pine x reader

[megthemewlingquim]

54, 91, and 92, for Loki? I love your writing so much, I will accept any character with these prompts.

Disobedience

Summary: Loki becomes very dominant when he sees you dancing.

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Warnings: sexual talk, dom/sub elements

A/N: This is for Kinktober Day 25.

Also, because some people have been asking for prompt 54, I will be doing that prompt on the last Kinktober Day (10/31) for an ask related to Prince Hal. I will not be writing it here, nor on any others before it.

DRABBLE TIME AGAIN FOLKS BECAUSE I CANNOT MANAGE TIME.

There’s a wildness to your movements, an expression of bliss to your face.

Your hair seems wet, it’s so down and loose and free. The lights ignite you, revealing you to everyone and to no one.

It’s always around me, all this noise

But not nearly as loud as a voice saying,

“Let it happen, let it happen...”

Your hips sway, your body seemingly having a mind of its own as the music thumps and vibrates through your chests. Your forehead is beaded with sweat, but it has nothing to do with the music or your dancing - it’s roasting in the club, with all of these other bodies beside you.

Loki steps forward, catching you in his arms. You practically stumble into them.

“Having fun?” he asks, and you’re somehow able to hear him over the song, which now seems to be skipping on the record player. Quickly, you realize it’s intentional, and you shrug your annoyance off.

“Yeah,” you shout. “What about you?”

He rolls his eyes, a smile crossing his face. Then, he sways the both of you, not following the faster rhythm of the song. “My darling, I’m having so much fun watching you dance. I’m serious. You’re a marvel, and you look absolutely divine.”

But then, he leans forward so his lips graze your ear and a lock of your hair. “You better stop dancing like that or else I'm going to come in my pants.”

You snicker. “And what are you gonna do about it if I don’t listen?”

He tsks, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “When we get home, I'm not going to touch you unless you beg.”

“Bet,” you grin. To drive your point home, you grind your ass against his crotch.

And, oh Lord, his hand comes up to your throat from behind.

“What have we discussed about disobedience, hmm?” Loki growls as you look up at the celling, heart pounding. You shut your eyes and let your air go.

You blink, but give no answer, for a number of reasons. One, Loki’s restricting your airflow, Two, the music is still loud, and three, you became a mess as soon as Loki’s hand came up.

"That's right. Disobedience ought to be punished, don't you agree? So, when we get home, begging will only get me to touch you... and, for that little stunt, if I do touch you, you'll be edged, denied. How's that sound, kitten?"

#kinktober #loki smut #loki of asgard #loki (marvel) #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki fanfic #loki #mcu loki #loki odinson #loki x y/n

[abovethesmokestacks]

HBC Drunk Drabbles

Drabbles written for HBC Drunk Drabble nights. Drabbles with * next to it are nsfw and should not be read by anyone under 18.

Soft and Smooth - Sebastian Stan x reader *

T(h)rust - bi!T.J Hammond x fem!reader *

Grace Interrupted - Jack Benjamin x omc

Morning Glory - Hal Carter x reader *

A Home For the Heart - Hal Carter x reader

Our Kind of Love - Bucky Barnes x reader

Two Princes - Hal Carter x Carter Baizen *

Lace and Sugar - Hal Carter x Carter Baizen *

Feels Like Home - Bucky Barnes x reader

Food For Thought - Bucky Barnes x reader

Spilling Sin Like Honey - Hal Carter x reader *

Rain On Me - Clay Appuzzo x reader *

#drunk drabbles

[smolvenger]

Also, I can't say no to blurbs and especially not to something extraordinarily fluffy like "Touch her and you die", tehehe... Perhaps with Henry V? 🤭

Hiiii bestie! I'm going to make the blurbs shorter and simpler if you don't mind!

His Queen (Henry V x fem! Reader blurb)

Your boat docked right on the shores of France. So while your husband, the king, was determined to fight there- you had to see him.

Henry had waited with his whole army on the shore of a cliff. Then he dismounted his horse and ran up. It was a reminder of his youth- the young, firey, springy king. He easily bounded through the little beach and the plank right as you stepped up to get off the boat. Before his army and the guards, he embraced you passionately and you back.

"How are you, my sweet wife?"

"Weary from the journey though it was smooth," you confessed.

"For such a lady as you, even the seas and winds themselves would still and become gentle for you to cross," he said.

He hugged you again, peppering a kiss onto your cheek as you laughed, feeling the tickle of his facial hair and re-acquainting yourself with his lips.

He gestured to one of the lords. The Lord of York brought forth a beautiful white mare and you gasped.

"A gift for you, my lady," he offered.

You thanked him and he helped you to mount her. She accepted you- gentle was her demeanor and what a good companion she would make here in France.

"Why, the seas were quite misty- I should call her Mist, for she reminds me a little of it," you cooed, petting her mane.

"A noble, strong, yet sweet and beautiful thing, much like my dearest queen and lady," Henry said.

"My, what words roll off your tongue now! They shall call you a poet, not a ruler," you teased.

"Then it means I am an artist, and you are the muse then for such words. And if I must continue my pen, then my muse shouldn't be kept too long from me," he bantered back lightly.

He got up on his own horse- a white stallion quoting yours. You felt like a fairy queen, not a mortal one, as she trotted over the grass.

And you were led to ride and sit on your horse before the army. Dressed in their greys and blacks and scraps of leather, their eyes were big.

"This here, is Her Majesty, the Queen of England," announced Henry.

You smiled, though part of you went stiff. A few looks seemed to be borderline leers. How long have these men been deprived of a woman's presence?

Henry noticed, and his voice turned a darker tone, a fiercer one.

"She is both your ruler and a lady, and you must respect her as you do both. She is also my wife, I must remind you..."

His eyes darkened. The army stiffened, turning pale and attentive like naughty schoolboys caught by their teacher.

"You must guard her and listen to and follow her as you do Harry of England. She is England's Woman and it's most precious jewel. And should any miscreant or bully among you dare lay a finger on that precious jewel, I shall condemn you at once to hang. Remember the fate of Bardolph- one of your own who greedily robbed a poor church of its dearest sacraments- and she here is the greatest sacrament of England. And if none of you want to share worse than his fate, then cool your lust elsewhere...or I shall execute you myself." Henry threatened all of them.

The soldiers bowed their heads and complied. You gave him a smile. Though the only woman there, you were unafraid.

You were ready to join your husband and support him without fear.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

#prince hal x reader #tom hiddleston #carrie writes #angst with a happy ending #prince hal #the hollow crown #king henry v #william shakespeare #henry iv part ii #henry iv part 2 #prince hal imagine #prince hal fanfiction #tom hiddleston characters #fanfiction #fic writing #fanfics #birthday blurbs #touch her and you die #prince hal x you #prince hal x fem! reader #prince hal x y/n #prince hal x fem! y/n #henry v #henry v x fem! reader #henry v x reader #henry v x y/n #henry v x you #henry v x fem! y/n

[smolvenger]

Arise Fair Sun (Henry V x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Word Count: 3K

Fandom: The Hollow Crown

Summary: One night, Henry appears under your balcony to confess his feelings to you.

Warnings: None, just a lot of fluff! I guess brief mentions of sex.

A/N: This was inspired by @theartofimagining13's small post that can be found here! A lot of it was taken from the Balcony Scene from Romeo and Juliet (and no tragic ending in my fic, hooray!), bc I'm a basic bitch who genuinely loves that play, do not @ me. Enjoy!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner@littlespaceyelf@superficialdomina @muddyorbsblr

“Y/N, a marriage to the Earl of Warwick shall be a wonderful match and you must consider it!” your father said at dinnertime.

You felt as if the roast chicken you had just eaten was curdling in your stomach. Though it was a warm summer night, you became very cold. You saw stars in the fields of your vision from the shock. The words were thunder to your ears- loud and shocking and bursting from nowhere.

You did meet the Earl of Warwick a few times. He was a handsome man, though he was older. Not elderly, but close to your father’s age to where they were friends. Often, they attended events and court with the king himself there. Just yesterday, he was there with you at a ball, hosted by the king himself. He had long since been widowed. Now it seemed he was open for a replacement.

Though you did dance with the handsome young king, Henry the Fifth. His eyes were piercing but his face had a gentle smile on you. You were sure he was not betrothed to any princess. At least not yet. The times you spoke with him and attended events with him, he did speak to you. And he was so…so…

No, it was impossible.

“Father…am I…am I betrothed to the earl?” you asked, still dazed at it.

To think, you were already set for a marriage without your knowledge! Yes, you knew it would happen eventually. You never thought it would happen now!  Your fingers curled into the table’s wood as if it could support you.

“No, I will tell you, you are not. At least, not yet! He is only interested in courtship first…then we can consider a betrothal,” your father replied. He wiped off the sauce of the meal from his mouth.

Your mother turned to you.

“But the earl seeks you as his lady love. And you shall consider him, shall you?” your mother encouraged.

You blinked rapidly.

“I…I will consider it,” you answered.

“Then, we will invite him to dinner and if this continues further, a marriage for you will finally be settled. Isn’t’ that wonderful?” your father asked with a smile.

You nodded politely, despite the racing of your heart. You reached for your goblet of wine and took a sip, resisting the urge to gulp it down to calm your shock.

Not that he wouldn’t be a good husband to any wife. But…in the depth of your heart, you wanted to marry out of love. Like with….with….

No, that was impossible. Don’t dwell on him, you urged yourself.

This was it. Done and done-at this rate, you would have to start signing your letters as Lady Warwick.

That night, you were troubled. You found it hard to relax to sleep. The stifling heat on the blankets on a summer evening didn’t help. You knew marriage was never for love, but for duty and diplomacy. Love was only for knights who pined for already married women. And even that was never to be except for all the yearning and sighing. And you didn’t think of yourself as worthy of a knight’s adoration either.

You put on a white shift and a pink robe over should a servant run nearby. You went out of your room to go out to the balcony outside.  It was a lovely night. The moon was up in the sky, full and round and white. Stars were sprinkled as light as sugar dust over the ebony sky of midnight. It ran over the back of the house where you could peek over the wall that surrounded the house. Right below was the garden where trees grew so tall their leaves could kiss your fingertips. And even though you could only smell the garden and never touch it, vines and flowers blossoming from them bedecked the balcony wall. Moonlight glowed over it all, giving it a shine making it seem more ethereal.

You leaned onto the balcony railing, putting a hand against your cheek. You let out a deep sigh, just enjoying it and the sounds of the crickets of this summer night. It was cooler now with a breeze that made you shiver a little. It was as if the world sighed down with you. Crickets and owls sang their music.

Then you heard the distant whinny of a horse. Your head turned, jumping from its suddenness. Did one break from the stable? You walked up the walkway to where you could peek over the wall and saw that there was a white horse on the other side. A horse you did not recognize!

Zounds-a burglar!?

You ran down to where you saw the garden. You noticed a figure in the dark with a dark cloak running forward. Your heart raced with panic. As you lowered your jaw to let out a scream and alert someone, the hood lowered.

“Don’t be afraid, my lady!” cried a familiar voice.

Out came a head full of auburn curls and a handsome, ivory face with a goatee. And you fought the urge to let out another yelp. Of all the men on God’s creation who could be down there-fie! It was the king of England, Henry! The panic ran its cold lightning down your body.

“Your grace!” you said out of surprise, dipping into a bow out of habit.

You returned up. How beautiful his curls and skin shone against the moonlight. There was a faint glow caught in his high cheekbones. He wore a dark cloak and gloves over his red doublet, its color bleeding out between the folds of the cloak.

He placed his hands out in peace and walked forward to where you stood over. The most powerful man on earth but here he seemed so little. He looked up at you like you were a giant. Like you could squash him between your thumb and forefinger.

“What brings your majesty here and why? Without your guards? No one to protect you?” you asked.

“I do not need nor want them here. Here, my dear lady… I come here under the cloak of night-she hides and protects me.”

You began to clutch the railing of the balcony, leaning over.

“How did you get in here?” you asked.

He let out a smile that made your insides wriggle in excitement.

“I climbed over the walls-I was always quite good at climbing,” Henry said.

Peeking over, you noticed how tall they were. You forgot he was young and spry, even if he was royalty. He had the energy and strength to get over a tall wall. You turned down to look at him.

“You…didn’t answer my first question. Why are you here?” you asked.

He folded his gloved hands, looking up. His brows furrowed and his shoulders began to raise.

“I spoke with your father today-and he was making a boast that concerned me…are you betrothed?” he asked.

You felt your eyes go wide. You shook your head.

“No…no I am not. The earl of Warwick is interested in me. But no, there’s no betrothal. Not yet,” you told him.

Henry let out a deep breath and loosened his shoulders.

“I am relieved…” he commented.

“What…what do you mean, Henry?” you asked, swallowing.

You saw him smile as you said his name.

“The night brought me here…and Love.”

The air stilled around you, and the earth stopped as he spoke. His own jaw trembled and though his voice was soft, you heard him clearly. Reality surpassing your dreams.

“Love gave me wings and urged me forward…and here, in this garden tonight, I am not a king who can only speak in declarations and laws and propriety. Here, there are no eyes watching us. I can speak to you honestly. I can speak to you as a man. As a man who loves you.”

You were almost dizzy. Processing it. You held onto the railing to keep your legs from knocking.

“You…you love me?” you repeated.

“Y/N…I…I wanted to give you a speech. Recite poetry and verses. But your eyes make me turn red. The sight of you and I am speechless. I cannot say a word from the fullness and longing of my heart. So I speak plain- I love you, Y/N. And that I will not be ashamed to say aloud. Not anymore.”

You then eyed the tree right next to where you stood.

“Can you climb up here…can you talk to me there…”

He then moved to the wall before yours. Easily, he pulled himself up the trees. With the grace of a dancer, he moved up and through until he went to the branch right before where you stood.   He caught his breath from the exertion, holding onto the branch to support him.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“I have never felt better as I did.”

“Then come forward, Henry-I don’t want you to fall!” you cried.

He walked down the branch, making himself steady. You reached out a hand-touching his leather gloves, and helped him on. Though you paused when you realized- you were in the intimate position of an embrace. He didn’t let go. You didn’t want him to.

“Well-this is better, my lady…” he remarked, with a naughty twinkle in his eye.

“At this point in the poems, many men call their ladies the moon….a few call their women the sun…That should give you a hint of what to say…” you teased.

Henry glanced up at the sky, he then returned to you with a smile.

“Then…then you are the stars, Y/N. The light of this night…perhaps this does make you the sun. The sun itself is a star and all go about come alive when they rise. So should the world come to life when I see you. There were times I wished…I wished I was a mere insect in this house, Y/N.”

“An insect?” you repeated with a small laugh.

You saw Henry turn pink and both of you dipped your heads into laughter again, then he continued.

“I envy each bug. Each small crook and mouse that can go in. That can lay eyes to you, hear you speak and laugh and sing and whisper. I would trade my crown to be them. For they can look at you and hear you all the time, but Harry of England cannot.”

You never thought your smile would grow as big as it currently did. He removed his gloves and set them on the railing. Then you took your hands in each other. A touch of bare skin upon bare skin. He twined your fingers between yours. He held your hand so smoothly, a great treasure. Worth more than anything he materially possessed.

“I don’t know who would get more in trouble if my father arrived. If it would be you at the sight of a man so near me, or if he would get in trouble and be exiled by the king of England!”

Smiling and bursting into laughter-how easily you could speak to and laugh with this man. The pure joy that tingled inside you when he was near!

“I won’t exile him…at least, not too long,” he said with a wink that made you flutter in your insides.

“I love you. No other embellishments- I love you. It is like you haunt me, Y/N. There were times I’ve wondered if I’ve only dreamed about you. Then I feel the itch of my clothes or the scratch in my throat and I could cry with bliss. For it means you are real.”

You began to tear up with happiness.

“I had to tell you how I felt. Before you were sold off forever. Before you followed your father’s wishes.”

“Couldn’t you command him?” you questioned.

“When I was not sure if you liked me?! And have you hate me all for forcing your hand? I couldn’t!  I had to be sure how you felt about me! And I wanted you to…to like me. Like me a little. I had to tell you my feelings before we had to say nothing for all eternity. Before a loveless marriage was forced on me too. I wanted it to be genuine- nothing of crowns and laws and power. Only my own heart beating fast when I see you smile at me.I…”

He paused. His mouth dropping to a gentle frown.

“Y/N…How do you feel about me?” he asked.

You felt yourself warm up.

“For someone who insists he is plain of speech…you are pretty with your words…and I like them, Henry- I do. And I like you. And I…I love you too…”

Giving in, you embraced him. He cupped your cheek and kissed you. Fire engulfed you as you leaned in. You felt his hot breath from his nose against your face. You could have stayed there forever in his arms. You reached up a hand to run through his hair as you kissed again. He pressed further and your body was shot. You were so drunk on love, on his touch.

Fie, the great trouble that would land you! Both of you-more you than him! And in fact…

You pulled from the kiss.

“Henry…you come here with honorable intentions-that of marriage, do you?” you asked.

He shook his curly head.

“My lady, no- I come here with no thoughts of anything vile but only with the sweetest, purest sentiments. I swear on myself!” he promised.

“Oh, good! I’ve heard of men saying things to women to seduce them…I’m glad.”

You went up to cup his cheek. He leaned into it, kissing the palm of your hand. His eyes as bright and shining to rival the moon. Then he took both his hands to touch yours. You sat on the railing, and he knelt down to talk to you, his voice and eyes earnest.

“Y/N, I am relieved you love me as I love you. As you are a bright gem to me, a sweet pet. But I come here not because I wish to possess you- only to stay by your side. I was crowned king of a nation but here, I am only your humble servant!”

“Then…could you kiss me again?” you asked.

“Yes.”

He wrapped his arms around you. He began to repeat your name as he laid a kiss on each of your cheeks, then your neck and lips as you melted into laughter from his arms. He kept murmuring sweet nothings into your ear as he held you, nuzzling you close.

“The sweetest, dearest name…loveliest, most precious of women….”

Both of you let go. How warm he felt compared to the chill of the night.

“Then…then you will speak to my father. Tell him you are interested in me. Insist on yourself as a suitor with intentions on marriage,” you urged him.

“Yes! Yes I shall!” he agreed, nodding.

There were footsteps from inside. The air stopped in your lungs and both of you fled to a shadow. But seeing that no one approached, you let out a sigh of relief.

“To think…we have to go…there might be some to hear you…” you mused sadly.

“I can’t remember how much delight I’ve had in this hour since my tavern days…to think we could be caught-the thrill of it!”

“Henry…we should exchange tokens of love.”

Both of you plucked the flowers growing on one side against the balcony. He gave you one. You gave him one. He tucked his own flower, a large, bright pink blossom, into his doublet. He put on his gloves in the strands of his belt for security.

“Here….symbols of us. To remember each other…” you said.

He said, tilting your chin up to his. You touched his arm gently and smiled.

“Henry, when you talk to father-come here. You could see me tomorrow…I’ll put my ears against the door when you talk to Father! I doubt he could refuse the king of England as a son in law and his daughter a…a…”

The word, in your disbelief, went to a mere whisper of your voice. The idea gripping you.

“a…a queen.”

“And what a queen you shall make!”

He took his hands on you and lifted you up in an embrace to where your feet didn’t touch the ground. He twirled you around. You let out a small shriek in spite of yourself, despite the risk from the surprise.

He kissed you again on the lips. The man was insatiable for you, but you would not complain about it.

“I’ve never been…been this happy…I am not sure if I want to leave…”

“Well then…you must…you don’t want my parents to suspect anything. And servants like to talk- wouldn’t you provide some interesting gossip for them,” you sighed.

“I could brave them all if I had to. But if I must…”

He held your hand as he began to climb out to the tree branch. Your own arm reached out, holding his. Just enough so that you still felt secure on your balcony.

