#gladiator fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

navybrat817 · 1 year

Text

Spoils of War

Pairing: Gladiator!Steve Rogers x Female Reader, mention of Dark Advisor!Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: Steve gets a reward for a job well done and wishes he could have been with you under different circumstances. Word Count: Over 3k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Noncon references (do NOT read if this upsets you), Dubcon elements (reader consents with Steve), vaginal unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), possessive behavior, dirty talk, talks of violence, captivity, servitude, dark themes, Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?) A/N: Here we go with The Arena! Please heed the warnings with each post for this AU as there will be dark elements throughout. Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Steve Rogers believed in doing the right thing. Even as a young boy, he didn't allow his small size to let bullies push him, or others, around. As long as he could get up, he would fight. He carried that idealism throughout his life. It was why he chose to work with S.H.I.E.L.D..

But he no longer fought for the greater good.

The cheers from the arena rang in his ears as he closed his eyes, the water from the showerhead washing the blood and grime away. It wouldn't take away the guilt that ate at his soul. He was meant to save people, not take their lives away. How was he reduced to being a puppet for the demented masses?

One day, he would be free.

Today, he would savor the spoils of war.

"You've done well, Captain Rogers. A prize is long overdue."

Steve dried off moments later and kept a towel around his waist as he waited for you. He didn't have to wait much longer. The cell door opened long enough to shove you inside, anger boiling in his gut when you almost fell to your knees.

"Break her and Barber will kill you," the guard threatened.

Andy Barber. His former colleague. Your master.

"Should I tell him you nearly made her fall on her face or do you want to do that yourself?"

The guard didn't respond, but had the decency to look afraid before he slammed the door and left the two of you alone.

Steve watched as you straightened up and carefully glanced around the room. The cell HYDRA kept him in was comfortable enough. A small bathroom, a nice bed, and a desk so he could draw. Charcoal only, as they didn't allow him to have anything he could use to harm them. They also refused to let him have a cell near Bucky, afraid they would conspire against the guards and break free.

Even if he did have a weapon with him, he wouldn't use it on you.

His prize.

"Would you like to sit down?" he asked, bringing your gaze toward him.

This was the first time he had seen up close since the day everything went to hell. You were still beautiful, but there was sorrow in your eyes that hadn't been there before. The lacy red and black lingerie set did little to cover you, so different from the office clothes he typically saw you in. He wondered if you shivered slightly from the cold or fear.

"Yes. Thank you, Captain," you answered, offering him a small smile as you made your way to the foot of the bed.

You still had the same smile.

"Don't call me that," he said harsher than he intended to. "I'm not your Captain anymore."

He failed as Captain America. HYDRA captured you, Bucky, and countless others because he hadn't taken them down. It seemed like they only referred to him by his title to taunt him. Was he ever worthy of the shield?

Your smile slipped away as you sat down and lowered your gaze. "I'm sorry, sir."

Steve immediately wanted to pull you into his arms and apologize. You weren't in his cell for more than two minutes and he took his frustration out on you. He hadn't meant to.

"You don't need to apologize. I'm sorry for taking that tone with you. Steve or sir are both fine, sweetheart," he said, his towel slipping further down his hips as he walked toward you. "Or would you prefer I call you by your name?"

"You can call me whatever you want."

The words sounded rehearsed.

You looked up at him when his warm hand cradled your jaw, surprising him when you didn't recoil. He wondered what you saw as you looked into his eyes. A murderer? A monster?

"Why did you ask for me?" you asked.

"Because I was told I could have a reward for a job well done," he told you.

You narrowed your eyes. "Why me specifically?"

Rewards were typically in the form of a mistress since fighters couldn't ask for their freedom, or challenge anyone in charge to a battle. Mistresses were usually sent from the harem and not taken directly from one of the advisors or generals. It was only natural that you'd ask why.

"You belong to Andy Barber," he stated to gauge your reaction.

You flinched, your eyes flashing with something akin to offense and fury, but you didn't pull free from Steve's grasp. From what he gathered, you weren't a willing mistress to Andy. You knelt beside him at every match he could remember and never said a word. Advisors and Generals loved to show off their possessions. Requesting you as his prize for doing such a good job in the arena pissed Andy off, but he couldn't deny him.

A pet having power or sway over a master isn't allowed.

But unlike Andy, Steve's intentions weren't to harm or force himself on you.

If he thought for a moment that you were a willing participant in this, your reaction told him otherwise. "I don't belong to anyone."

"I wasn't trying to offend you," he promised, keeping his hand on you as he took a seat beside you. "How does he treat you?"

You hesitated before you answered. "Sometimes he fucks me like he loves me."