“I will see you on the morrow, when the sun rises and all of dawn and day shall behold your face where it will stand by mine soon for all eternity…” Henry said.

“And I cannot wait until then…” you replied.

You held onto him until only the bits of your fingers touched. To memorize his skin. His feel. He then climbed down the tree. then you let go. Your own hand holding onto air. Feeling the ghost of his touch as he had to use both of his hands to climb down. Then you released it as well. Watching him vanish.

You blew him a kiss and he caught it, putting it to his lips. He bounded across the gardens. Then he crawled up and over the wall-and his cape did seem like a birds wings in the night. You ran over to the other side of the balcony wall to watch the last of him. You saw him on his white horse, like a maiden’s sweet dream. With a last smile, a smile of promise, he kicked his heels against his horse and rode off into the night until the whiteness of the steed was a mere speck.

You missed him already. But you told yourself, it wouldn’t be long now. Just a few more hours. And you would be reunited. Bound to never part forever.

#the hollow crown #prince hal #henry v #prince hal x you #prince hal x reader #prince hal x fem! reader #prince hal x y/n #prince hal x fem! y/n #henry v x y/n #henry v x fem! y/n #henry v x you #arranged marriage au #medieval au #historical au #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston characters #carrie writes #fluff #historic fiction #history #tom hiddleston characters fluff #smut #prince hal smut #henry v smut #the holllow crown smut #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston characters smut #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fanfiction

[smolvenger]

Henry V Masterlist

A collection of all the works I have written about Henry V or Prince Hal!

*= Smut

Used Goods- Prince Hal x Reader.

Why does he have to be The Prince of Wales? Why couldn’t he be just a tailor?

You are betrothed to your darling prince Hal, but the Law of Contract demands that you must be a virgin to marry the future King of England. This forces you to confirm a traumatic incident and secret from your past...how will Hal react? TW: Discussions of past sexual assault,"Who did this to you?", Hurt/Comfort, and comforting fluff.

Part One// Part Two

The Twelve Days- Prince Hal x Reader.

“You, luckiest of girls, are betrothed to marry none other than the King of England!” your mother cheered.

You were betrothed to marry none other than the young kind of England, a man you had never met. Now you must face your first celebration of the Twelve Days of Christmas not only as a queen but as a wife in a royal and still unconsummated marriage... TW: Check individual chapters, Smut in certain chapters, only a little angst, and lots of fluffy and romantic moments.

(Now Complete!)

One//Two*//Three*//Four//Five//Six//Seven*//Eight

The Wedding of The King- Henry V x fem! Reader

As king, Henry could have anything...But he could not have a wife who loved him.

Henry is looking forward to the wedding of his arranged marriage to you. You as The Bride, however, are not... (In The Twelve Days Universe but can be read without that context)

Nursing The Prince- Prince Hal x fem! Reader

"You look at the prince like he was a honey-cake!"

You tend to Prince Hal's wounds after the Battle of Shrewsbury.

Arise Fair Sun- Henry V x fem! Reader

"Here, there are no eyes watching us. I can speak to you honestly"y.

One night, Henry appears under your balcony to confess his feelings to you.

The Battle of Agincourt*- Coming soon!

"I have so much shame, so much regret…but you- you were the best choice I made as king. To choose to marry you, love you."

You follow your husband, Henry the Fifth, on his quest to battle against France for lands under his claim. It is the morning before the decisive battle of Agincourt. With the risk he might be killed in battle, you spend a possible last morning together. tw: SMUT, also discussions of death and war, some angst but also some romantic fluff.

Taglist: @4stary @sonyascomet @evelyn-kingsley @five-miles-over @jennyggggrrr @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @wolfsmom1 @eleniblue @muddyorbsblr @sidepartskinnyjeans

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, DMS, AND ASKS ABOUT MY WORK ARE APPRECIATED! THANK YOU!!! If anyone wants to be added to the taglist or removed, please let me know! Thanks y'all!

#smut #tom hiddleston #the hollow crown #prince hal #henry v #prince hal x you #prince hal x reader #prince hal x fem! reader #prince hal x y/n #prince hal x fem! y/n #henry v x y/n #henry v x fem! y/n #henry v x you #arranged marriage au #medieval au #historical au #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston characters #carrie writes #fluff #historic fiction #history #tom hiddleston characters fluff #prince hal smut #henry v smut #the holllow crown smut #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston characters smut #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fanfiction

[smolvenger]

Nursing the Prince (Prince Hal x fem! Reader Oneshot)

From: The Hollow Crown (specifically the events of Henry IV Part One)

Word Count: 3641

Summary: You tend to Prince Hal's wounds after the Battle of Shrewsbury.

Warnings: Mentions of death and battles, but no actual violence. I try my best to sum up in modern terms what happens in Shakespeare's Henry IV Part One for those of y'all who watched and got confused. But a bit of angst and lots of fluff. Medical practices that I'm not sure are period accurate but it's my fic and I can do what I want. Reader gets a Badass mom.

A/N: Thanks to @evelyn-kingsley and @holdmytesseract for encouraging me to write this! I wound up loving creating this!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp

You followed your mother’s footsteps as you held a basket full of herbs. Just ducking out into the hallways. You kept a handkerchief and pressed it to your mouth to brave the bad smells. Once you were out, you released it, taking in the cold air of the upper floors of the castle.

“He’ll be fine- wasn’t too much pus from him,” Your mother mused, reflecting on her last patient.

Both of you walked down the stone hall to a bench. Your mother set her basket there and then pulled out a certain herb.

“This-see? This helps with sleeping. It helps when brewed into a drink.  And the king has had trouble sleeping sometimes-we’re going to give this to his physician who’ll give it to him. But you should know it too- in case you need it.”

You grinned at her. You took the herb and twirled it through your fingers before setting it down.

“I will. That’s good to know,” you confirmed.

You always admired your dear mother. She had a curiosity about plants, the human body, and of medicine since her girlhood. Though many discouraged her for years, saying such studies were only for men. That it was inappropriate for a lady who had connections to the throne to have an occupation. She ignored them to pursue her passions. That knowledge helped her heal a sick servant once. Then her own cousin. Then her cousin’s daughter. And so on, so forth- one after another would file after her. Soon, even those in the castle began to request her help. So, her life and free time was devoted to acting as a healer.

When she married your father, he did not force her to squash her talents but praised and supported them. Your intelligent, empathetic, defiant, and passionate mother in some circles may have been rumored to be a witch, but she was a heroine in your eyes.

Naturally, she asked you to assist her, and you agreed. You had to keep your mouth shut seeing skin sewed together. You became used to the sight of blood. Though there were times you would indulge in a look away at something gruesome. But you were catching on every day and learning what she knew.

“Well then, we might be called for an audience with the king himself. So stand tall and mind your manners,” she began.

You heard some doors creak open. Though it was early in the morning, visitors were common in castles. When your head turned, there was a jaunty rhythm of footsteps. A rhythm you knew too well.

Could it be? No…it couldn’t. He hasn’t returned since…

Sure enough, there was a flash of red from the next hallway. A bright red among that cold, grey castle where not even the sun could shine on today.

 Yes- it was! The Prince of Wales! Prince Hal! For that was what suited him- he had his father’s name and inheritance. But not his father’s standards of princely behavior. You pinched the herb as you took in the sight of him in his red jacket and red cap.

Yes, Hal…the young prince. The wayward, badly behaving prince. The prince more familiar with taverns than castles, thieves than lord, and whores than ladies. One would think the prince was no better than a rake.

The times you saw him, interacted with him, talked to him, nervousness made a pebble in your belly. You feared he would think you…boring. The kind that would make him run back to the taverns for adventure. But he looked you in the eyes after you curtsied and first gave him your name. He’d look at you. And listen. And if he didn’t like you, he didn’t act in a way to show it. You spoke at the banquets and parties you were invited to- when he showed up, of course. The odd castle dinner here and there. Part of you dreaded seeing the infamous scoundrel pop out. But he…he was always nice to you. Polite, perhaps as any prince. He listened to you more than he spoke. He asked after you and your parents.

Though you saw the glint of his eye of craving excitement…there was something more inside him. He was more than just a rogue. There was good inside him. Maybe even the potential to be a good king himself when the time came (And Hal being such an astonishingly beautiful young man definitely helped your bias).

You felt your own heart pick up speed. Despite the cold castle, you felt hot and self-conscious when he turned his head and saw you. There was a sad look in his eyes, his jaw tight. But his eyes widened at the look of you. But an Earl- an old man dressed in black fur robes- prodded his shoulder. The earl pointed sternly to the throne room. Hal glanced again at you, confirming he saw you, and then walked off in that direction.

“Mother-the prince! The prince is back!” you hissed.

“Back?” she repeated.

“He’s rarely around here anyone! Is something the matter?” you asked.

“Haven’t you heard?” she replied.

“No, I haven’t.”

She sat down on the bench, and you sat next to her.

“I’ll tell you the short of it, Y/N. The Earl of Northumberland’s son and heir, Hotspur, has just won a successful battle for the king. He took several men of the opposing army as his prisoners. According to law, anyone who takes prisoners in battle must give them to the king- it is their due and the law. But Hotspur refused to give the king the promised prisoners- right in the king’s face! In front of all court! The king was not very happy about that- imagine! -  and insisted he do so.  Then Hotspur got his family to agree with him- and they realized something. They got a claim to the throne.  They’re all a part of Richard’s side of the family, York!”

Richard the Second, the last king, was a king you only heard of. A king like a wisp of light. A king with a beautiful, blonde French queen who floated by him like a goddess on earth. A king who seemed only part of this world, not all mortal. A king with yellow robes and sleeves like a butterfly’s drooping wings. A king who spoke with a high, soft, gentle voice compared to Henry the Fourth’s low gravel. A king from a fairyland or heaven. A king who also taxed heavy. A king who took the money of old men as soon as they were dead. The king who lost favor with everyone. A king abdicated so that the people’s favorite- Henry IV- would replace him. But it seemed Richard hadn’t lost favor with everyone. Especially not those of his own family-of York.

“Y/N, they’re teaming up and going to overthrow the king himself on the throne! So can you blame him for being tense?” she finished.

“That would make me tense!” you agreed.

She shook her head and clicked her tongue.

“Many hail Hotspur as a hero. But believe me, my dear, he’s no better than a petulant child throwing a fit over not getting the toy he wants!” she vented.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. You held up an arm to shut it off. Then you placed the herb back inside the basket.

“So If Henry is going to battle- he needs help…like his son.” you mused

Like thunder, you heard the voice of the king echoing in the halls as he scolded his son. You hardly heard Hal’s response.  Even if you couldn’t make out all the exact words-God’s blood, the king sounded scary when angry! If the king was your father and scolded you like that, you would tremble and burst into tears in the throne room. It made you wonder how Hal would fare!

A servant said the physician was busy. You were escorted to a dining room to wait. Then there was a knock. But it was not the court physician.

‘His majesty, the Prince of Wales,” the servant announced.

In walked Hal, though he lacked the red cap he wore walking in. It freed his hair, so his auburn curls loosened from his head. Chairs creaked as you and your mother stood up and bowed.

“I noticed that both of you ladies were here and wanted to say my hellos,” he greeted.

“Consider us welcomed, your grace,” your mother replied.

“What happened with your father?” you questioned.

“I’m going to battle by his side. He’s giving me a command of my own. And I vowed to go and fight Hotspur- man to man,” he recalled.

“You’re going to go to battle…why should the heir apparent have to go to battle? Is he worried about losing the heir?” you questioned.

His blue eyes hardened, but he kept his voice soft.

“Father’s unhappy with me. Everyone knows that. I will redeem myself and trade Hotspur’s glories with my shame.”

“By dying?” you asked.

“If I die, I redeem myself, Lady Y/N.”

 You then took out your handkerchief, twisting it in your hands nervously.

“I have three other brothers more fit to inherit the throne. Or it will be Hotspurs. Father says he wishes that so himself,” Hal continued bitterly.

You took a step forward to him. To think this could be the last you would ever see him alive. He had to know. Had to know that even alive, he was…liked? Perhaps even…loved? No- no you couldn’t’ allow yourself that. Though your heart and soul knew otherwise. But you could let only a slip of fondness for him out. Just a little at a time. Especially while Hal still lived.

 You handed your handkerchief to him.

“Here-have this with you. Keep it by your side!” you insisted.

He accepted the light, pale cloth in his hand.

“Promise me should you live, you shall return it to me,” you continued.

He broke into a smile and a small chuckle. He played with the handkerchief with his long, beautiful hands.

“My lady- I couldn’t take your precious item,” he refused.

“No! Take it! I mean it!”

He moved the collar of his red leather jacket to his black shirt beneath. You felt the breath hitch in your throat to see a peek of his bare skin. Then you forced your eyes off it. Looking down to the floor like a modest maiden, not one who saw a glance of skin and could imagine more from it.

“Did you know the last time I had a favor from a woman it was from a prostitute?” Hal asked.

You perked up. Your mother raised an eyebrow.

“No, we didn’t!” she cried.

Hal let out a laugh, nodding his head.

“I did! I was at a joust for my father! And got a glove from the most experienced prostitute in London-and wore it!” he recalled.

“Do you compare me a whore, my lord?” you asked.

“No! But…I shall say I had yet to receive an act of kindness from anyone from any person here at court…”

He let out a deep exhale through his nose.

“Lady Y/N, thank you. It will be worn with pride,” he promised.

You gave him a small smile. If this was the last time he saw you- that’s the picture he should have.

“My Lord-please be careful. And train. Train so you can fight,” you advised.

“I always do, my lady,” he said, giving you a wink before he said goodbye to your mother and walked out.

Your mother was smiling ear to ear. She went up, grabbed your arm, and hissed in your ear.

“I’m old, but not blind my dear!”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Ladies don’t give favors to men they dislike. And you look at the prince like he was a honey-cake! I don’t blame you, though-he is definitely something to look at!” she said.

“Mother! Such talk! What if he overhears?” you whispered.

“And risk getting The Prince of Wales as a son in law? I don’t see any reason why not!” she responded.

You playfully swatted her arm. Then you both melted into giggles before it was time to continue with duties.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The day of the battle arrived. The day when the Northumberland rebels would face the Lancaster army. The day Hal would go to war and fight Hotspur.

It was a cold, grey day. Anytime you stepped outside the gust of wind whipped at your face. That morning there was a snowfall that stuck to the ground, and then was mixed with the mud.

How perfect, you thought in a dry tone.

 You would do your best to distract yourself. After all, it wasn’t like…you were married to Hal or anything. You paced about, unsure what to do, what to think. Perhaps you could go to your mother and confess your worries and cry. But you kept them hidden. Perhaps it was foolish to love a prince. Princes marry the daughters of kings, not the daughters of healers.

The day faded to the early evening. You sat in your chair near your mother. There was weaving and sewing to be done. With the crackling fireplace and howling wind, it was quite peaceful.

A servant ran up, bowing his head low and back up.

“A messenger, My lady! From Shrewsbury!” he announced to your mother.

Shrewsbury- where the battle was. There was going to be news at last. You dropped your sewing onto your lap and gripped the arms of your chair. A messenger- with blood and dirt smeared on him, came forward.

“Well, what do you have to say?” Mother urged him.

“The Battle is decided- The King won the battle over Northumberland. His caught enemies shall be executed. The rebels are captured.”

The words spewed out of you in desperation.

“And what of the prince?”

“The prince Hal lives- led his command to victory today.” The messenger reported.

You jumped at the words, dropping the sewing, and then picking it up. But counting every blessing. Becoming dizzy with relief.

“And Hotspur himself?” asked your mother.

“Slain by an old, fat knight called Sir John Falstaff. All are surprised but Falstaff shall be honored as a hero,” the messenger answered.

You sat back on the chair, smiling. Feeling the urge to well up a tear of happiness. Hal lived! He lived!

As the sun dipped further, you expected no further visitors. Yet as you were visiting the kitchens, you heard a knock on the door. You were alone- no servants around to answer.

“Must be the new one. He gets himself locked out,” you mused.

You opened the door and let out a shriek at the sight.

Hal stood there in his armor. His face was bloodied and dirty. His hair wet to where his curls hung limp on his face. He was panting deeply. His black horse stood in the distance.

“Your grace! My lord! What are you doing here?!” you cried.

“My lady! Let me in-please!” he begged in a pant.

You opened the door further. You realized he was limping; you pulled a chair close for him to sit.

“I need the help of your mother-I’ve been hurt! And there’s no better healer than your mother,” he explained.

After giving him a cup of cider, you raced back up.

“Mother! Mother! Quick! The prince is here! Prince Hal! He’s hurt! He’s in the kitchen and he needs your help!” you cried.

Your mother dropped her jaw. Then, picking up her skirts, she ran down. You followed her.

“Your grace- tell us! What hurts?” she asked.

“My…my leg…” Hal said.

She inspected it, then looked at you.

“We need cloths-hot water. Get some bark of the willow- should help with his pain!” she ordered.

You ran out, scrambling to get the items. He took off his heavy armor that fell with a crash to the floor. You returned with the supplies. He nibbled on the bark, grimacing at the bitter taste. She cleaned the leg with wine, washed it, and wrapped a bandage about his leg.

“You must rest, your grace. It isn’t bad- should heal with time. What else hurts?” she asked.

“My…my chest…and my shoulder…” he said.

You both helped off his armor with more loud crashing onto the floor. Your mother then removed his shirt to inspect the wounds. He was a lean man- a stomach with some softness in it and such a broad chest and biceps. You felt a twinge of lust, light as a sprinkle of salt over a meal, enter you looking at him. Trying to keep your behavior appropriate (he was not just a man- but fie, the future king!), you forced your eyes onto the cut on his clavicle.

“Hmmm…some damage there. But not deep. And nothing vital. Shouldn’t be bad,” your mother diagnosed.

She handed you the bowl filled with wine.

“Y/N…I think you should practice. Could be good use. First tend the wounds with strong wine to clean it…” she instructed.

She handed over a bowl of water and bandages.

“And then…some of this to clean it out. Then wrap it in a bandage.”

“But Mother…I don’t know if I…”

“You’ve seen it hundreds of times, Y/N! Here- I will go and check my herb closet for whatever else could help. I will be back later!” she interrupted. She let out a smirk at you.

You leaned closer and whispered to her before she left for the door.

“But-unaccompanied!”

She shrugged, her smile becoming devilish with the show of teeth.

“The prince is not the kind to take advantage of young ladies alone. And it won’t be long! Go and nurse him, Y/N.”

She kept her smile at you as she left through the door. You first took one wash cloth and wiped the dirt from his face. He accepted it as easily as a child. His bright, blue eyes looked up at you, saying nothing.

“There…better to see you now,” you said.

With a deep sigh, you forced your eyes on the cut on his left pec and down the left shoulder. Focusing on the task and not the stirring inside you from being by a half-naked Hal. Or at least, trying.

 You dipped the cloth into the wine and touched the pec wound. Hal winced a little.

“Not even royalty is immune to pain…” you commented.

“No, we are not…” he agreed.

You continued to wipe at it. Making sure the wine got rid of any infection.

“I’m glad you’re alive my lord.”

“I am too though…is it bad that I crave honor?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“You want to please your father. That I can imagine- I wish to please my mother, too. I want to live up to her as well.”

He shifted to keep his eye on you.

“But you do, my lady…you do!”

You set down the dirty cloth into the bowl of wine.

“And…I haven’t forgotten. My lady-look into the breastplate,” he guided.

“How come?” you asked, getting a cloth from the bowl of water. You rolled up your sleeves to squeeze the excess out.

“Your favor! I lived and I shall keep my word- it is yours again!”

You pressed the cloth to his wound.

“Hold it on there,” you advised.

He did as you retrieved the handkerchief. He was right- it was right there in his breastplate. A square of pure white among the silver. You picked it up, smelling his sweat on it- smelling him. Not that you minded the scent of masculine sweat and blood- blood that still coursed through him.

“My lord! I…thank you! I’m…I’m glad you are alive.”

“How come? Why should my death concern you, my lady?” he asked.

You turned around, both hands on your handkerchief again.

“Because…it would have been sad and…”

After some hesitancy, you added four words.

“I would mourn you.”

You then took the cloth back to the water. Blood stained the leftover water in the bowl. You then got a dry bandage. But Hal softened his gaze on you.

“All of my great shames…and I am worth your tears, Lady Y/N?”

When you wrapped it around and tied it up, you turned back to him. Seeing the shiny drop of a small tear in the corners of the prince’s eyes.

“Yes, my lord, I would…”

He then lifted his hand and placed it over yours, stopping it from moving away. You paused, not daring to take another step away. You didn’t want to- not from the feel of his touch.

“When we’re alone…could you call me Hal?” he asked.

“Yes, Hal, I can,” you replied.

He smiled.

“Oh, to live now and hear you say it!”

He cupped your face and then kissed you. You dropped leftover bandages in your hand from surprise. You felt his breath and tasted smoke and sweat. He wrapped a hand around you to keep you there. You leaned into it, feeling everything explode inside you, grabbing his face too to keep it close. Your inhibitions running wild, and all sense of decorum thrown out the window. All for the love of a prince.

He let go. You picked up the cloth again, smiling at him. His face was flushing and smiling back.

“Hal…that was…that was…” you mumbled.

“I’m sorry I frightened you, my lady. I should have asked, I-“

“No- that was beautiful!” you said.

He leaned closer to you.

“Then I should do it more.”

He then let go as your mother returned through the door. With her herb basket placed at her hip. She walked forward. With false chastity, you took a few steps away and he jerked his head to her.

“I trust His Grace is better,” she said.

He looked at you.

“Much.”

#the hollow crown #prince hal #henry v #prince hal x you #prince hal x reader #prince hal x fem! reader #prince hal x y/n #prince hal x fem! y/n #henry v x y/n #henry v x fem! y/n #henry v x you #medieval au #historical au #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston characters #carrie writes #fluff #historic fiction #history #tom hiddleston characters fluff #smut #the holllow crown smut #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fanfiction #hiddlesverse #hiddles characters #tooth rotting fluff #tending to wounds trope #henry iv part one

[smolvenger]

The Wedding of the King (Henry V/fem! Reader)

Summary: Henry consents to an arranged marriage to a Lady Y/N. He is enthusiastic about marrying this beautiful woman upon meeting her. But as the wedding day arrives, he learns that she, however, is not.

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: Discussions of the fear of rape, as well as masturbation and sex without any actual smut. Men are gross (but not our boy Henry- he's a king in more ways than one). Medieval era attitudes and attempts at accuracy. Some angst but a lot of fluff. I snuck in references to Hamlet and Six The Musical. A reworking of a speech from Henry IV Part II

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise

A/N: hi guys! This one-shot takes place in the same universe as my miniseries The Twelve Days. But it's not required and hopefully will make sense outside the context. I got an idea from an ask to expand it with some one-shots and to write something more from Hal/Henry's POV. I was in a rush to write the first part bc I Wanted the whole shebang done by January 6th (and then I didn't. Oops.) So I realized I didn't go into detail about the wedding. I should have, because I read a blog post about how medieval-era weddings went and I thought it was fascinating. So this one will focus a LOT on the wedding, as well as before and after. I hope y'all like it- comments and reblogs and asks and dms about my work are appreciated!

The Earl of York spoke of her like that of a Disciple proclaiming the Word.

“This family shall be most advantageous in a match! They have always sworn duty and loyalty to our court. They have served us faithfully and will make excellent allies. I say you must reward them. And there is a daughter they have- the elder one. All of us in Parliament agree that she is the best match to be your queen!” he bragged.

Henry rested his arms on the ends of the throne. It was quite a tumultuous time. In less than a month, not only had he lost a father and gained a crown, but now the court had selected a potential wife.

“What of her? Who is she? What is her name?” He asked.

“Lady Y/F/N of the House of Y/L/N,” the Duke of York reported.

The Duke of Salisbury stepped forward, adding on.

“I met her at a ball hosted by her parents. A most virtuous, good lady. Her parents assure us she is chaste, of course. We know she will obey her parents should they agree to this match. No protestations, no running away, no rebelling- so the marriage will happen smoothly without incident. And, as a man, I must confess- she is beautiful too!

The Duke of York cut back in.

“Additionally, many kings and queens of many countries are your relations. And they say that marrying too much within the family distorts the minds and even bodies of the children from their union. I say, to keep the minds and bodies of your heirs undisturbed, you look to England for your wife. And what luck that we have found Lady Y/N!”

The Chief Justice nodded and then continued.

 “You are young, but so is Lancaster’s hold on the throne. You are only the second one after your father usurped Richard. You must secure your claim by taking a wife and siring an heir to continue your line.”

Perhaps as king, he could refuse them. But there were too many practical advantages. And they were all right. He never expected as he took the throne to marry for love. No, kings married for alliances and heirs. He took in a deep breath.

“Then let it be so. Go to her parents and tell her the betrothal is done now. And then bring them here- I’d like to meet her at least once before we are married,” he ordered.

His powerful voice echoed in the throne room The lords nodded and headed through the wooden doors to begin writing some eager letters.  

Part of him would rest a little easier. He would cement his hold on the throne, indeed.

But who was she? This Y/N? He was bursting with curiosity. Even excitement. The visit was set for the next week. He couldn’t help but count down the days amidst the parliament meetings.

Finally, the day they would be introduced arrived. He greeted each servant with a smile. As he breakfasted with his brothers- The Princes John, Thomas, and Humphrey- he announced.

“You all have a sister now. But she will also be your queen and you will still respect her-she is already part of our family! I asked you all to think of me as brother and father- think of her like a sister and mother.”

They nodded their brown heads and gossiped about her and her family.

An hour before, he went to his chambers. His attendants dressed him in the dark cloak with the jeweled clasp, the one from his father. Such dark, dreary colors he had to wear on what should be a joyous day. He looked out to where a bird chirruped right outside the stained-glass window.  

“I would like some fresher air, let me walk the gardens for a minute,” he ordered.

He would meet his betrothed- not only a wife, a queen! In only an hour! He paced about the grounds, trying to urge his heart to still. How could he woo this woman? Many men won women over by saying pretty poetry that made them swoon. Others danced so well that one could see the love in the ladies’ eyes. He could do neither.

What did ladies like? He looked down to notice the flowers in the gardens. Most ladies liked flowers, so it was foolproof. Some still grew despite the October cold.  But there was a small purple wildflower that caught his eye. He bent down and picked it up. That should be her gift!  He could give her jewels. Offer lands. But that would only show him off- no. There would be time after that.  A flower would fit for his first gift. He would show humility. His honor for the union. His honor for her.

The Lord of Exeter, his uncle, hurried through and approached.

“Your grace…they’ve arrived!” he urged with a smile.

Henry walked through to the inside, his guards following with their tall spears and silver helmets. His brothers were just behind among the attendants of lords. Eager to peek at the woman about to be their sister-in-law.

He paused before the throne room. Knowing she would be there. Just between those doors was England’s queen! He took a moment to breathe in and savor the last minute of being a bachelor. The old man with a black hat and a large cane stood before, awaiting the signal.

Exhaling deeply, Henry then nodded. The old man tapped the staff on the floor. The doors opened to the throne room.

The old man announced, in a booming voice “his royal majesty, Henry the Fifth!”

The crowd in the stone throne room turned to him. Bowing heads low as he passed through them. Which one was she-which one? There among the crowd, was a woman in a decorative pink dress. Two people- her parents- gestured for her to walk forward.

It was Her.   

She bowed her head down. She looked up at him, hands folded before her, right into his eyes. Henry felt frozen where he stood.

They were right.  She was beautiful. Truly beautiful to him. He felt a shock. The punch of desire, run through his body, his spine, his stomach,  his groin. He felt pulled to her like a moon drew the current of the ocean. He took a step closer. She looked him in the eyes, but he noticed her shoulder raise up.

He knew he frightened ladies. Most shivered in his approach. Prior to being king, despite his title, the higher-born princesses he met scoffed in his face when he was introduced. They knew his exploits as Prince Hal. When he went to Eastcheap, the Lower born women bowed without speaking. And Tavern Women were the ones who loved him- because he paid them to lie with their mouths and for him to lie in their beds.

In her presence, he almost forgot to speak. Her eyes reduced him to be not a king but a silent schoolboy. Then he remembered his words, rolling out his tongue.

“Lady Y/L/N. I greet you, most fair lady.”

“Your majesty,” she voiced. She bowed again for good measure.

God’s blood, he loved the sound of her voice already. He could hear her say that all day. The wedding couldn’t be soon enough.

He reached out his hand and she accepted it. He moved it so her palm faced upwards. He put the wildflower into her hand, right on the palm. Then he moved her fingers to curl over it. Her eyes went big.

“May I kiss your hand and call you, my queen?” he asked.

She nodded. Rather than lifting her hand, he bowed his head low. Like the flower, he would offer humility to this woman. He kissed the hand that held the plant and then returned up.

That dinner, she was placed to sit next to him. Her parents across. Forks clicked on plates on the wooden table. Her elder brother leaned towards him.

“Your majesty, her father and I will have her trousseau ready. We will make sure everything is in order for her dowry as well- we will speak to you after dinner about it in detail.”

Her trousseau; Her clothes. The clothes that soon enough, every night he would remove off this beautiful lady, kiss her bare flesh. And for the first time in months, and he would…no, now was not the time for that sort of thought.

Henry nodded his head. He still felt himself blush.

“That is all good...So, tell me, Lord Y/L/N. How are things with the rest of your family?” he asked the father.

“My mother is sickly, and it troubles me, else she’d be there," the father explained.

Would Y/N make a comment about that? He looked at her-no she didn’t. The utensils clattered against the plates as they ate. Click, click, click.

“The Duke of Lancaster-John, here,- encountered Hotspur's fellow rebels a little while ago- he has grown into quite a warrior- John, would you to tell us that?” Henry prodded.

John nodded and told them all about what happened. She made no reply. Click, click, click, went her fork and knife.

“What do you think of this, my lady?” Henry asked, turning to her.

The lady looked up. And then she nodded.

“I…I think…I think it is well. The Duke of Lancaster did very well,” She answered politely.

“Do you like the food, my lady?” he asked.

“Yes, I was hungry,” she answered.

She only spoke in short sentences. But even that was enough for him to hear her voice.

“Are you excited about the wedding?” he asked.

“I…I am. I only hope it shall please his majesty. And my father and mother as well,” she replied, eyeing them.

“It shall, Lady Y/L/N, it shall,” Henry assured her.

Her plate was cleared. She set down her utensils and wiped the remnants off her lips with her napkin. What would those pretty lips be like to kiss? How would they feel on him? In November, when the wedding was set, perhaps he would find out.

“This castle will be your home soon, what do you think? You’ll have access to the chapel, libraries, and large gardens- the queen always receives a stable full of beautiful horses all for her. What do you make of that?” he asked.

“It…it sounds nice,” she answered.

She was only shy. It only made her more endearing to him. Perhaps with time, she would open up.

“Our daughter enjoys dancing. And she is accomplished at sewing,” the father added.

“Do you?” Henry asked.

“Yes, my lord.” She answered.

“I’m sure you will have all the time you like to sew as you want when we're married. And there will be balls for you to dance for hours- would you like that?” he added on.

“Yes, my lord,” she repeated.

Once the dowry was established, the Lord's Y/L/N- father and son-bowed low and kissed his hand. Far more formal than the usual masculine embrace of about-to-be in-laws. As they returned to the crowd about to set off, Henry approached his intended and kissed her hand one last time.

“I will see you anon, my queen. Sleep well and stay in good health,” he said.

“And may you stay in good health, also,” she replied.

That night, he felt himself burning. Every time he tried to write a letter, he found he couldn't find the words to write to her. He paced about his chambers in his night shift. Excitement, as well as arousal, bubbled inside him. Soon, she would be here. She was only shy for a first meeting- he knew he had the crown on him! That was natural! But that beautiful woman would be on his bed. Opening more of her thoughts to him, as well as her legs. There would be nothing on her, nothing on him either. Then he would lay on her. And for the first time in months, he would enjoy the comforts only a woman could give him.

The memory of touching her hand, her bare skin, made him hard during that those nights before the wedding. He had no taste for prostitutes or even concubines anymore. They weren't her. So, in the privacy of his chambers, with the memory of her touch, he merely imagined her there. He closed his eyes, and relieved himself with his hand, whispering her name like a prayer.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The day of the November Wedding arrived at long last.

Minstrels began to play on their lutes and drums as soon as he left his chambers. He embraced each of his brothers and then entered to begin the procession to the church outside the castle. Henry was draped in his own red cloak with gold in it with a rich red doublet and pants. They walked out to the courtyard just outside the castle entrance.

As he walked outside, the London crowd gaped and gathered to see the line of people forming the party. Already, he could hear the loud bells from the church signaling the start of the wedding. One group walked entered from outside the gates and the minstrels began playing even louder. His heart raced and he smiled noting a white blur as it got closer- the bride.

“A most joyous day of days- I welcome all of you!” he announced before his people.

 They paused as the father approached with the about-to-be queen on his arm. He looked down and opened an arm to greet her.

But when he approached the head of the party, his feet stopped where they were.

 She did look very pretty in her white wedding dress. It was trimmed with gold that shone when she passed sunlight. Her father stood, grinning right next to her. But there were circles beneath her eyes. He saw her hands shake as she clutched a bouquet of flowers. She was blinking rapidly as if to fight off crying. And she wasn’t smiling. 

The English people and court were witnessing an exhausted, terrified, timid young woman on the verge of tears rather than a radiant and smiling Royal bride.

Her father placed her on Henry’s left side, as Eve came from Adam’s left. John, as the Best Man, checked his sword in his hilt. He was decked in armor and a red cloak, his sword by his side. It was tradition and not even royals were beneath it. John then mounted a horse to trot next to them. He was armed just in case the bride was kidnapped. But as Henry looked at her, she might have welcomed it.

They began to walk towards the church, the minstrels playing against the bells from the cathedral. Her gaze was always low, she never looked at him. When her eyes met his, she still didn’t smile. She backed off from even his cloak brushing her.

She seemed to shrink before the doors to the large chapel. It was as if her wedding dress regressed her into a little child. Even though everyone knew she was a woman grown and deemed fit for wedding and bedding.

His in-laws and behind, including his two youngest brothers and his uncle.

The priest for the ceremony would be the Archbishop of Canterbury an old man with a scratchy white beard. He held up a ring and asked in a scratchy voice.

“Does the bride’s father permit the marriage?”

“He does,” answered the father.

“Are the bride and groom related by blood?”

“They are not. He is of the house of Lancaster. She is of the house of Y/L/N,” answered the father.

The interview went on until the priest nodded his head. John swung off his horse. The doors swung open.

He took note of her, following her steps. She moved slow. Yes, it was ceremony. Henry partially wondered if she was delaying arriving at the altar just a little. When they arrived, her father caught up to be by her side. She handed him the flowers. John was by Henry’s side. Both escorted them to face the priest. The chapel was filled with the various courtiers. Members of her family were scattered amongst the pews as well.

The Archbishop took her hand and lifted it up. He placed it in Henry’s, he made sure to make his own hand light, as not to grip her. He noticed her chest slowly rising and down, deepening the breaths.

“Your grace, you will make your vows to the bride.”

He looked her in the eye. Trying to soften his voice. Maybe that would comfort her. He repeated after the priest.

“I will have and hold you in bed and at the table, be you fair or ugly, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.” He vowed.

She gazed up at him like a doe. She blinked. He noticed her jaw unclench. The archbishop delivered a brief sermon on the sacred nature of marriage. He then blessed the ring and handed it to Henry.

Henry held the ring and repeated if after the priest.

“In the name of the Father…”

He slipped it on and off her first finger.

“…And the Son…”

He slipped it on and off her second finger.

“…And the Holy Ghost…”

On and off the third finger.

 “…I thee wed.”

He then placed it over the fourth finger of her left hand. She looked down at the golden band. Admiring it.

“Now, both of you kneel before the Altar for Mass,” instructed the priest.

She let go of his hand and they followed suit. Her father, John, and the Archibishop brought out a canopy, a long, white fabric. It was placed over his and the lady’s head.

“Kyrie eleison…”  sang the church choir before them.

 She was close. So close. Hidden betwixt this sheet. But not the passionate bedsheets of lust. The chaste, sacred canopy of church. The sunlight from the windows and candles filtered over the white sheet and he could see her.

He looked down at her. She looked up at him. Her hands had been folded to pray. But here, they could be granted some privacy. At least during the day. Of course, it was right before the Sanctus, in the pause between liturgy. When he shifted his hands forward, she backed off a little. She didn’t want to be touched now. He had to use words.

“How are you?” he whispered.

“I’m tired, my lord,” she replied.

He gave her a small smile.

“I am too.”

He gave her a wink. She did break one small smile at that.

“We…we need to go back to praying. They might hear.” she prodded.

“I agree,” he replied.

Finally, after the Amen, the attendants took off the canopy, revealing them. The archbishop returned the lady’s hand to join the kings. Then he went to Henry and kissed his forehead.

“I Bestow you the Kiss of Peace. You may give it to your Bride.”

He leaned down and lightly, so lightly, pecked her cheek. The archbishop made the sign of the cross over the couple. John then went over and handed a tiara to Henry. Henry placed it over her head. A wedding and a brief coronation in one.

“I now bless and pronounce thee, King Henry the Fifth and Queen Y/N, husband and wife," the archbishop announced.

The choir sang “agnus dei” as they both walked out together.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It was a lovely feast. There were love songs sung by the talented minstrels. Flutes lilted as ale and wine decked the plates. Flowers and gold were everywhere in the throne room, converted into a dining hall. There were more meats, loaves of bread, fruits, and delicacies than the king himself could name. As he finished off a leg of chicken, he checked in on his new wife next to him.

She could only stare out quietly and sip on her goblet. She had not said a word to him since they were served dinner.

Her mother arrived, curtsying at the table.

“Your grace, I would like a word in private with my daughter,” the mother announced.

“Then that you shall…” Henry nodded, gesturing for his new wife to be dismissed.

The mother led her out to the hall outside the dining hall. But Hal himself walked up, saying he was going to speak to the Duke of Burgundy who traveled all the way from France to the wedding.

Then he stopped at a corner. Standing right outside the hall- his ears peeled for the conversation between the women. He then stole glances at them sometimes, when he knew they wouldn't look.

“Y/N, my dear…you are a married woman now. We’ve discussed the specifics. But you must be reminded. There comes the…responsibility you bear. That is, to bear him on you..this would happen no matter who you married.”

“Yes, mother.” She nodded.

“The act is…not pleasant. It is painful when he…enters you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do. I’ve been thinking about it all day,” she replied.

“I trust you are chaste.”

“I swear on it, I am.” She replied.

“There will be bleeding and pain the first time. Men tend to be…enthusiastic. They are full of lust. It is their nature, how God made them. But considering who your husband is…Tonight, it will especially be expected. You will fulfill the very reason you were brought here. You will do your duty to your husband. And you will do it tonight. You know how important it is for the king to have a male heir.”

“Yes, I do, mother.”

“The act is... It is uncomfortable. It is awkward. But it is your duty. As a wife, you must do it. You will be brave and do what you have sworn to do not only for your husband- but for your king, and for England…”

“I promise, I won’t let anyone down. I don’t want to disappoint you or the king…I won't be a disappointment, I won't!” she insisted.