He ran a thumb across your cheek when a tear fell from your eye, rage surging through his veins. Even though you didn't bear any physical scars like him and the other fighters, you no doubt had wounds on the inside. Forced into sexual servitude would be enough to hurt the strongest of people. But the flicker of fire in your eyes, you still had some fight in you. It comforted him that they didn't break you.

"Did he do something to you? Is this some sort of payback?" you guessed.

"He did, but I didn't ask for you to get back at him," he said.

He wouldn't have asked for Andy's mistress if it was anyone other than you.

"I don't know why you're asking how he treats me. At the end of the day, I'm just his whore," you said, eying him warily. "And tonight, I'm yours."

He shook his head, bringing his other hand up to cup both cheeks. "You're not a whore."

He wished you could be his girl.

Maybe in another life.

"Then I don't understand why I'm here if you're not going to use me," you said, confusion filling your beautiful eyes. "I'm nobody."

"You worked on the 3rd floor," he said, tracing his finger along your bra strap when you gasped. "You had a cardigan on the back of your chair and the background on your computer matched whatever season we were in. You kept to yourself, but offered a small, kind smile whenever someone looked your way or jumped in to help without anyone asking. You were vital to S.H.I.E.L.D. and you're far from being a nobody."

You moved an inch closer and his gaze fell to your lips. "You knew me?" you asked in disbelief as he nodded. "I-I never thought anyone as high up as you would've noticed me."

"Of course, I did. I was just too stupid to say anything then," he replied, smiling sadly when he wiped another tear away.

Would it have made this situation better? Worse? Dwelling on "what if" would do more harm than good.

“So, you asked for me because you wanted to see me? You care?”

He let out a breath as he nodded. “I had to see for myself that you’re okay. Well, as okay as you can be given the circumstances,” he said.

There were so many things he wanted to say. That he was sorry a man like Andy ever got his hands on you. That he didn’t want you to give up hope. Why wouldn’t the words come out?

"I didn't think anyone cared," you said, lightly tracing a tiny scar on his arm. Something in your expression shifted from uncertainty to seductive as you leaned in closer. "But that shouldn't surprise me. You're a good man."

He placed a hand on your lips to stop you before you kissed him. Yes, he asked for you to be here, but he didn't want you to feel forced to do this. “No, sweetheart. I’m not going to use you.”

The point of his confession, or whatever he could call it, wasn't to make you give in to him. He needed you to know you did mean something to someone. You weren't alone in this.

“Is it using me if I’m offering?” you countered when he lowered his hand, giving you the chance to lean in to pepper his jaw with soft kisses. He didn’t stop you this time. “Unless you don’t want me.”

Steve wanted you. God, he wanted you, but he wouldn’t take from you the way Andy did. Even when you placed a hand on his thigh, your touch light and heavenly, he had to resist. HYDRA reduced him to a killer, he refused to sink any lower.

“I know you won’t hurt me,” you said, leaning back and reaching behind you to unhook your bra. He didn’t mean to groan when you took it off, but your breasts on display had his heart pounding against his ribs. Your nipples were hard and he hadn’t even properly touched you. “Like I said, you're a good man.”

Steve’s hands fell to your hips when you straddled him, his cock twitching beneath the towel. Was it wrong to give in if you wanted it? But did you actually want him? Were you acting on instinct? Orders?

“How am I a good man if I’m taking advantage of you?” he tried to argue when you pushed your hips down.

“You aren’t. You're giving me a choice and I'm choosing to give myself to you,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I want to forget even if it’s just for tonight.”

He wanted to forget, too. He didn’t want to see the blood that stained his shield or the life leaving the eyes of the bodies that fell. What he wouldn’t give to have a beer with Bucky after a mission gone well. Or take you out on a proper date.

“I’m your prize, Steve. So take it.”

The last shred of hesitation inside him snapped when he fastened his lips against yours. You went pliant against him, opening your mouth for him to take what he wanted. It wasn’t how he wanted your first kiss with him to be, but it made him dizzy nonetheless.

He didn’t break the kiss as he rolled you over, spreading you out on your back to slide in between your thighs. He swallowed down the small sound you made before he gave you both a chance to catch your breath. The sight of you gazing up at him made him lose his breath again.

“Please,” you whispered, shuddering as he moved his calloused hands up your legs.

He heard people beg before, but not like this. You would be his salvation. He hoped he could be yours, too.

Torn between kissing up your thighs or diving right in, he decided to dip a hand between your legs. You shivered again as he pressed his palm against the damp, flimsy fabric. “You’re wet,” he said in awe, gripping the underwear and tearing it away.

Your back arched, sending a shiver down his spine when he saw your eyes glaze over with lust. “For you, Steve.”

For him.

The slide of his first finger made him close his eyes. You were tight and warm and the clench around the digit alone was enough to make his cock twitch. He wondered if you ever got this wet for Andy. Did he prep you? Make you come?

“I’m supposed to take care of you,” you whined when he pushed another finger in.