 “You won’t shut him off. You will enter the king’s bed…lift your skirt, spread your legs, and let it happen. It won’t be that hard. Just lie down on the bed- that’s all you have to do. It’s what he expects of you, and what he will want of you…men on their wedding night expect this. And the king will be no different.”

“Yes, mother.”

She touched her daughter’s arm to comfort her.

“Many men are…excited to bed their wives the first time. And no doubt, with such a vigorous, virile young king as we hear he is, he shall be. So tonight, it might not take long. Sometimes, men get so excited to perform the act that after they enter you…it ends quickly. It will only be a few minutes. Then you can go to sleep and go about as normal. And then you’ll have a baby to comfort you - doesn’t that sound nice?”

“It does.”

The young queen then touched her mother’s sleeve, her knuckles popping out as her hand turned into a grip.

“Mother will he….force himself on me?” she asked.

She paused.

“I don’t know…. And considering he’s the king…honestly, I’m not sure if you have a choice in the matter. When Henry says you and now…it’s you and now.”

He heard her start to cry. Her mother then hugged her, wiping the tears from her daughter's eyes.

“But you’ll live here in this wonderful castle, you will have dozens of servants and a baby someday…and you can always write to us…”

She broke the hug and then held her shoulder to look her in the eye.

“I say this only to prepare you. You will do your duty to the King -yes?”

“I will, mother. I won’t fail England. Or father and you.”

“Good. We are proud of you. And like I said, it will hurt…but it will be quick. Just a few minutes of pain, and then it’ll be done.”

He then turned his head and walked away. He asked for some ale and asked after the rotund, red-cheeked duke,  per his promise. Noting when mother and daughter returned to their seats. He then got back to his.

“Would you like to try the beef they made for us? They spiced it well, my lady,” he offered.

Her plate, loaded with food, was untouched.

“No thank you, my lord…” she replied.

“Do you feel sick? Do you need to retire?” he asked.

That last one did not come out the way he intended. Her eyes flashed up at him in a glare.

“I do not feel sick, my lord,” she replied firmly.

There, in that voice, was a touch of how she really felt. The flash of anger. The look she gave him, with a frown and crossed eyebrows. There. She was just like every other lady. She was frightened of him.

More than that-He revolted her. He disgusted her.

In short, she hated him.

If she wasn’t under the pressure of a royal marriage, if she wasn’t under the guidance of the court, the church, and her mother’s words…she would bolt from his side. She would lock her doors tight. She would avoid him. And if he offered his hand up to even walk chastely with him through the grounds, she would swat it away, screaming, and fleeing off.

As king, Henry could have anything. He could have spices imported from the East. He could command armies to march and invade lands for him. He had his own stable full of horses and hunting dogs that were all his. He could have exotic monkeys as pets. He could eat feasts every night and throw parties as he wanted. He could have the money stowed for the church if he wanted. He could have every other woman in England as his concubines. He could lay heavy taxes and have all the gold and wealth of the people in England.

But he could not have a wife who loved him.

If only the feast would hurry up. There was no way he could be alone with her. To talk to her. Perhaps to calm her down, let her know who he really was. Not until it was time for dismissal. But he found his plate, though half-eaten, had satiated him. He set down his fork. He saw his wife’s eyes grow big at the sight.

He turned over to the Earl of Exeter standing by him.

“Uncle … I think it’s time the queen and I excuse ourselves.”

A servant brought away the plate of untouched food from the young queen’s table. Her head turned his direction. She placed her fists onto the cloth napkin and clutched it.

The Lord of Exeter gave a naughty smile and drew his hand up. The minstrels stopped playing and the guests stopped chatting.

“Everyone, the king is going to retire with his bride to his chambers. It is now the hour where-to quote that Danish song- he will open the chamber door, and she will enter a maid and leave a maid no more,”

There was some snickering from a few male courtiers. A knot formed in Henry’s throat. The bride kept her head down and curled into her chair. She looked like a dog scared of its violent master.  

“The Bishop, the Lords, and her servants shall follow them to their rooms to sleep…or to be at it like rabbits…”

“Uncle, it is my wedding, let me speak,” Henry interrupted.

The Earl of Exeter closed his mouth and bowed his head. Henry stood up. He lifted his goblet in a toast.

“The rest of you shall stay here and drink another cup-for the blessing of the royal marriage. I am now not only a king, but a husband as well. We thank you all for celebrating with us today. We shall ask for your prayers for God to protect us both. May He lead us to wisdom and kindness with each other as we enter a new, sacred covenant…to health of the Queen of England!”

The crowd repeated “to the health of the queen!” as they all drank.

With a shaking hand, the queen took the goblet and downed water-maybe wishing it was wine. She then went up, and before the servants could escort her, she went down hugged her sister and her mother.

Then they gathered in a circle, lit torches, and walked down to his chambers. Minstrels beside them walked behind, playing away as one relayed a bawdy song about keys and locks with holes. The night had gotten dark and only that light was around. Behind were Henry’s three younger brothers. The Chief Justice, in a way, the surrogate father for the four Lancaster brothers, followed suit.

Down they walked. They entered the king’s room. Once it was father’s-and now it was his.

“Thank you all," he wished the party as they went inside.

Servants arrived and undressed them both. But he kept noticing many of the men leering at the bride as her ladies began to undress her. She eyed them nervously- a gazelle before a pack of hungry lions.

Henry then asked for a screen to be brought. A page boy arrived and set it up. She scurried behind it. One lord sighed in discontentment. Henry shot him a glare.

She would not suffer. If there was one thing he could do, he would not make her suffer. And he would remind them all who was really in charge. And she would know who it was she was really married to.

His jaw lowered when she emerged from the screen. She had no jewels or crown. She only had a simple white shift. Her feet were bare. She was raw, natural…and still beautiful. He wanted to embrace her in his arms. Kiss her head. Assure her all would be well. Protect her…

She was shivering. It was a November night, deep in Autumn with winter right in its nip. She raised her arms to hug herself. On her skin, he could see gooseflesh.

He brought her father’s old cloak and draped it over it. He offered his hand. She did not swat it away. She accepted it and he led her to sit down.

He then ordered all of them out.

“Now the rest of you- please leave the room…and do not stay at the door if you are not the guards…”

“But your majesty, we must make sure the marriage is consummated. You could at most close the drapes around the bed, but we must make sure you do your duty to your wife. For St. George and the sake of-“

“Yes, that is tradition. But seeing as I am the king now, here is a new one. I ask that all of you leave and go to your own rooms.” Henry protested.

They looked at each other in confusion.

The same lord spoke, “But how will we know if-“

“I’m sure once we discover she is pregnant, you will know the marriage is consummated. Now leave!”

No, he was the King of England now. Even as a prince, the guards had no choice but to let him out to visit Eastcheap. They couldn’t stop him. And every butcher and brawler bowed to him as he walked the streets.

And these earls would not be voyeurs on his wedding night. No matter how much they wanted to. Let them return to their rooms and pleasure themselves over imagining it. They would not see what would really happen.

And that poor girl would not be tormented before them.

 She flinched when he turned to her, but he assured her. Then, slowly, she placed her hand into his. She felt warm, soft to touch. She confided that she was not ready to consummate the marriage.

“You don’t need to worry. Nothing will happen tonight…”

She let out a deep exhale. He poured her a glass from the jug fill of spiced wine. It was tradition for the husband and wife to share it before they went to bed. It smelled of cinnamon. As he poured his own cup and sipped it, he could taste it’s slight kick in it’s dry flavor.

“You didn’t eat anything at the feast. Would you like me to ask for a plate?” he suggested.

“Yes, my lord.”

When he went up to the guard, he quietly requested “Please bring a plate of food for the queen. The feast leftovers will do.”

The guard raised his eyebrows in shock. This was not the sound he expected to hear that night. But he dipped his head and went down. But she drank her wine and ate all of her food.

She fell asleep curled up beneath the blankets on the bed. Finally, after everything, she was at peace. He finished the letters he had to write at his desk. He kept peeking over to see the bump in the blankets and it’s slow breathing. He went back up to the guards.

“I’d like to delay the morning mass for later. Let’s say around ten.  It was a long day. She needs to rest…and so do I.”

The guard nodded.

He went into the bed. It was big enough to where he wouldn’t be able to touch her. He curled up on his side, listening to her breathing as he closed the bed curtains and his eyes.

They slept in. The mid-morning burst through the room, through the curtains.  He awoke before her. She was still asleep. He paused to admire her through the slivers of light.

The attendants arrived, surprised to find the king and queen turned to the opposite sides, away from each other. He wanted to shake her awake, but his hand stopped. No, he would not touch her when she did not want to be touched. He let a lady in waiting wake her.

They sat in the castle's smaller chapel for morning prayers. They waited for it to start when a bishop would arrive to lead them. He sat next to her on the bench on the first row. He turned to her.

“Did you sleep better?”

“Aye, my lord.”

“That’s good…may I eat with you, my lady?”

“Aye, my lord.”

At breakfast, they sat at the table. He was on one side with the high chair, just as his father did before him. She sat on the other side. Close and far away.

“I don’t think I ever gave you a wedding gift," he said.

“I received many wedding gifts, my lord.”

“The court isn’t around you…you can call me Henry," he suggested.

“I received many wedding gifts…Henry.” She corrected.

“Is there anything you would…you would like? Name it, and it’s yours.” He offered,

She looked down, a bit hesitant. Then she opened her mouth.

“I’d like some new dresses if you don’t mind…my trousseau was full of my old ones. I’d like ones that would fit me now that I’m…that I’m queen, please.”

“Oh, of course! I will alert several people. You can have as many as you would like!"

“Thank you, Henry.”

He felt himself blush a little at the sounder of her voice saying his name. He ate another bit of food. The lute in the corner began playing.

“Y/N…do you have a favorite color?” he asked.

She blinked. She answered him. He kept note.

“Mine is black…black and red,” Henry replied.

It was small, but a start.

He asked to enter her room in December. It was the day after the Feast of St. Stephen. They would eat dinner together. The Earl of Warwick had to be the messenger this time. He blushed and nodded. Everyone knew when the king asked to dine with the queen, it was expected for them to make love after the meal. But he would not expect that. He just wanted to be alone with her. To talk to her even more, with the guards at the door and not around the wall.

He had finished studying and his brothers and the chief justice saw them off. As he knocked and entered, the door closed. The Cheif Justice began chatting with John as they walked off to the halls. Yet the two youngest Lancaster brothers, stayed behind, peeling an ear to the door.

“My lady Y/N,” Henry greeted her.

“My lord and king,” she replied. “The dinner is almost ready- they’re about to bring it in. I’m sorry the table is bare…”

“Don’t be. We can wait.”

The servants brought in the food through the door and left. But as they walked off, they noticed Thomas and Humphrey remaining. They looked at each other and kept their ears at the door. The two little brothers kept spying on the couple until there was the sound of footsteps from the hall.

"Where are they? Where are the Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester?! cried the Chief Justice.

He arrived with John right outside the door. The boys jumped and returned to their feet with obviously fake innocence. John crossed his arms at them.  The Chief Justice looked red beneath his long, white beard. He huffed through his bulbous nose. He put his arms akimbo.

"What are you doing outside the queen's chambers?"

The boys looked at each other. Their lips were quivering.

“We just…just wanted to…to know…what happens, you know? The... Act. Father never got the chance to tell us what happens on the Wedding Night so…we just…” Humphrey explained.

The Chief Justice shook his head. John turned to them.

“I’ll explain it to them.” He offered.

He walked forward, and with both hands, yanked the ears of his two little brothers. They both went “urgh!” with the pain as he dragged them both away from the door. Off to give them the fateful talk without overhearing anything in person.

The guards stiffened their jaws to keep from smiling. The Chief Justice followed them.

If they managed to stay, they would have been disappointed. The “Act” did not happen that night. They only talked.

“My father compared me to Richard…Before I made an arrogant remark, and he struck me…” Henry recalled.

“Well, serves him right!” she said.

That made him laugh. They talked more as the ate.

“Has it occurred to you, Y/N, that you’re the Queen of one of the largest, and most wonderful countries of the world? And if they bow before me, they should bow before you,” Henry said. Her eyes widened and she blinked slowly. Processing the information.

Then they went to bed. But only to sleep. She told Henry she wasn’t ready yet. But they lay closer together.

“Y/N…has a man ever held you…held you in his arms….” he wondered.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“I wanted…wanted to know…I can touch you without…without…”

“Are you asking to hold me?” she asked.

“It’s cold. And you get cold easily if I recall.”

“Then yes, you can hold me…” she confirmed.

He wrapped his arms around her and he felt her arms reach around him. She felt so warm and soft. She smelled of the lavender they must have put in her bath today.

“Y/N…can I kiss you…” he asked.

“You’ve kissed my hand," she replied.

“On the lips, I mean.” Henry specified.

That felt bold. But this time, she did not object.

“Yes, you can,” she answered.

He raised his large hand to cup her smooth cheek, but as light as if she was made of glass. She looked him in his eyes, eyes he could stare at until they consumed him. As they laid their heads against the pillows, he craned his neck forward and kissed her. She tasted like wine and sauce. He felt himself blush red hot and could feel the breath from her nose. His heart burst forward and began to race with excitement. He was glad he was laying down, his knees felt weak from her lips. Finally, finally, he did it. He kissed her. And he knew that he would give her half his kingdom and his throne too if she blessed him with her lips again and asked for them.

He let go, the lips smacking quietly as they parted. The fire crackled as white puffs of snowflakes fell outside the window.

“Goodnight Henry,” she said.

“Goodnight. Y/N.”

He looked down on her as she slept. Far from the bride with shaking hands and blinking away tears in November. So peaceful. So warm. So safe. Henry felt something fill up his chest as he watched her quiet breathing again. Only this time, she was nestled close to him.

Once he was certain she was fast asleep, He then whispered lowly. Words like those he once spoke over the father he thought was dead.

“My gracious lady…my wife…”

She did not stir to awaken. She stayed in the realm of dreams, where she could not hear him. That made speaking these words easier at the moment.

“This is a sleep which gives much rest to those most troubled. You most of all. What is due from me is fidelity and acts of gentle patience, which nature, love…”

He leaned down, and lightly, oh so lightly, pecked her forehead.

“And marital tenderness I will give you, plenteously.”

The wind whistled as more snow well.

“Your only debt is to have someone who will treat you well-which as your husband I owe you. So, rest, sweet Y/N. And I will stay here I will guard you. Until I fall asleep beside you.”

He then prayed. Looking up, a small smile on his face.

“Dear Lord, I thank you…I thank you for her…she will be good for me…she will teach me so much…let me be a good man for her…”

She wouldn’t hate him. He would do everything he could to make sure she didn’t hate him. If he could not be loved, he would be liked. Perhaps he could be liked. And then, one day, one day at last…she would love him.

He smiled as he fell asleep, embracing his wife.

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[smolvenger]

The Twelve Days- Chapter Eight: Epilogue (Henry V/fem! Reader Series)

Previous Parts: One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven

Series Summary: Your family betrothed you to known rake Prince Hal now newly reformed and crowned as King Henry V of England. As December ends and January begins, you must face your first Twelve Days of Christmas Celebration not only as a new queen, but a new wife to a man you are just beginning to know and bed.

Chapter Word Count: 4K

Chapter Warnings: Only some light smut towards the end. Discussions of grief, death, childbirth, pregnancy, the fear of a wedding night, and children. But lots of very sweet, fluffy moments and a happy ending. Attempts at historical accuracy and some Shakespearean terms (like "wag"="boy")

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

A/N: I hope you enjoy the finale! Reblogs, asks, private messages, and comments on my works are always appreciated!

Taglist: Taglist: @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract

Four years later. May.

When the previous king, Henry IV, was full of thought, he couldn’t sleep and paced about the castle all night. When his son, Henry V, was full of thought, he would shoot arrows.

His royal majesty, Henry V was outside on a warm day with guards and attendants, of course. The sun shone over the blanket of green grass and bushes that rustled only slightly with the breeze in the garden. Despite the outside pleasantness, any servant or guard could tell Henry was visually worried. His mouth was in a tight-lipped frown and his face was as white as the clouds. Targets were placed outside in a row before the grounds where your favorite flowers were kept. His eyes sometimes dart to them, to remind himself of you, he would then focus his gaze on the red center of one target.

His curly, red-streaked blonde hair was swept out of his face. He nicked in an arrow and drew the bow as he lifted it up gracefully. He kept his eyes steady, aimed it, the tip of the arrow pointed at the center, and with a deep exhaling sigh that made him drop his mouth left open, he released it.

FWOOM!

The arrow stabbed through the air and landed right at the center of the target. He had done this for the past month but inside the castle. You were now in your ninth month of pregnancy and had to be kept confined to your chambers to guarantee the child’s safe delivery without outside illness. No one other than the ladies in waiting, priests to bless the room, or doctors were allowed in and out. Not even him.

Henry understood it. He had been through this specific anxiety not too long ago. But it was still torture for him. To be separated from you, not even able to visit for a minute, as preparations were made for a birth- something that killed so many unfortunate women, no matter if they had a crown on their heads or not.

You had insisted Henry be present at least when the children were born. Like any sensible King of England, he wanted to execute an invasion of France. But the moments you discovered you were pregnant, you pleaded with him to at least be there right after the births- he had to see them. Should he die, he had to at least look on his children’s faces. Even if they would never remember it, they had to have their father tell them with his words in front of them, that he loved them.

The king had to be kept far away lest he break the rules of confinement. All of England knew how much he adored and doted on his wife. Some remarked how surprising it was that this passionate, fiery king kept no mistress, not even when your belly swelled with child. That he would visit your chambers defiantly whatever condition you were in. Some said it was a little of the rebellious old Hal that would never die in him and would not listen to the advice of the elders to not bed a woman. And some said it was because no one wished to risk unleashing their fury from "Queen Y/N the Kind-Hearted". It was exactly because of your heart that you had a great rage that terrified many when it was unleashed at those deserving. "The gentlest cat scratches the worst" they would say with a grin. Some gossiped that one Christmas season early in your marriage, you pleaded to your husband early on to remain faithful and he relented to it- out of concern for you. Out of love for you.

And that love gave some a political advantage and key to either Henry's favor or wrath. A good word with you would earn good favor with the King, as well as the opposite- those who made enemies with you or threatened or even insulted you would regret it. Not unless they wanted to have a bloody end under Henry’s sword.

And everyone knew, just like before, that your cries of birthing pain would move Henry into a desperate state. He would be madly dashing into those chambers. His large hands on the wooden door, guards and servants attempting to hold back the tall, strong man and failing, before he kicked and ripped the door to your chambers open with his bare hands to rush to your side. But the delivery was not for him to witness. Other than you, it was for the expertise of the physicians at court and the help of the ladies.

So his advisors and servants would have to force him away and distract him the second it was announced that your water broke. And now here it was again, for a second time, and they knew the steps of this tricky dance. Give him arrows. Let him shoot and ride every horse of his outside for hours, away from where he could hear you. Keep his mind off. To only allow him in on two instances- the delivery was going to become fatal for mother, child, or both and he had to arrive to say his goodbyes. Or when it was done.

So, arrows it was.

He hardly noticed when the lady-in-waiting arrived, treading on the grass. He glanced at the yellow of her skirt out of the corner of his eye. He whipped his head around and froze. She curtsied to him. There was a small smile on her face.

“Well, what news?” Henry asked, his heart racing in hope.

“She has delivered of a princess, a healthy one. Both mother and daughter are well. The physicians say the queen is expected to recover soon, as she did the last time.”

Henry dropped the bow and arrows so that they splattered in the grass. His posture relaxed and he broke into a smile.

“Thank you,” he told the lady.

Henry broke out into a run to the other end of the garden and his own attendants did not stop him.

“Sire- sire!” they cried, trying to keep up with him and failing as they held onto their hats and huffed.

He then only slowed down to a fast walk to a certain corner of the garden, notorious for mud after it rained. To where Henry knew he would be. He- the first child whose birth he fretted over so much three years ago. On the grass, right before some wildflowers, his nurse overwatching right nearby, squatted the next Henry, the heir, his royal majesty Henry the Sixth.

His hair tended to curl like his father’s, but his eyes matched that of his mother’s. Henry the Sixth was destined to rule four countries, create laws, raise, and send armies, and hold all the power of a mighty nation.

Not that that mattered to the little three-year-old boy, often called Hal like his father. Little Hal did not care for being the next king, at least not yet. Little Hal was far more concerned with eating bread with butter until it smeared his face, chasing after his mother’s cat to pet it, and running with his tiny, chubby legs through the gardens to stomp in mud puddles.

“Ah, Hal! How is my boy?” The king asked kindly.

Little Hal looked back up. He was picking up a few purple and white wildflowers in his grubby fists.

“Papa! Papa!” he cheered, arms up and jumping up and down.

Henry picked up the small boy easily into his arms and inspected the flowers in his son’s hands before turning to him with a smile.

“I have some good news- your mother had the baby, and you have a little sister now. Would you like to meet her?” he asked.

Little Hal’s eyes widened, and he smiled cheerfully on his round cheeks.

“You must be good to them and mind them- you have a sister to help look after as well as play with- you’ll do that, aren’t you?” Henry asked.

Little Hal smiled and held up the flowers.

“For mama!” he announced.

“Why yes- won’t she love them! Let’s go give them to her now!” Henry said, giving a small kiss on his son’s cheek.

Carrying Little Hal, he arrived there to your rooms, the very rooms were for the last month he was blocked from entering. The guards opened the doors and he walked through. It was warm, stuffy, and smelled of the incense from the priest's blessing. There was a small crowd of physicians and the other ladies-in-waiting who served you. They were getting rid of the bloody sheets and the afterbirth in buckets.

But there, warm and safe on a clean bed, was you holding a newborn baby.

Yes, you felt exhausted. Labor was aptly named. But the hours of the pain of delivery were forgotten once you looked upon the little face that stayed inside your stomach for nine months. Her brother would sometimes greet her with a little “hello, baby” as he lightly touched your bulging belly. That Twelfth Night feast as you sat on the table before the guests next to your husband was when she first started to kick. It was so strong even your dress moved beneath you. You immediately pulled Henry’s hand from resting on the table to feel it. How mighty her legs were already- she was a fighter, like her father.

But here she finally was out of your stomach at last- a tiny little face, calmed from crying and nursing, in a warm, white bundle in your arms. Hearing footsteps and the door, you turned your head to the side to see your little son and husband.

“How are you?” he asked as the childbirth party before your bed all bowed to him.

“We’re both alright, my lord,” you asked.

“Thank God! I couldn’t be more relieved, sweetling,” Henry replied.

He leaned over and kissed your head. But the little boy in his arms wriggled.

“Mama! Mama! It’s for you! I missed you, mama!” he cried, waving the flowers.

“I missed you too, my little wag, but now you can visit me whenever you want for as long as you need,” You said.

He wriggled until his father set him before the bed and placed the wildflowers from his dirt-stained hands onto the little table next to your bed.

“Oh- Hal- for me! How sweet of you! Thank you!” you responded graciously, smiling to admire the boy’s bouquet.

Henry’s eyes went down to the bundle. Already you could hear bells pealing outside to announce the birth of the princess, just as they did when her brother was born three years ago.

“I’d like her to be called Blanche…” you announced to everyone.

“Blanche! She was my…my sister…” Henry recalled; he told you about her late at night against pillows.

You nodded.

“I still remember the day her husband sent the letter- dead from childbirth. Father was so close to her before she was married off. He shut himself in his room, crying. He was inconsolable for weeks.” He recalled.

“I’d like to remember her and carry on her memory…her name is Blanche- Princess Blanche,” you announced.

The crowd bowed their heads in acknowledgment.

“Could you please leave us for a moment?” Henry asked.

They followed and walked out as the bells continued their joyous pealing outside. Henry went over to sit on the other end of the bed.

“I wish my father could be here…” he said.

“Would he even like me, Henry?” you asked.

“Y/N, he would have adored you! Probably more than me! I can already hear what he would say…” he commented.

You bared your teeth in your smile with a wicked glint in your eyes.

“Then mimic him! Hal, sweetheart, would you like your father to do the voice? To hear what your grandfather sounded like?” you asked, turning to your son, getting up to sit on the other end of the bed.

Little Hal began to cheer, pumping his little fists up and down, “The voice! The voice! The voice!”

Henry smiled and adjusted his posture the way his father would. He lowered his chin, and waved his hands, mimicking the dark, low, garbled voice of Bolingbroke:

“ 'Well, it was about time he married that Y/N! At least she could knock some sense into wild Harry’s head! Now- where are my beautiful grandchildren!? Bring them to me now so I can spoil them rotten-hmph!’ ”

He then opened his arms to hug and tickle little Hal, who burst into laughter. Then there was a sudden loud, cracked coo coming from the tiny bundle in your arms from the commotion. Henry let go of his arms and turned back. He relaxed his shoulders and let go of his son, eyeing her- the new arrival, the princess, not only your daughter but his. He sat down on the bed, leaning against the pillows next to you.

“Can I hold her?” he asked.

“Yes, you may,” you answered.

Thankfully, Blanche didn’t cry as she was gently shifted into her father’s arms. She only cooed again. Henry was beaming down at her. He broke into a gentle smile. As he settled her onto the corner of his arm, arm, he used his free hand to remove a bit of the blanket to look at her tiny face. Her closed eyes, small nose, little mouth, and two small hands grasping out. He stuck a finger out for her to hold and he noticed her light grasp from minuscule fingers with nails like specks of seashells.

Just as three years ago with the arrival of the boy, he felt his chest burst at once with love. He would fight a hundred men for this small princess, if not die for her. As well as for his son. For his family.

“Hello, Blanche…I’m your papa…” he said quietly.

The crown and the throne now mattered very little. Only her, her in his arms. Maybe forces outside his control would send him to war. Or an assassination. To be king was to watch someone be showered with power one day and then slowly die. It was a blessing and a curse. But if Blanche heard nothing else, even if she would never remember it, he had to say one thing:

“Your mother and I love you, so very much.”

The darker thought left his head, and he gave her a kiss on the forehead. She wiggled a little in his arm, getting used to her own tiny body outside of a womb. Henry smiled down at her, noting the tuft of hair on top of her that resembled yours, and how warm she felt- and the fresh smell of soap from how they cleaned her.

“She’s beautiful, Y/N…we’re going to have a joust and a feast at the christening to celebrate her arrival…and I’d like to commission a painting made with the four of us…” he said.

He stood up and rocked her and Little Hal turned his head with a squeal. He saw your cat trotting through your rooms. Already Sir Gwaine had matured from kitten to cathood, his body large and he himself into his own long, orange fur with a handsome set of whiskers and puffed tail. Sir Gwaine walked forward, eyes wide to examine the scene. Little Hal gave a happy cry of “cat! Cat!” and pushing himself off, he waddled over to embrace the pet. Sir Gwaine blinked and tolerated the little boy’s arms around him and even when Little Hal picked him up.

But Henry began to keep rocking her, slowly. Smiling. She stretched out her hand and touched the end of his beard lightly.

“I think she and Hal could use a few more brothers and sisters to play with!” Henry suggested.

“Oof-Easy for you to say, husband! Let me rest before that!” you insisted, adjusting yourself from behind to sit more upright against the pillows.

Sir Gwaine then let out a protesting “meow!” and Little Hal let him out of his arms, much to his giggles. He then looked up at you and returned to your side.

“Would you like to hold your sister, my dear?” you asked the boy.

He nodded his head yes. You patted the bed, and he climbed up to sit upright on it again.

He had learned how to climb up and off the grand royal beds. Of all the people on earth, other than you, Little Hal was the only one in England allowed to disturb the king’s sleep, especially if he woke up and had a bad dream. There would be a knock on the royal chambers and a servant would be holding the hand of the little boy crying for his papa or mama.

Little Hal sat up and Henry gently laid down Blanche.

“Here, Hal- one hand for her head and another for her body- like that. She’s delicate, so be gentle,” he instructed.

Little Hal smiled, eyes shining on his little sister.

“I love you, sissy!” he babbled before leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"There you go, my wag," you praised, kissing the top of your son's head.

And after a few minutes, you leaned over and gently took back the baby. Letting out a deep sigh of relief. Henry asked to hold Blanche one more time before the attendants returned. She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him. They were blue- his shade, his size, his shape. He quietly burst into happy tears and was still holding her and smiling when they walked in.

And indeed, there was a feast and a joust to celebrate the Princess, just as there was when her brother arrived. And you smiled brightly from your throne, insisting Blanche bundled in soft, Lancaster red swaddling so you could hold her during these events as Henry swooped up little Hal to sit on his knee to watch the dancing brought to entertain all of you.

The physicians predicted right, much to the entire castle’s relief, that you recovered in time without illness or problems. Though you had to lay down to rest for a few weeks for the recovery period. You insisted Henry, a courtier, or at least a servant give you a report of what was discussed in court. Motherhood was not going to hinder your determination to use your position for the better. Courtiers would often appear in your chambers.

One day, you sat on a chair and nodded, listening intently to the updates.

“We found five children, siblings- on their own on an empty shed in London. Their parents were dead in their beds. They were living off the trash others threw out,” the Lord of Exeter reported, hands reading from a scroll.

“Make sure those children are brought to a good home, and see they are fed, clothed, sheltered, and educated. I would also like a report on any reactions to the new bill and the advice given to my husband…if I do not see him today, tell me where his mind is at. Oh! I almost forgot!-Tell me about the French ambassador’s gifts before they are presented. You understand how certain items will offend my husband and we do not wish them to drive him against them out of frivolity yet. I may persuade them otherwise.” you advised from your chair by the fire, rocking little Blanche.

Henry sometimes, in the evening, would ask you to dinner during that month. Though you were still in the period of recovery and did not need the passion of bedding him, you didn’t have to spend a night in pleasure for him to be there. Just together. You two would still simply hold each other, one wrapping arms around the other, pressing a kiss to the other’s shoulder, and sleepily recalling the day and chatting until you both fell asleep.

And soon enough, you had returned to continuing life as normal. You attended court by your husband’s side to advise him and do whatever you could. You visited your family’s home occasionally or had them over, especially to see the little children. The three younger Lancaster brothers proved to be wonderful playmates and uncles to the royal children. You walked the gardens and enjoyed sewing circles in your chambers, only to have one of the royal cradles by your side to occasionally rock little Blanche. Everyone knew that it was a servant’s job to rock the cradle in the nursery at night so the royal couple could sleep unperturbed. But during the day, you wished her to be as present as you could- your children would grow up knowing their mother loved them. As well as their father.

Three months after Blanche arrived, he asked to dine with you in your rooms. The ladies had been sent away last before he knocked. So when Henry first entered that night, you were alone. You wore your robe, nothing else. Mere minutes after he entered, you both were on each other like rabbits. He kissed and touched you like a starved man. His large hand easily pulled off your robe. It was not long until even the great bed beneath you shook as he thrust into you. Your euphoric cries of “Please! Henry-yes! God-Henry! Yes! Th-there! I’m going to- I’m going to-” echoed, much to the blush of any servant walking down the outside hall that hour.

And the next morning you and Henry woke up in your chambers together, both of you bare among the sheets. But it was a beautiful, light, pink and purple dawn and you both smiled. You couldn’t help but laugh and cover your face recounting the last night’s events, but Henry himself propped himself to lay on his side with a smug grin and his bare chest puffed like a rooster.

“Ah, so I take it from your sore legs that you enjoyed last night my lady- did you?” he asked.

You burst into laughter, the words babbling out of you like water.

“Yes! Yes, I did Henry I-I I enjoy every minute I spend with you! Goodness, I’m glad I didn’t sneak that knife-“

“Knife?” he repeated.

“On our wedding day, I thought of hiding a dinner knife beneath my dress. So if you tried to force yourself on me, I would have stabbed you. Then I was told at the wedding feast that the court would watch us undress that night. I would have been caught and the knife removed- perhaps I would have been imprisoned right after. It would have been useless. And even if I managed to somehow get it past them, what if I killed you that night? How would I get away with killing the king? They would have still cut my head off!” you recalled.

“Well, I’m quite glad too you did not kill me either!” he replied with a laugh.

You leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“I’m also glad I didn’t because- because I love you, Henry…” you said.

His eyes softened and so did the smugness of his smile. He leaned over and cupped your cheek.

“I love you too,” he said. At long, long last he could say what was inside him and hear those three blessed words with your voice playing them like music. You both leaned over to kiss each other lovingly for a minute, embracing each other genuinely.

“May I join you for your morning ride? The nurse has the children today and I don’t think I ever tried it,” you requested.

“You need only ask,” he replied.

It was after the morning mass that you both went into the stables. And anyone- from the lowest servant to the highest courtier- could see a flash of white over a green hill outside the castle. They would see a white horse- Henry’s favorite- and both the King and The Queen on it. You were right in front, holding onto him, smiling as Henry gripped the reigns to adjust the speed of the horse. Both of you smiling at the wind picking up in your face and the thrill of the horse’s gallop beneath both of you.

There- with your two children healthy, with the protection of the crown and your every needs more than provided for, the ability to do what you could for the better of the country, and most of all, with Henry- who you loved deeply and who loved you in return- you thought your mother turned out to be right after all.

You were indeed the luckiest woman in England.

#the hollow crown #prince hal #henry v #prince hal x you #prince hal x reader #prince hal x fem! reader #prince hal x y/n #prince hal x fem! y/n #henry v x y/n #henry v x fem! y/n #henry v x you #arranged marriage au #medieval au #historical au #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston characters #carrie writes #fluff #historic fiction #history #tom hiddleston characters fluff #smut #prince hal smut #henry v smut #the holllow crown smut #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston characters smut #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fanfiction

[smolvenger]

Used Goods, Part Two

Summary: You are betrothed to marry your dear Prince Hal. But you are informed of a law that says that the woman who marries the prince or king must be chaste or else you are committing treason. That is unless someone tells the Prince before the marriage. This forces you to go to your beloved and confess how you were sexually assaulted as a child. How will he react? Is your engagement now over?

Warnings: Discussions of Past Sexual Abuse, Some Angst around the middle but lots of Fluffy and Hurt/Comfort Moments. . Discussions of marriage, and a bit of mild violence at the end. Spoiler Alert: Hal respects women.

A/N: Hi guys! The inspiration for this was that I was reading about Catherine Howard, the fifth of the six wives of Henry VIII, and how it was because of the Law of Contract, that she was not a virgin when she married the king (in addition to her allegedly wanting to commit adultery) that she was executed. So it gets...cathartic and dramatic. The actual assault is never portrayed but discussed.

In case you couldn't tell, I'm on a huge Tom Hiddleston kick so I HAVE to write something with my personal favorite (non-Loki) character of his, my boy/Babygirl Prince Hal. This is super indulgent hurt/comfort and fluff, so enjoy!

“Y/N, are you in danger? Are you being threatened?” he asked, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“No, I am not…” you responded.

“Are you sick?”

“No, it’s only…I just…I just found out…your father’s advisor, Warwick, he just visited me.”

“Oh, Warwick! The wisest, good fellow. He always defends me before father when I need it most,” Hal commented.

You sat down on a chair in front of the crackling fire. Hal looked back at you.

“What is it, my love- you’re trembling!”

Looking down, your hands were shaking. Your lips were quivering yet no sound came out.

“ And what about the…the Law of Contract. Did he…what did he say to you?”

He sat down on the chair near you. His brows furrowed and there was a darkness in his eyes. Dear God, he was going to get angry, you feared. But it had to be over with. You crossed your arms over, slumping in your chair.

“He only reminded me of it. He said I cannot be an unchaste woman and marry you. But…Henry…Henry, Hal, Harry I…”

The words wanted to come out of you…but it was not quite there. You saw his grip on his knee begin to clutch.

“Y/N…we are alone. You are safe, you can tell me.” He assured you.

“Henry…I won’t be entering this marriage a virgin…” you confessed.

You saw the expression on his face had only changed with his eyebrows raising.

“So you”

The words came out of you, the most important detail of it all.

“But it wasn’t my choice!” you cried.

He froze. There was silence except for the fire. You put a hand over your mouth and backed deeper into the chair.

“You mean…”

Then it went alight, his blue eyes blinked and then went big. His beautiful face turned stark white. He walked up to you. You wondered what he would do- strike you? Chide you? Break you off at the spot.

You flinched a little when his hand went up, but you realized it was to touch yours. He knelt to you as you sat on the chair, in front of the fire.

“My lady…when did this happen?” he asked kindly.

So, his anger earlier was not at you, thank goodness! But there was a seriousness in him.

“I…I was a child. Nine years old, I think…I don’t remember my age exactly…”

“What do you remember? Can you tell me?” he asked.

“I can…I remember…some…”

You looked into the fire. Maybe not looking at him would make talking about it easier.

“It was an Easter gathering. My family was around. So many cousins and children and grandchildren…so many in such a big house, no one would notice if two grandchildren slipped away to play…”

Your heart began to pick up speed. The words couldn’t be formed. Yet Henry’s squeeze of hands gave you strength. It made you turn, look him in the eye, and recount what happened.

“He…my cousin he…he was then a youth, an adolescent…he took me to one of the guest rooms. Then he asked me…asked me to take off my clothes. At first, I said no and then I stopped. I was curious. I wanted to know what would happen. He made me feel special, chosen, lucky- so I said I changed my mind and yes. So, I did. And then he took off his clothes…he took me on the bed and…”

They were stuttering out of you, like a babbling brook trying to ease its way from a crack in the wall.

“I didn’t…I didn’t know what was going on. Finally, I remember crying at the end. I felt his…his…his manhood, you know. Then I begged him at last, crying, to stop…and he stopped. We redressed. He ordered me not to tell anyone…”

“And did you?” he asked.

You felt the touch of his hand on your face, and you turned to look at him. Now tears were welting in your eyes.

“I told my parents and my brother…”

“And what did they do?” Hal asked.

“He was banned from the house for a few months…then all continued as normal. They said he cried and felt guilty and that relieved him of the guilt apparently. He enters our house and prances freely like any other guest. He is married now- the most beautiful, kind, bright lady. I don’t have the heart to tell her. IF anyone else in the family knew, they pretend like it never happened…”

Hal got up; he paced the room briefly. Then with great force he went to the wall and slammed a fist against it, huffing out in frustration. The noise made you jump. You dropped your head into your hands to cry, steadying your breath. He returned to you.

“Which cousin of yours did it?” he asked.

You cupped his ear and whispered a name. You looked up a few of his golden curls were undone. His eyes were large and he ungritted his teeth when he looked at you.

“Henry…go ahead. Let me go. Set me free. That’s the law.”

With ragged breathing, you began to slip the ring off your finger.

“I am not fit to be your wife, princess, much less your queen. That’s what it says. I committed treason against you- you, my dearest gift from heaven, the love of my life- long before I even met you. And I will not be the one who betrays or ruins you.”

Tears went down your cheeks and you did your best to stay still, somewhat calm. You held the ring and offered it to him. His face was white and his jaw was tight.

“So go ahead, Henry- I won’t mind. It is what it is. End the betrothal.”

There was a pause. Silence again.

Then he went up to you and embraced you. He smelled of the horses he liked to ride in the mornings, but you didn’t mind at all. It was all-encompassing and warm. You let yourself relax into it.

“I won’t,” you heard him say.

He then knelt again and put the ring back onto your finger.

You let out a little gasp and then with it let the tears break into your voice. Your face scrunched. You leaned into him. You buried it into the redness of his leather jacket. He didn’t care for any stains it got despite its beauty. You hugged him tight, and he even rocked you a little. You let yourself cry heavier into him, and you felt his hand on his back.

Hal knew of rape, especially from war stories. He was raised to be a warrior as well as a prince. Once he even told his Eastcheap friends one night that during those wars, virginities could be purchased cheaply. That the threat of rape to village women would motivate any defiant town to surrender its gates to an army in a second.

You might as well be one of those village women.

Yet, how little did he think! How foolish he was! Guilt tightened his throat as he felt you shake with crying in his embrace.

How he had yet to not only gain his lady’s trust…but to hear of this. He didn’t think of those “virginities” as real women, real people. He didn’t think what they would go through and live beyond that hour of terror. That it would haunt them all their lives and torment them if they did not die that moment. That every day there were wars being fought and raged over women’s bodies…and that even the most beloved, respected, and treasured, wonderful woman in the world, you…

Those women were just more of you, and more to cry in front of fireplaces in their fiancé’s arms. And that was if they survived! To think if only he had been around to protect you! Had he failed you already?

God Above, he would not fail you again. Not now or ever.

“You won’t?” you repeated his words.

“I won’t. Y/N, I’m going to marry you, no matter what.”

You blinked rapidly.

“But the law…”

“Fie the law- I am the Prince of Wales, and soon the King of England…”

He released the hug, clutching both of your hands.

“Why must we submit to strict, unnecessary laws when we are kings? Rulers? Why should we be old-fashioned when we can make rules of our own? I say…when we are on the throne, we shall make our own laws, our own rules as we want them…” he boasted.

He swallowed. You wiped a few tears with your sleeve.

“I’m a traitor according to the law…” you pointed out.

“It wasn’t your own decision…how can an innocent child know?! All the more reason…I will make sure the law doesn’t touch you. And anyone who says otherwise…I’ll take care of him. Exile at least sounds wise,” Hal pointed out.

He released your hands. You folded them in front of you, eyes dipping to the stone floor beneath you.

“But Hal…I’m spoiled goods…”

He shook his head.

“No! Don’t you dare call that about yourself! There is nothing spoiled or damaged about you…”

He touched your chin and then pressed his forehead to yours.

“You’re a brave woman, Y/N…” he praised quietly.

“I’m not a soldier or a knight, I don’t fight with swords like you…” you denied.

“You just told The Prince of Wales a dark secret that in the wrong hands could have gotten you arrested or worse! And…when we are married, that blessed, blessed day…we will have to learn all about each other. What is good…and what is bad, what is secret, shameful. You gave me your weakness, your shame and…chose to confide in me…and Y/N…”

His own eyes began blinking with tears.

“It makes me even prouder that I’ll be your husband…”

You smiled, the tears starting to dry. You even held onto his arms. Then you began to shake, looking at him.

“Oh, my dear Hal…I was so terrified!” you confessed.

You broke again into sobs, sinking onto the floor. He went down and embraced you again, putting a light touch on your back and whispering assurances.

“It’s alright, you’re safe, my beautiful girl, you’ll always be safe with me…you’re safe, my lamb, you’re safe...”

You pulled away to wipe your tears. He again clutched your hands. His nostrils flared and his eyes steeled.

“I swear to you…I will never hurt or betray you. I will never force you into my bed or lay a hand on you when you do not want It or know of it. I will never take advantage of you as my wife to inflict my will on you…spurn me from your bed, tell me no, lie that you are sick- strike me hard and scream, even! And I will go away…” he promised.

You began to blink.

“But…you’re the-“

“Yet here when you are with me, I am your servant, Y/N! Make me your servant and I will be content.”

He reached down to kiss your hand, just as he did when you agreed to marry him. He looked back up at you. He then cupped your cheek.

“My poor, brave lady…where your family once spurned and hurt you, here- in my family, you will be the most loved. Where once you were the most ignored, here the most listened to. And once the most hurt, here the safest and respected of all.”

You cupped his face, smooth and cold. Sweetly, you gave him a small kiss on his lips and the last embrace after.

“Hal…thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He led you to stand up. You cleared up what tears you had left and smoothed your gown.

“I have this meeting for another hour. I’ll ask the servants to bring you a drink…you could live here in the palace with us from now on if you would like. I’m sure as long as we’re in separate rooms until the wedding, your family and mine would approve.”

You nodded.

“Yes, I would.”

“My father adores you. He will be thrilled.”

He took your hand again and then began to walk you to the door.

“You must dine with me and my brothers tonight. They’ll make you smile. And I must tell you- my father and brothers plan on playing their little game of dice and this later afternoon. Usually, I’d be away but today…we both will join them. Though I must warn you- my brother, John, is far too good at it and wins every time. I’ll ask him to go easy on you.”

You smiled.

“I would love that,” you said.

“I must finish this meeting, but I will make sure there is always a guard by you and a servant to bring you anything you could want from the kitchen…”

He led you out. Thankfully, no snooping lord was at the door minus the guarding knights. Those lords were chatting among themselves in that large stone hallway.

“I shall look forward to it, my lord” you answered demurely, aware that you were now not alone.

He gestured for a knight to step by.

“Stay by the lady. Attend to her today. And bring one of the castle maids to fetch a cup of sack for her today…see she is not left alone until I am with her in an hours’ time.”

He turned to you.

“When I return, would you like to visit the gardens, my lady?” he offered.

“I would, my lord. I will see you then,” you said.

You exchanged polite bows and curtsies as goodbye.

Gesturing the lords to return, Hal vanished behind the doors with the other lords. But little did they know that beneath the chair, their prince had his hands curled into fists.

“One more thing gentleman, I must know of the address of a certain gentleman…” The Prince announced.

“How come?” asked one.

“He hasn’t paid his taxes” the Hal lied.

When the worries of the crown got too much to him, the King could not sleep. That night was no different. He paced about the hall, his footsteps echoing the halls away from the peaceful lute music. Letting out a sigh, he decided the best way to pass the time of night and to get his mind off, was to begin to pick and prepare for the room where you, his dear future daughter-in-law would be staying. It would be a pleasant change perhaps. Since Hal suggested it at dinner with approval, he might as well begin the work. He arose a few servants to pick a place, have blankets cleaned, and to pick a rug perhaps you would like.

He didn’t notice his rebellious son sneak out of the castle, cloaked and armed with a dagger, and march into the stables. The white stallion was his usual favorite, but the prince Hal chose the black horse. That would not stick out in the night. He wanted no warning.

He galloped straight there. His high status permitting a smooth ride with no stops from any guards.

Hal arrived right at the address he knew of. Keeping the cloak over his face, he knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” a female voice asked from inside.

“Stay there, I shall see to them…” a male voice replied near her.

The door opened and the man inside- the cousin Y/N spoke of- looked up to see the cloaked figure.

“Who goes there at this late hour at night? Are you a messenger?” he asked.

“Step outside. Close the door.”

The cousin did.

“What do you want, eh?” he asked, head tilting.

Two hands reached from the cloak and pulled down the hood. It was the red, fuming face of England’s Prince, Lord, and Sovereign.

The Cousin’s jaw dropped. He backed a step, arms in front of him to keep from falling.

“Why- it’s…your grace!”

As he stepped back one foot to attempt to bow, it was interrupted as The Prince’s fist reached forward, grabbing his collar and the other went over his mouth.

Hal dragged the Cousin to the shadow of the house, pinned him to the wall, and punched him right in the face. He let out an “AHH!”

“Did you assault her grace, The Princess of Wales?”

“She…she isn’t married yet…she’s not a princess…” The Cousin replied.

Hal slammed him against the wall with his fists, he then curled him closer to his face.

“She is to me and now tell me!”

The cousin’s face turned white except for the blood from his lip.

“You forced the young Princess of Wales- my wife- to unspeakable acts reserved between man and wife- did you not?” Hal asked.

Blubbering, the man trembled out a weak “…yes…but I was a youth!”

“You were old enough to know better!” Hal retorted.

“I’ve repented-“

It was interrupted by another punch to his ear.

“Do not speak of your repentance as you walk about guiltless!”

Hal caught his breath. He should kill the man as he stood, perhaps. But not without great consequences for himself. Perhaps he could deal with some angry in-laws, but if the Chief Justice could throw him in prison once, perhaps he would do it again.

He didn’t think if he saw this man again that he could restrain himself as much as here.

“From now on, you are not allowed in this kingdom. And if you are ever seen within ten feet of her person, I will order you to be executed on the spot…” Hal threatened.

“Jesu, beheaded!?” the cousin cried.

“No- noblemen are beheaded. You deserve to be shot at with my arrows and have them dragged across your stomach until your intestines spill about!” Hal raged.

The Cousin began to shake.

“Gather your things and flee before I lose what mercy I have in my heart. This is your Prince’s command- do you understand!” he barked.

“Yes!”

The prince threw him into the mud. He then placed a boot onto the cousin’s chest and spoke from above like an avenging male fury.

“I will see you tomorrow at this hour and see if it is done, and if not…”

He opened his cloak to flash the dagger.

“I will slit your throat. I will tell other thieves did it…” he hissed.

The cousin nodded.

“I will report this!”

“And then I’ll tell your wife what you did!” Hal argued.

The Cousin let out a gasp, his air making fog into the coldness of that wintry air of the night.

“Now leave- I never wish to see your disgusting face again!” Hal spat, removing his boot.

The cousin scrambled back into the house. The prince returned to his horse and rode back home.

That morning, you returned with a few royal servants and your family to bring some of your possessions. There was already word that a room for you was ready and that it was time already.

“It’s here, I have been told” a knight explained as he escorted you through.

As you were allowed into the room, you noticed two sights- one was Prince Hal with some wildflowers. The second was more extraordinary. Hal’s father, King Henry, was curled up asleep on the bed, in a fetal position. His gray robes around him. Your jaw dropped.

“My lord, wha-“

He raised a finger to his lips.

“He hasn’t slept this well in ages…let him…”

He gently led everyone out.

He greeted you by kneeling down and pecking your hand politely. A gesture usually reserved for servants to royalty, but the most powerful young man in the country reserved it for you.

“My lord, your skin beneath your eyes seems dark…have you not been sleeping well too? Were you up late as your father?” you asked.

He shrugged it off and grinned.

“I had some business to take care of. But my lady, here- a gift for you. I ask you to accept it!”

He handed you the flowers. With a little gasp, you accepted, bringing them to your nose for their fresh scent.

“They’re lovely, thank you dearly, my lord!” you cooed.

“Anything for my darling lady.”

#carrie writes #angst #angst with a happy ending #happy ending #fanfiction #Shakespeare #prince Hal #prince hal x you #prince hal x fem! y/n #prince hal x y/n #prince hal x fem! reader #prince hal my beloved #prince hal x reader #the hollow crown #Shakespeare fanfiction #the hollow crown fanfiction #the hollow crown henry iv #the hollow crown Henry iv part 1 #the hollow crown Henry iv part 2 #the Henriad #Henry iv #henry iv part 2 #henry iv part 1 #henry v #the hollow crown henry v #Tom Hiddleston

[smolvenger]

The Twelve Days Chapter Seven (Henry V x Fem! Reader Series)

Chapter Word Count: 9K

Series Summary: Your family betrothed you to known rake Prince Hal now newly reformed and crowned as King Henry V of England. As December ends and January begins, you must face your first Twelve Days of Christmas Celebration not only as a new queen, but a new wife to a man you are just beginning to know and bed.

Previous Parts: One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six

Warnings: 18+. SMUT Y'ALL!!! Oral (fem receiving), edging, doing it on the floor, P in V sex. I am still getting used to writing smut so be nice but constructive, please. Mentions of drinking and domestic abuse (which our boy, Henry/Hal is not and never does at any point in the fic) and lots of teasing. Sexual tension thicker than Hal's ass in those leather pants. Attempts at historic accuracy and Shakespearean cursing. This is likely the penultimate chapter!

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The Evening of the Twelfth Day

You stood before the mirror in your dress as a lady in waiting sealed the clasps. It was stunningly beautiful. It was a deep color you loved with long sleeves that floated down. There were jewels encrusted around the neckline of the bodice as well as for the belt that was placed around your waist as a jeweled necklace was clasped around your neck. With the smallest light, there you would still glimmer just a little like a stubborn star. Even Gwaine stood still in his spot on the bed to bink slowly in admiration at it.

One lady in waiting took a hand mirror that she was going to set down after she was done with fixing your hair as you like. As the setting sun was shining from the window, the lady saw that the hand mirror made a small light shimmer on the floor from the sun’s reflection. Little Gwaine got up from crouching and ran out, he jumped after it, pupils enlarged. She made the light jump to a different spot. He crouched, wiggling his bottom, and then leaped to catch the little light. All of you laughed and took turns playing with the mirror in the light as he dashed about, attempting to run after it and catch it with his little paws.

Until there was a knock on the door. Though a little part of you was disappointed when your mother appeared. She did smile when noting your appearance in the jewels and clothes of the Royal Family.

“Ladies, may you leave us for only a few minutes? I’d like to speak to my daughter,” she asked.

The ladies bowed their heads and left. Once alone, she went up to you and hugged you.

“What, what is it, mother?” you asked.

“I’m so sorry…and your father is too…” she began.

“Sorry for what?” you questioned, squinting your eyes and releasing the hug, but clasping hands with her.

Both of you sat down on the bed.

“We should have thought more about your own happiness than the standing of our family…we threw you off to the King without thinking of what you would think, how you would feel…” she elaborated.

“Oh, mother…I…I thank you…I was so terrified but I tried not to show it. I knew how much this meant for all of us for me to marry him. He was the best bachelor any woman could ask for and you handed me to him. I didn’t say anything bad because I…I…I didn’t want to disappoint you, to disappoint any of our family…” you recalled.

She sniffed, starting to tear up a little.

“You dressed like a bride at the wedding, but your face looked like your head was about to be chopped off and I saw how your hands wouldn’t stop shaking…I don’t remember seeing you smile once that day. I…I’m so sorry…I realized then and only then when it was too late to call off the marriage. I felt so sorry for you… and angry at myself back then…”

“Mama…I forgive you…” you said.

She smiled and wiped off a tear with her hand.

“Would you like to know a secret, Y/N?”

You nodded, swallowing.

“I never told your father about this- I sent spies to Eastcheap after the wedding. I told them to find the past lovers of Prince Hal, my dear. I had them ask the women if the Prince was known to beat his tavern women or if he was cruel to them in any way and…and…they reported back that he treated all of them well. So I thought…it could be far worse…but then, there was always the risk…if he changed his usual ways with women…if somehow he hurt you after you married him, I would have never forgiven myself. I should have told you of this…sooner but I worried a letter would be intercepted. ”

She smoothed her skirts, another tear welling in her eyes.

“Then I heard what he said to you at the garden and I began to hope…to hope that…that maybe they were right and that he didn’t just pay the tavern women to lie about to him…”

“It’s alright, mama, you made amends and did what you could and…and thank you, that’s good to know. He’s….he’s not a monster at all, mama! You don’t have to worry about it at all!” you assured her.

Both of you hugged with happy tears. Then she gasped to see Gwaine rubbing his fur at bottom of her skirts and purring loudly. You leaned down and picked up the kitten.

“This is Sir Gwaine. He was a gift to me from the King. Why? Because Henry wanted to make me happy. The spies were right. Henry treats me well- he’s a good man!” you explained.

“What else?” she prodded.

“We’re running out of time- someday, I’ll write to you all about everything he’s done for me…” you said.

“Then I am glad for you.”

You both shared a last hug before the ladies returned.

“Your majesty…we all have to finish getting ready. The celebration will begin soon…” one lady reminded you.

On one of the pillows of your bed was your crown- golden and encrusted with Lancaster-red rubies. The tallest lady in waiting placed it on your head. You realized now that you were used to its weight, no longer nervous about if it would trip off your head at a wrong turn. You wondered if your skull could have a giant, ring-shaped dent where it lay. But no- you just realized it was a matter of acquired taste. It felt made to fit your head perfectly.

It was expected for you to arrive with the king at the celebration. You and the ladies exited your chambers and walked through halls, sometimes wooden and sometimes stone, to the entrance before the throne room. As you and the other ladies arrived right to the room that lead to the throne room, your heart skipped in your chest.

There he was, Henry. In his beautiful splendor- in his nicest red leather and crowned. You felt yourself smile when you saw the back of his curled head and when he turned, you saw his eyebrows shoot up.

“My lady, are you well?” he asked as you walked to be on his side.

“Yes, my lord,” you answered.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Are you?” you replied.

“As I can be,” he answered with a shrug.

He then turned around, putting up a hand to signal the others.

“Let us wait a moment before we start,” he directed.

Henry turned to you. From the pocket of his pants, he pulled out a pink silk ribbon that could only be your garter from this morning.

“My lady, you’re missing something…have you replaced it?” he asked, eyes shining.

“No, I haven’t…” you replied, biting your lips as they curved up to grin coyly.

You wondered if this would happen if you didn’t replace your garter- and now you were proven right. Your heart picked up speed even if everything was very still- no sound except the chatter of people on the other end of the doors.

“Then may I put it on you?” he offered.

You sucked in a deep breath and folded your hands, your voice trying to contain your delight.

“You may.”

Henry shot a look at the party behind both of you- the ladies in waiting, his attendants, and personal servants, and waved a hand at them. They all nodded and turned their eyes and heads away from the two of you. Henry leaned down before you on one knee, eyes up at you in reverence.

“Which leg?” he asked.

“The left one,” you answered quietly.

You lifted your skirt up. You were lucky that the stocking was well fitted, but it was slipping some without the support of the garter. You looked down at the top of his head as he took his hands- so large and yet so soft- as they pulled your stocking up. You heard his breath catch at that glimpse of your bare leg- something too often covered by shifts and skirts. Gently, so gently, he put a hand on your leg to keep the stocking from drooping. This time, your own nostrils were sucking in air at the feeling of his hand on you- on only a thin layer of cloth that separated his bare hand from your bare skin.

He then took the garter and looped it around. His hand brushed past your thigh. You even saw his mouth barely open and the pupils of his eyes were dilated wide, his face red as his jacket. He made a knot. Just enough to hold the stocking, but not so tight that it couldn’t be easily removed. He then ran a hand down- making sure there were no creases, and that the stocking was in place. Part of you shivered from his touch.

“There…that feels right,” you commented.

You heard him sigh through his nostrils as you lowered your skirt, hiding your leg. He looked up at you, still blushing. He returned back to standing on two legs, you noticed his chest having for want of breath.

“I’m glad of it,” said Henry,

Both of you had a moment to look at each other. You found his eyes down to your lips.

Part of you wished to cancel the feast, guests be damned, and quickly send the attendants away. Then you wanted Henry to grab you, place you right against the nearest wall, and kiss you intensely. You would gladly lift your skirts up and he lower his breeches, and you would open, accepting him, and cling your arms around as he began to enter you, and move his hips, slamming into you and…

This picture only lasted a second and you had to swallow it out, a bout of laughter from the Twelfth Night guests rousing from the outside. Henry squeezed his eyes shut and let out an exhale through his mouth. He opened his eyes and snapped his fingers. The attendants turned back.

“They’ve waited long enough. We must enter,” he announced to them.

He then stood, eyes forward, but raised his arm so it formed a shape like an L, the palm forward, offering it to you. You then, as gracefully as you could muster, slide your arm down so that your hand landed over his like a blanket.

The guards opened the door. The last day to enjoy ivy and holly everywhere. Gentle, orange candlelight made the room seem golden everywhere. There was the fanfare of trumpets beginning and the chatter halted. You found that you were able to keep up with Henry’s long strides with ease as a loud voice announced.

“Their majesties, The King and Queen of England.”

Heads bowed like grain in the wind when you both entered. You felt yourself grin in spite of it. They backed off like the Red Sea to make way for the two of you. That throne room, where once sat only Henry’s had a twin throne next to it. Like swans gliding on the water, you made your way to stand before it.

Henry then spoke, announcing to the crowd before you.

“I welcome and greet you all as friends tonight. Let us enjoy the last day of Christmas, the Feast of Epiphany, and the Arrival of the Wise Men together. May the Twelfth Night celebrations begin!”

Everyone clapped and cheered as he then sat down on the throne. People made their way to the tables to gape over the food. Not that you blamed them as you arched your neck to admire it. There was a whole set of chess made completely of Marzipan, as promised, and flavored with rosewater. You noticed your older brother reach for some little round sweets called confits before any of the main courses could be looked at and chew at them, then trying to discreetly spit out and get rid of the seed inside it. For a cold, snowy day it was a welcome scent to smell flowers and see plants everywhere.

The Twelfth Night cake in all its glory shone at the center of the far wall in a table for itself, a yard long and across, in preparation for this day. And perhaps enough so that everyone in London could share some. You took note- tomorrow you would have to visit the kitchens and ask if any leftover cake could be given to the beggars outside your gates. As you tried a slice of it, it was moist yet spices danced on your tongue.

Once you made your own way there, you marveled at the figurines of little knights - all completely out of sugar. There was more meat- beef, chicken, hams, eels, oysters, and more giant mince pies, like on Christmas. When you sat at your place at the table next to the King and began to sip at the goblet of wine given to you, you could taste how it was sweetened with honey. As you tried a bite of the gingerbread, you could taste cinnamon, cloves, and cardamom. It was a miracle your tongue did not explode from all the flavors.

Henry himself was enjoying slices of oranges and suckets after the meats. He was relaxed. Both of you smiled and took a small sip of your wine looking at each other. He’d gossip into your ear.

“Hmm, the Lord of Warwick’s already got a circle of ladies around him. He should make a decision on one of them already, he’s been a widower long enough. And the Earl of Sussex chose the ugliest doublet I have laid eyes on.”

“Perhaps, he should have listened to his wife for advice on how to dress,” you responded to him.

You covered your mouth to hide the indulgent smile as you drank your wine deeply. Henry’s lips tightened, swallowing the urge to smile as well.

Some lovely music started to accompany the graceful court dances. You watched and saw with gladness there was Micheal Williams, in the finest clothes he could access, and right next to him, touching his hand and stepping forward in rhythm, was your beloved little sister. He seemed able to keep up with the courtiers, and she was beaming.

Yet you turned to see John of Lancaster seated next to Henry. The second eldest Lancaster brother was frowning. His eyes were soft, looking at how your sister smiled at her dance partner only to give Williams a secret glare. He took a pitiful sip of wine, his hand dangling in midair as he put his elbow on the table, but not letting the cup go.

You then walked beside the prince and leaned over.

“Good evening, John.”

“Your majesty, most revered sister-in-law and queen,” he greeted with a bow.

“My sister looks quite beautiful tonight, does she not?” you asked.

“Yes indeed she does!” he admitted softly.

You smiled mischievously.

“She told me yesterday she was worried about there being no dance partners at court…so I have a command from your queen- dance with her, John.”

“What?” he cried, setting down his goblet on the table.

“Stop sulking and ask her to dance with you! She will be gone by tomorrow evening- you might as well dance with her.” you reasoned, hands on your hips.

He was wide-eyed. But surely this couldn’t be scarier than the battles the young man had fought in by now! He took in a deep breath. You leaned closer and whispered.

“I guarantee you- she’ll say yes,” you added on.

John gulped down the rest of his wine and nodded.

“Then yes, yes I will!”

The second the dance was over and Michael and your sister said their goodbyes, John was right there. You didn’t hear their words over the chatter, but you saw her smile and nod her head. You returned to your spot but didn’t sit back down.

“Can we dance, my lord?” you asked, turning to the king.

He smiled, “of course, my lady.”

As you leaned your hand to touch his, he gently held it and lifted it up. You picked up part of your skirt demurely as you both walked over to the dance floor and began a dance over the next song.

And you were the better dancer. Henry’s feet clucked a little at the steps and he got confused sometimes as to when one stepped left and when right. You smiled and bit your tongue to keep from laughing and Henry pouted stubbornly as he was determined to get it right. You hadn’t realized but he was staring at you so much that he accidentally knocked into another dancer. The terrified youth muttered twenty “sorry, your grace” apologies like a Hail Mary. And the song was almost at its end and Henry still wasn’t getting the steps right!

“Fie it all. Y/N- here! Let’s end it a different way!” he said as he turned to you.

Before you could protest he wrapped his arms around you and you intuitively placed your own arms around him. With a gasp, he lifted you up in the embrace. It was quite bold in its intimacy considering this was a public court event. But who was going to stop The King of England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales at that moment from doing it?

He lifted you up and then twirled you around, your skirt moving in the air from it. You couldn’t help but smile and cling closer to him and enjoy feeling like flying. And you heard Henry himself laugh over the ending chords of the music.

You both returned to your seats. A few actors from the lucky troupe invited to the palace prepared the stage for their morality play. Henry whispered your name and you turn to him.

“What is it?” you asked.

“You look beautiful tonight, my lady.”

You felt as if you had a fever from the warmth inside you.

“Thank you, my lord.”

As the play began, two performers swept on- one dressed in gold and one in silver, representing the goddesses Hera and Diana as they disagreed between them as to which was better- married love or chaste love, platonic sentiment or romantic fire. Henry continued to whisper so only you would hear.

“The crown fits you well. I might make a new law- you will wear the crown in my chambers….”

“Henry, that sounds-“

“You will wear only the crown in my chambers.”

It seemed if it came between chaste affection or passion, Henry picked a side.

Onstage, dancers dressed with horns mimicking deer began to prance beautifully around each other. But you felt yourself exhale deeper from his words, the bodice of your chest heaving. You could only glance up at him with a small smile and then return your eyes to your lap in chaste innocence as pretend as those actors were gods. As the performance continued, you crept a hand next to his to hold and he welcomed it. Fingers shielding all of your own. You could almost feel his pulse at his wrist in a steady rhythm.

Once it was at the end where the goddesses called an even truce, everyone applauded and you released your hand, feeling the cool air rather than the warmth of his skin.

“Now, we shall continue but the king shall retire and go to bed!” A courtier announced.

Henry stood up. He reached for your hand and kissed it.

“Good night, my lady.”

He then turned to the crowd.

“I bid you all a merry Twelfth Night and good night.”

They bowed as a farewell. You looked as your husband vanished through the doors. Women then pooled onto the floor, your sister you noticed among them. A lady in waiting went up to you.

“There is a special dance for the ladies when the king retires. Normally the queen would do it too-would you like to join it?” she asked.

“No thank you. I…I would like to retire myself,” you answered.

“Very well, good night, your grace,” she replied politely.

You walked forward through those doors. You did not need your ladies to interrupt their dancing to accompany you. You knew which door it was. This castle was your home now and you could navigate it with more ease each day. You walked through the small stone hallway leading to Henry’s bedchambers and before those giant doors. The two guards stood in front.

“May I enter?” you requested.

One guard bowed his head and opened the door.

Henry was sitting, his cheek resting on his hand, elbow propped on the arm of the chair, looking into the roaring fireplace when jumped at the sound of the door. He saw you, his eyes wide. The orange glow of the fire shone over the other chair and the new rug on that section of the floor. It padded your steps as you approached him, but you remained standing.

“If there wasn’t just a feast, I would ask you to dine with me,” he replied.

“Are you saying you’re unhappy I’m here?” you teased with a grin.

“No. Opposite in fact.”

You walked forward and he broke into a smile, greeting your name.

“Why aren’t you out with the other ladies?” he asked.

“I would rather be with you tonight,” you answered.

You took a step closer to him. And then you knelt down on the rug before the fire, taking his hand. He looked up at you with a softness over his handsome features, listening to your words.

“I’ve…I’ve missed you, Henry. I love my family, but this whole time, these past few days, and especially the nights I…”

He leaned closer and you to him. Your lips a breath away. Not quite a kiss. But almost.

“I’ve missed you. And…and I want you,” you added boldly.

You could almost feel the brush of his eyelashes as he leaned in closer. You placed a hand on his face and he yours.

“I missed you…and I want you too…” he voiced.

He leaned in closely, sealing the kiss. You felt as if your insides exploded from the softness of his lips. You felt the breaths out of his nostrils as you leaned in, furthering the kiss. You felt him smile. You both released your lips from each other. He leaned in and you backed away only an inch before his lips could touch any other part of you, though your hands remained standing. You released to chuckle a little, at his eagerness. The most powerful man on earth and he was at your mercy.

“My little wife, you tease me so,” he purred.

He then wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you from escaping. You kissed him again as you felt one of his hands begin to bunch up your skirts. Now you were at his mercy.

“You want me only wearing the crown in your chambers?” you recalled.

“We have all the time in the world to make that happen- I don’t think I have the patience now to watch you undress…” he husked.

Fluidly, he pulled you to the floor on the rug and you met him there. Any bit of him you could touch, you kissed- his cheek, his shoulder, and his neck- which elicited a moan from him. So close, so needy, so desperate- you both knew you couldn’t make it to the bed. You could feel yourself already dripping wet between your legs.

“I’d have you on every surface in this castle if I could…” he murmured.

You felt the warmth from your side and the glow from the flames. One side lit Henry’s face, he was kissing you more, but it was intenser- almost like a bite. His tongue entered your mouth like a cock as if your mouth was what lay between your legs. Your teeth clattered with his as his tongue pushed in. It took your breath how he reached his hands to grip your back, almost trapping you in a wall of his body- but you wanted it. You wanted to feel his weight on top of you. He held himself so not to crush you beneath him- but with a gentle press. He nestled again into your neck.

There was a ferocity, teeth- there would be marks where he kissed and bit. He smiled, eyes over the cleavage of your dress. It made little gasps to feel it. You felt him kiss the tops of it and as he moved to touch them, play with them, feeling them even over the dress. You placed your hands on his back, your nails digging into him, feeling its broadness and the muscles that made you wet for him.

“Mmph, you were a little vixen today, tempting me with your garter…” he muttered from your chest.

“No one’s around here now- punish me for it.”

“I’ll punish you- I’ll get rid of these-”

Henry’s hands moved to your necklace. The grip and strength you felt in his hands made you feel as if he could destroy the thing to pieces- rip it off and have the gems scattered across the floor before you. But he only undid it and flung it off to the side. You felt him at the front, undoing the clasps of your dress.

“Cruel dress, cruel skirts, cruel stockings...all hiding this beauty beneath them…” he mumbled as he undressed you from on top.

He removed and opened the bodice of your dress and then took off the skirt. It shuffled over your head like a colorful cloud over your face as he removed everything over your head and out of the way. You were in your shift and stockings. He then touched your legs, stroking as he raised one. He kissed your ankle and then a bit further down. He bit off the garter and then tossed it from his teeth to his hand like a beast, throwing it away.

“If only you saw how hard it made me whenever I touched it…this damned feast kept me from you..."

“Then feast on me,” you dared in reply.

He smiled in response. He then eagerly flicked off the other garter and rolled off the stocking with his hand. Then, his fingers parting the lips between your legs, he delved in between you with his tongue. You bucked, releasing a moan already. You felt his eager tongue tasting that little nub of yours. He was kissing at- the little rosebud, just like the roses in the marzipan. It hit the nerves as you writhed on the rug. Your body was his. And he was going to take care of it.

Stars filled your eyes. He tasted even deeper as his tongue licked each bit of you. Then he returned, focusing on the bud- a strong, fast rhythm, as the country dances rather than the court dances. You couldn’t help but whimper, relishing being under his power. You ground your hips against him. You could feel his smile as he sucked against your clit gently, slowing down. You could feel that sensation, rising in you- but you would need speed to get to that sweet point of le petit mort. “More…I want more…” you moaned softly. Your back was starting to arch, bearing out one breast from its bodice.

He suddenly stopped and removed his head. His arm wiped off your arousal on his face and you smelled your own earthy scent. Everything in you was pent like a bucket full of water- but now nothing to crack it out. You sat up on your elbows as he rose to his knees.

“Henry! You…you….you starveling!” you cursed in frustration, looking back at him.

He chuckled, eyes shining at your exposed breast.

“The delay will make it better, you will see…Do You want more, my pretty queen?” he offered, his hands down to his pants.

“Yes, please, I want you- and you and you need to bare yourself too” you insisted.

You made sure to undo each button of his red jacket. Nimbly, each one came off until he got to the usual black undershirt beneath, and you flung it off over his head. You licked your lips at his beautiful chest. He flung off his codpiece and took off his tight pants, his erection freed and dripping as you were in anticipation. You ran a hand to touch his wide, muscular, flushed chest h- warm, welcoming, and all for you. He was yours every bit as you were his.

“How do you feel about this shift?” he asked you, putting your hands on the cloth

“I honestly don’t care about this one,” you answered.

“I’ll buy you a new one then-” he answered.

He ripped your shift from the collar down in one smooth tear. You gasped, the cold air and fireplace warmth hitting your bare skin. He place your breast in his hand and kiss it roughly, then moved up so his tongue swirled the nipple- his kisses were the sweetest fire.

“I…I…please, your…your…” you kept begging as you felt his mouth on your chest, yet your own soaking pussy screamed for returned attention.

Henry smiled again, his mouth over your breast to where you felt his breath full of the spices of the feast.

“Louder, darling….I want you loud tonight. I want to have you screaming so all of England knows how I satisfy you,” he ordered.

“Pease?” you responded in a clearer voice that echoed from the walls.

Immediately, he positioned himself sheathed inside you, eliciting a moan from you. Your walls embraced him. A most welcome intrusion.

“Henry- more, more, more. Harder, please,” you pleaded.

“As my queen commands,” he said.

He then grabbed your own hips and adjusted them, he took each of your legs until it was higher and he got it. He trusted again and got a deep spot- completely filling you- he removed you, then empty. Then he crashed his hips immediately in. Before you could take a breath, he slammed into you again, again, and again. Zounds, he was deep. And he was grunting, groaning like an animal, his curls falling before his face. He kept repeating your name in a whisper as he pounded into you, so fast you gasped for air. You had more moans come out of you, moans you.

“Be loud, be loud…I, uhmpf, I, I, -ugh- want to hear your echoes,” he grunted as he kept thrusting.

“Wh-What, I-“ you dazedly said.

He did another quick slam with a grunt interrupting you.

“OH!” you yelped.

It was the fastest he went, and he was moaning himself, cursing, trying to hold off though you felt barely a tremor as he pushed his cock deep in your walls.

“Cry-Cry-Cry out, wife!” he ordered in his own pleasure intoxicating him like ale.

Your hand had to grasp the leg of the chair to steady this wildness, fast, powerful thrusts- the intensity, the fucking you craved for finally given to you.

“Henry, I- Henry- Oh- YES! YES! THERE- GOD! HENRY- HAL-HENRY- I” you began to yell, rising up to screams as you felt yourself go up.

He began going rougher. This was it. The great pleasure you had craved eagerly for days. The lungs in your body were gasping, wanting the air that was knocked out of you with each, the chair moving in your hand only a little to keep up with the power of his movements. Your hand removed to flail to hold onto anything for support

He was practically slamming you on the rug again and again. He then had one hand to hold your wrists above your head, keeping you still so there for the support, no place but this deepness, this intensity. His grunts are animalistic in your ear and the repetitions of your name get huskier and even stop mid-syllable from the feel of how you clenched around him each time.

His other hand then slipped down catching your bud and playing it, matching speed with his thrusts going so fast that you felt as if you would die. All while continuing to violently slam into you. His own voice caught in his throat, the pitch slightly higher, he was getting there himself.

Then, he sped it up more, and your own body shook more, breasts bouncing with each thrust of his. This was ravishment, this was passion. You felt as if your clit would fly out and each bit of your pussy. It would break into pieces. But what sweet, sweet brokenness it was. He was getting louder too but you were practically screaming in his ear.

“I can’t- I’m goingto-I’m going to- Imgoing to I can’t-I can’t Ican’Ican’tIcan’tIcan’tIcan’tIcan’t I CAN’T! H-H-HAL! Henry- Henry- HenryHenryHenry I-“

And he was matching you, one last command.

“Come, darling- come with me, come with me, comewithmeCOMEWITHMECOME-”

It broke you like a punch. The shattering was so intense your vision went black, and you screamed out a last “HENRY!!” to echo across the tall stone walls. That was all he could take. With a last loud “AH!” from him you felt his release spill into you.

Tears had poured out of your eyes. You became dizzy and you could feel your own sex spinning and your legs pulsating from how hard you came. His cock was twitching inside you. You laid a hand behind his head in his hair and felt him almost crash over you, his arms letting go of his weight. He was sweating profusely and a hand of his reached behind your back and kept you close.

Both of you panted as you shook and then your climax began to drift down. Henry then raised his head, so his eyes met yours. You swept his blonde curls to be out of his face. Part of you even felt a laugh from the release and he let out a small one too. His seed poured inside you, mixed with your own climax that released between your own legs. A recipe invented by the court to cook a royal heir. And one where if this wasn't successful, it would be cooked again, again, and again.

“If I knew this would happen, I would have married and bedded you the minute I laid eyes on you-,” Henry confessed.

“Could we move there?” you asked with a laugh.

The seed eventually stopped from his cock. He adjusted his hips and pulled himself out. He took note to ask the servants to clean the rug tomorrow morning. Neither of you bothered redressing an inch, especially as your shift was in tatters. You walked limply into his bed and settled amongst the sheets and blankets. He was on the other side. You dangled a hand above your head on the pillow, staring upwards to the bed set in your state of sweet, sweet release at last.

Henry rolled onto his back, his eyes dating about and chest heaving, still recovering from his own little death. He then looked back at you. He was no longer dark, pent-up, and lustful. The King of England, Henry the Fifth, looked, oddly enough, shy.

“Y/N could you…could you hold me?” he asked sweetly.

“Yes, of course,” you answered.

You pulled him to rest his head on your chest. You wrapped an arm around him and the other on his head as he huddled close. Music was playing in the hall floating down. If it was from the feast or from the musicians known to accompany the king sometimes when he went to bed, you weren’t sure. If it was the latter and they waited as you both fucked on the rug… then however much they were paid was certainly not enough.

“Do you hear that? They’re playing that song! I know the tune but…I can’t remember the words…” Henry muttered, head perked up to listen.

“I know the words, Henry, you silly goose” you replied.

You shushed him and laid his head back on your chest. You heard him sigh with a grin. You combed one of your hands through his curls as you softly sang- a post-coital lullaby to a lover rather than a child:

“When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain, it raineth every day...”

Verse by verse, you softly sang to the king, your husband, your lover. Then the music melted back into silence, save the crackling fireplace.

“Y/N…I have a question,” Henry voiced from below.

He removed his head from your chest on the pillow. His eyes were wide and like blue goblets.

“What is it?” you asked, turning your head to him.

He placed his hands across his stomach and was twiddling his thumbs, glancing down at them.

“Do you…like me, Y/N?” he asked.

You let out a laugh.

“You were thrusting inside me as I was screaming your name moments ago,” you replied.

“Yes, but…do you like me?” he repeated.

You nestled your head to turn to him. You looked him in the eyes as his own shot up back at you.

“Yes, Henry, I do like you.” You answered.

He began to twiddle his thumbs again, eyes returning down. You saw him blush again.

“Y/N I…I…I, uhm…this is…this is hard to say but…I know neither of us chose this, I know you didn’t choose me but…but…”

All those speeches and commands of his yet the words could barely form out of his mouth. You then looked at him, taking his hand and resting yours on it, fingers reaching between.

“Y/N, I’m not a perfect man. My father had every reason to be angry with me. Sometimes I think the sun wouldn’t consider even burning my face in scorn. I get bad ideas. Sometimes I say the wrong things and I’m proud and I act without a thought but…but Y/N…”

He swallowed, glancing down, and then up with pleading eyes.

“With some time…and a little patience… do you think you could love me?”

You gave him a kiss on the cheek and then smiled, still holding hands on that safe, soft, warm bed.

“Aye, Henry, I could…”

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[smolvenger]

The Twelve Days Chapter Five (Henry V x Fem! reader miniseries)

Summary: Your family betrothed you to the notorious Prince Hal- now newly crowned as King Henry V. As December ends and January begins, you must face your first Twelve Days of Christmas celebration not only as a Queen but as a wife to a man you are only beginning to know and bed.

Previous Parts: One//Two//Three//Four

Chapter Word Count: 4K

Warnings: Mentions of sex, pregnancy, childbirth, and the fear of cheating are discussed. (Henry/Hal NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER cheats on Reader at any point in the fic bc he's a good guy), Y/N is a jealous and angry girlie and gets a moment of Female Rage(TM). Some angst but then some hurt/comfort and then a very fluffy ending. References to the original text of Henry V, specifically the last scene in Act V. Attempts at historical accuracy and Shakespearean cursing.

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The Ninth Day

According to Sumptuary laws, you were the only person in England allowed to wear purple or gold. You hoped the silk dress, adorned in your favorite of the two colors, would make you look more official. You wanted to step in more at today’s court session. Henry used to tell you that you were a queen now, it was time to step into the power of that position. You only hoped you were ready for it and would make the right choices. If not, you could at least advise Henry on anything just from being a silent observer. Just as the neck turned the head, you could turn the king of England for anything if you tried. Perhaps. He had even arranged for a chair by his throne so you did not have to stay standing for hours.

“We thank our allies in Spain for their generous gifts for New Year's, forgiving any lateness,” Henry announced.

The Spanish ambassador dipped his head and then stepped out. Then another courtier, the Earl of Westmoreland, stepped forward.

“My king,” he greeted with a bow.

“And what does Westmoreland have for our person?” Henry asked.

“We have heard of the consummation of the royal marriage-“

Embarrassment shot through your being for such private matters (concerning your body as well!) to be publicly discussed with every person in court. It was an uncomfortable truth though- your sole purpose of being brought here, the one and only crucial job you had to do was to give the king a legitimate son to carry on his family’s reign on the throne. And there was only one act that, unless you were the Holy Virgin Herself, would guarantee that would happen.

You shot your eyes down to your hands folded on your lap, your ears feeling hot. The Earl of Westmoreland continued.

“We are grateful that her grace has done her duty to the crown and we must make preparations for the pregnancy…”

You looked at Henry and he at you. His cheeks were a bit pink with embarrassment yet his face remained calm, if not a flash of a wicked, Prince Hal-like smile.

“It’s too soon to tell, according to the physicians. But…”

Your husband turned to you.

“If she should think she is with child, she shall contact the physician and inform us, yes?”

“Yes, I shall,” you replied.

The Earl of Westmoreland nodded and then brought forth a scroll of parchment that he opened up.

“Wonderful! Once she is pregnant, we will have the best physicians. Though already it is advised that for the sake of the child, once she is pregnant, you shall lie in separate beds and do not perform your marital duties to each other.”

You questioned if that was true. Part of you sighed on the inside. The joys of the marriage bed were something you were just discovering. That you could feel such mad desire for your husband’s body and go through the process of intimacy until you found that addictive state of ecstasy would be something to be missed. Henry himself, if you had to be blunt with your feelings, was a skilled lover...

Lover. You turned to look at him in that thought in your head. Lover- the first part of that word- love. Already, was it too soon? Was it his kindness? Was it bedding him? Perhaps, perhaps by now, you felt that maybe-yes….you were starting to fall in lo-

“And the king shall take a mistress once the queen is pregnant!” Westmoreland announced.

Your head bolted forward to him. The word rang in your head yet you felt you were underwater.

“Excuse me…what did you say?” you asked.

“I said, his highness, the king, shall take a misteress once the queen is pregnant. That way, he shall have someone to satisfy him until after the child is delivered. We must make sure, after all, the king is happy enough to rule wisely… the needs of the king come first!”

Needs?!?! You thought.

You froze. You felt as if you were kicked in the stomach by a mule. Your hands clenched and tightened where they lay. Your jaw hung in mid-air.

Months ago, you admitted that kings kept mistresses. It was natural. Your place would be the wife only for the purpose of risking your life to deliver a healthy male heir and he would choose to fool around with whoever he wanted. At first, before your wedding, you regarded this thought with mere annoyed acceptance.

Now it was different. It felt even worse than when you tried to overhear Henry talking with your ladies. You kept still, feeling your shoulders creep up. Knowing that after all this was for the king- not you.

You looked over at Henry. Honestly, You dreaded seeing the lascivious smile of a man who could take what he wanted and enjoy it all without consequence. But he was frozen. His mouth was in a somber frown and his jaw seemed tight. His face was stone and his oceanic eyes were the size of tennis balls. You couldn’t guess what he was feeling or thinking. Then his eyes looked towards you. In the ducts of your eyes, there were quiet tears.

"Written here is a list of women we consider would make most wonderful misteresses for the king..."

Could you be Queen Y/N the Kind-Hearted at this? Could you smile and say it was fine? That you cared more for your husband than for yourself- glad he was at least happy? Could you swallow back your heartbreak, your envy, your anger? Many queens had. Many queens did. But why…why did this have to be?

The Earl would not shut up.

“We have several options of mistresses for you, your highness- We shall have you meet with them soon enough. And if her beauty pleases you, my lord, then we can select one to be ready when the time comes Some husbands have offered their wives to you, even, in order to gain your favor in return.”

The image, the picture of Henry…and a mistress. Henry, who made a sacred covenant to be your husband. To have and hold until only death did you part, for richer, poorer, sickness, health. After he refused to have the court eyewitness the wedding night and refused to force himself on you. To allow your wish to assist in charity to the common folk on Christmas day. After he gave you a little flower, as well as the very necklace you were wearing right now and the companionship of a kitten to keep you company in your lonely hours after you confided a personal anecdote of a family pet you missed from home. To have him bring your family here for the Twelfth Night so you could see them. Who didn't consider you as his plaything, but as...as a person. To how he cared as much for your pleasure as he did for his and despite voicing how badly he desired you... yet controlled himself until you said yes to him…

Was all of that for nothing?

You could almost already see her- more beautiful than you could ever hope to be. Someone better, with all the qualities you lacked times ten and with hardly a flaw. The image of this perfect, flawless, desirable woman grabbing your husband’s face and kissing him- as you lay in your rooms with a child in your stomach fearing that you or your baby would die in this process and the immense pain of bringing this child forth! You again pictured her grabbing your husband- your husband’s!- shirt to kiss him deeper, undoing his pants, lifting her skirt with a smile as you... and all as you lay in a quiet dark room, bleeding, dying slowly and painfully and alone....and in another place would be this lady with your husband kissing him and removing his clothes and hers and…and…and…

You had had enough. You could not let this happen. You could not smile and care only for his happiness and not your own. That because he was a man with a cock his own "needs" trumped your well-being and peace of mind. No, no, you could not take this. Not one bit. You couldn’t just stand there and let this happen anymore.

You stood up at once. Taking in a shaky breath, fighting back the urge to scream or cry in front of everyone, you held your arms. You spoke with authority, biting back the urge to yell, and glared directly into the eyes of Westmoreland.

“Sir, I must tell you…this shall not be so!” you commanded.

Eyes turned on you. You folded your arms in front of you to ground yourself. There was a point in your anger that you hit a silence, the quiet center of a storm. You had the power to punish this man and by God, you were going to use it.

You stared down at him with every bit of contempt you could fathom.

“What, your majesty! I-“ he babbled.

“How dare you even suggest such a thing, and in my presence no less!” you replied down at him. You made sure your features were still cool, yet firm.

“You must understand, that..."

You brushed him off with your hand as you walked forward.

“Oh, I understand completely what you just said. But listen to your queen- I will not tolerate this.”

You took a moment, and turned around to the rest of the court, raising your voice enough that each would hear you. You were glad that your dress was long enough that it hid your shaking legs, despite the volume of your voice.

“ From now on, listen to my declaration…if you or any other makes such an offer, man or woman- if I as much as hear of one lady being offered to the royal bed- whoever offered her and she herself as well will be sent to the tower…”

Your eyes turned to meet Westmoreland.

“If I must drag you both there myself by your hair.”

He dropped the scroll and scrambled to get it up. Once you both locked eyes again, you let yourself a small smile at the gruesome image you started to describe.

“Then, the day you are found guilty of this, you will both face execution by fire- not hanging, not beheading- the fire. Slowly. Painfully. Until each flame burns every bit of your flesh to the bone. And I will be there to watch it.”

You took a deep breath. Westmoreland’s hands dropped to his side, letting the scroll crash on the floor again, and there was a slight shake at his knees.

Good, you thought.

“And that goes for any and all involved in the idea of a mistress…is that clear?!?” you announced.

“But if his highness, the king, has needs as a..a... a man…” he began to protest.

“I shall tell you, he already has a mistress-me!" you argued.

You took another breath in. Then you stepped forward, quietly speaking with as much power and as much venom as you could muster.

“I will not tolerate even the idea of a misteress on pain of death. Do you hear your queen? Do you respect her word, or would you like to be the first to experience the consequence of displeasing me? Would you enjoy dying by fire? Is that clear?”

He looked up at you and then nodded frantically.

“Yes, your majesty!”

“I can be merciful. Beg for forgiveness from me, and you will have it. But you nor any other person will ever attempt to make this offer again as long as my husband and I both live- do you understand!” you said.

“Yes, please!” he cried.

“Fall on your knees and beg!” you hissed softly, pointing to the ground.

He then fell on his knees and put both hands on the floor, muttering, mumbling, and begging for forgiveness. You walked a step closer. You gestured for him to raise his head. Then you picked up the scroll. Despite curiosity, you would not look at the list of names of possible women to soil your marriage bed- and threw it at Westmoreland. He caught it, but remained speechless.

“Then…then I spare your life. Go and never speak of this again.”

Henry quietly walked forward and placed a hand on your shoulder. You jumped a little at the touch and then looked up at him. You set a glare in his eyes, despite his tall height, despite the crown on his head, there was one on yours too. He then spoke.

“I will confirm my wife’s wishes and we will adhere to them. I will not have a mistress during my reign. If I must be celibate when she is with child, so be it.”

You went back to sit on the chair. Your pulse was racing as if you managed to successfully escape a bear, and yet part of you was upright like the creature would roar and attack you again at any minute.

“Then…let us continue with the court,” you suggested.

Your mind could not rid of that picture of Henry with a mistress. You didn't speak a word for the rest of that meeting. You weren't even paying the least bit of attention. Once the court was dismissed, Henry turned to you. He opened his mouth to speak quietly.

“I…”

“I need some time alone…” you interrupted, turning your head away and waving him off with your hand.

You picked up your skirts and walked forward quickly, not looking back or left or right, a few ladies in waiting sprinting to keep up with you. Your pulse was racing. Only a few tears full down the ducts of your eyes yet you kept your own gaze forward until you finally reached your private quarters. Once you were inside, there were a few ladies in waiting to enjoy listening to one play the harp as they were organizing your correspondence.

“Your highness!” one greeted.

They all dipped into a bow. You folded your hands and looked down at them. It would not be fair to yell at them, to take out your anger on innocent women who were not present at what happened- and at what almost happened.

“How fares your grace? Shall we walk in the gardens next?” another asked.

You shook your head. Now the tears were starting to fall.

“I ask that you all leave me alone for the next hour and a half. You are not allowed in until then. And inform the guards that no one- I repeat no one- is allowed in until then!”

“Your grace? What is it…what ails her majesty? Are there tears?” one asked.

Your face crumbled as you nodded your head. You wiped one off with your hand as you raised your voice to be official.

“This is not a request- your queen orders you all to leave!”

They scattered out like rabbits. Finally, alone, you threw yourself on the bed like you did as an adolescent and began to sob. Finally, letting out those tears, that vulnerability, getting over it- yet…your body felt as if it happened, yet nothing did yet…Your own mind was spinning as you let yourself cry, grateful for the privacy. Since being queen, were you ever completely alone for an hour? You couldn’t even recall.

Sir Gwaine hopped from his spot on the window. You heard the shuffle as he leaped onto the bed and the weight of his little paws making their way and then poking at you. He meowed sweetly, giving you a touch of his little, pink nose. You held him and he purred in response. You kissed him and cuddled him. Animals were indeed far superior to men, you thought. You let yourself cry some more- ugly, gaping, hiccupping sobs.

You gave him a kiss on the head as you let him go and continued, curling in a ball on the bed and letting out as much crying as you could. Sir Gwaine stayed by, still standing. Then he stretched and his eyes went to a corner. He let a certain, loud, and bright “meow! Meow!”

Tis odd, you thought. He only meows like that when there’s someone walking into the room…unless...

God’s blood, no.

Your head turned around and in surprise, you saw Henry. He wasn't wearing his crown and his hands were in front of him, reaching as if to touch you.

“Y/N…”

You shot to sit up, still feeling the tearstains on your face.

“How did you get in here?!” you asked angrily.

“The guards refused to let me in, but I know all the rooms and passages to crawl through! I can’t tell you how many times I crept out and away from my father’s eye…” he explained.

He took a step forward.

“Y/N, I-“

Still in that anger, you removed your shoe and flung it towards his head. Despite his tall height, Henry ducked out of the way of the shoe.

“IF you-“

You flung the other shoe at his face.

“-Ever- “

You threw a pillow at him. He began to back off.

“-Have-”

The next pillow. It landed on his face.

“-a mistress- “

Another pillow.

“-I will- “

The next pillow came at him, which he dodged.

“-Kill you-“

Then the next one. Another dodge.

“-BOTH!”

Sir Gwaine fled to hide beneath the bed. You stood up from the bed and your arm reached to get another only to realize those were the only pillows. Henry, seeing you were unarmed for the second, darted up to you and grabbed your arms, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“Y/N- I won’t! Didn't you hear me back there?!? I won’t ever have a mistress!” he cried back.

There was a pause. From the concerned eyes and lowered jaw, brows lowered to where they crinkled his lids, he…he…he seemed…earnest. It was too good to be true.

You began to cry again. Again, that aftershock of hearing that announcement and at the same time, the emotion flooding you of it not happening. Of avoiding it, when it had been so close! His grip on your arms softened. You flung your arms around his neck- but not to strangle him- to embrace him. You dipped your face to his chest and let yourself cry into it and he held you for a bit and let you, a hand touching your back. Then he managed to scoop you into his arms- one under your legs and the other on your back, lifting you up. You paused from the crying, feeling his strength, the air beneath your feet as if you weighed nothing and were floating in midair. He carried you to the bed and placed you on there as he joined you to hold you tight. You curled up on his chest, he kept rubbing your back.

“You fear…you fear my infidelity, don't you?” he whispered.

You sniffled, feeling your nose run from all the sobbing. Like a child, you wiped it with your sleeve, even if it was the nice, silken one. Then you looked into his eyes again, they seemed dim despite their piercing blue color.

“Yes, Hal, yes- I do! I was just terrified…that there was some lady who was better, more beautiful, someone who had everything I lacked that I…that I…that I wasn’t good enough for you…” you vented.

You hitched your breath. A thought chilled you and made your stomach watery with realization.

“Has…has there been…been another woman in your bed since…since…” you questioned.

“No, not since we were betrothed!”

There was a pause. He looked down at you, shifting you so your heads lay on the pillows- forcing you to look each other in the eye. He clutched both of your hands.

“ Y/N, there hasn’t been any other woman. And there won’t be any other woman. I wouldn’t want to break your heart. Nor risk your wrath either…”

He let out a smile and one of his half laughs that were so genuine, so human, so…so Henry…

“I think you made every person in court say their prayers! I’m even proud of you! You were a true queen, today!”

You took in a deep inhale and you let yourself smile. He traced the edge of your cheek gently.

“There are many maidens in our kingdom, but I swear I only kept my eyes on you. May I confide something to you, Y/N?”

You nodded.

“I never was good at talking to women anyway. Much less wooing them. You know I’m a terrible dancer and for the life of me, I cannot think of pretty, flowery verses. If we courted before we were betrothed and you didn't know who I was, you'd think I was a farmer instead! I am a man of plain speaking…so I will be plain and by default, I’ll always be faithful to you.”

You smiled at the sentence. But then it dropped.

“Henry, you do understand that I could at least be exiled for treason if I am unfaithful to you…” you explained.

“I do…” he confirmed.

“So of course I never allowed any other man into my bed…there’s been none for me either…and I won’t.” you confessed.

You touched his face and he leaned into it.

“I’m glad…” he commented.

You sniffled and wiped off your own tears. The urge to cry had melted away.

“We made oaths before God and the law to each other…as well as the court. We might as well keep them,” he said.

“Yes, we will…” you muttered.

You noticed out the corner of your eye that Sir Gwaine returned from under the bed, tail low and nose forward. He let out another meow right as there was a knock on the door.

“Your grace…the hour and a half are done!” a lady announced from beyond the door.

Henry shot up. He turned to you.

“Shall you keep my secret about the passageways?” he begged.

“Of course!”

He began to leave, you at his heels. He then revealed his secret that one wall hid a door. As he opened it, you practically pushed him through. But he kept a hand to prevent you from fully closing it.

“I will ask of you anon?” he asked.

“Yes, you may…”

“Your grace!” the lady's voice rang.

You turned your head and replied loudly.

“You may enter!”

Turning back to him, you began to close the door. Just before he vanished, he whispered.

“Farewell, Y/N.”

“Farewell, Henry.”

You closed and stood before it innocuously as the other ladies returned, cleaning up the pillows on the floor without question.

------------------------------------------------------------------

The Tenth Day

You saw him the next morning. You saw him eat quietly. You still felt raw from the crying yesterday and kept quiet even as his brothers and your family chatted. Plates had long since been emptied. Henry looked among the party and cleared his throat.

“I feel I am in need of some fresher air…” Henry announced.

The others turned their heads. Henry looked at you where you sat next to him.

“My lady, would you like to accompany me?” he asked.

"Yes," you responded demurely.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I trust it is my lady’s will….” he prodded.

“My lord, it is indeed,” you answered.

He turned to your parents and his brothers.

“Come, we all shall!” he invited.

The chairs squeaked as everyone got up. Henry stood and offered you an arm. You held onto it, keeping it at his side and feeling its warmth, its solidity. Henry’s page was at the door to give him his red cloak and gloves to keep warm as were your ladies to bundle you up. Once in your cloaks, again, Henry offered you his arm. Again, you accepted it. They followed the both of you outside, keeping at a steady distance. The sun was shining, it was a little warmer than normal for January. The pretty snow around the gardens had melted and there was nothing but depressing, dark mush and sad, dead plants.

“It should snow, then it would feel like winter,” you sighed.

A smile broke on Henry’s face. He looked out among the plants.

“Nay, I say it is Spring.” He said.

Blinking, you looked up at him.

“Spring? Why Spring?” you asked.

He paused in your steps. Your family and his came to a halt behind you. Then he took his gloved hands to clasp both of yours and raised it to his chin, and then spoke, looking at you with that same grin.

“Because the loveliest flower in England is right beside me and therefore, for me, it is spring.”

He then brought your hands and kissed first the left one and then the right one. You felt your own pulse pick up and despite the chill, your body became warm. You gave into his charm, a slight giggle escaping you as you covered your mouth once your hand was released and enjoyed the sensation of his lips on each hand. Your parents and his brothers gave each other a look at the scene and smiled.

You hadn't had a nicer walk in ages.

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