“Are you my prize, sweetheart?” he asked, spreading and sliding his fingers in and out. He brought his other hand up to your breasts, not wanting to neglect them as he toyed with your pussy. "Are you giving yourself to me?"

“Yes,” you said breathlessly when he pinched a hardened bud, your walls tightening more by the time he added a third finger. “I am.”

“Then let me handle you as I see fit,” the slight command that came out was reminiscent of his days of being a Captain, the very thing he told you not to call him.

“Yes, Sir,” you whimpered, arching your back again when he removed his fingers.

He brought them to his mouth and licked each of them clean, savoring the sweet and tangy flavor of you on his tongue. If he was a better man, he’d take more time with you. Worship every inch of you until you sobbed and begged for more. Later, he’d indulge until all he knew was your taste. Your first orgasm though, he wanted on his cock.

He had to be inside you now.

You blinked and smiled as if you sensed his need. “I’m ready.”

Steve gripped the base of his cock as he settled between your legs. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine you were in his home. He refused to do so. This was the reality you were in and he had to make the most of it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, silencing you with a kiss when you opened your mouth.

You gasped as he lined up with your entrance and slowly slid in. He almost stopped halfway through when you clenched hard around him, but his kisses relaxed you enough to let him in. He never felt anything as good as you and was sure he never would again. He was afraid he’d become addicted.

“I’m sorry, too,” you whispered back, sending shivers down his spine when you ran your fingers through his beard. “But it’s okay.”

He began to thrust, unable to take the tenderness in your eyes. In another life, he would’ve been worthy of that gaze and comfort. Now it was survival of the fittest.

“I won’t break,” you moaned, allowing him to take your wrists and pin them over your head. “You can fuck me how you need to.”

“What was it you said?” he asked, driving deeper into you to make you moan louder. “He fucks you like he loves you?”

You choked on your breath when you gazed up at him with fear in your eyes. You blinked it away before he could dwell on it. “Sometimes.”

“You haven’t been fucked by me before,” he grunted, taking your leg to wrap around his hip. “When I send him back to you, you’ll be dripping with me. He'll know you'll never truly be his."

A loud moan escaped when his grip on your wrists tightened, your hips rising to meet his thrusts as he fucked into you. It was easier than he thought to forget the horrors when he was buried inside you. What would he have to do to keep you for more than a night?

You squirmed when he slid his hand between your bodies and sought out your bundle of nerves. “You said you don’t belong to anyone, but here with me, you’re mine,” he said, circling your clit with his thumb. The whine he got in response was otherworldly. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you moaned, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

He wanted to believe it.

“Again,” he gritted. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours. I’m yours!”

Your eyes widened when you quivered around him, a gush of wetness flowing around his cock as you cried out. The orgasm seemed to take you by surprise, but he kept up his pace to ride it out. He hoped it would be the first of many. Your face twisted in pleasure was almost enough to send him over the edge.

“Please, Steve,” you moaned brokenly, lying bonelessly beneath him as he buried his face in your neck.

Steve couldn’t resist when you begged so beautifully, letting out a broken sound of his own as he spilled into you. The release had him panting against your skin as finished, trying to remember the last time he experienced ecstasy like that. He desperately tried to hang on, not wanting it to end for either of you.

He pushed himself up to look at you, but didn't pull out, a sense of pride filling him at your fucked out expression. Releasing your wrists, he brought your hands up to wrap around him. He wasn’t expecting to need the comforting touch, but he had to feel your hands on him after what you shared.

Silence stretched on as snuggled close and he thought for a moment that you drifted off when you stayed quiet.

“I don’t want to send you back in the morning,” he admitted, tilting your chin so you'd look at him.

You quietly sniffled as you turned away. “I don’t either, but you have to. Andy is furious enough as it is."

He pulled you in for a hug when you trembled. He wanted to choke the life out of Andy himself. Maybe HYDRA had made him a monster.

“Maybe you can't stay here permanently, but I’ll ask for you again after my next match. I promise.”

He didn’t want you around Andy longer than you had to be.

“So, we meet up after your fights and allow ourselves to keep forgetting? You go back into the fight and I go back to the Advisor quarters?” you asked, your eyes shining as he let you rest against the mattress.

He tilted his head as he studied your face. The blissful expression had determination underneath. Both of you wanted to get out of here, like everyone else. With your position, maybe you could use it to your, and his, advantage.

“I’m a fighter. You’re the mistress of an advisor. I’m sure we can forget and find other uses for our time together,” he said carefully, in case he was reading you incorrectly. “What do you say?”

The smile you gave him was hopeful. “I'm in."

Oh, you don't think it'll be that easy, do you? Not if Andy has his way. 😏 Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #gladiator!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #gladiator!steve rogers #the arena #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you

768 notes · View notes

potatomountain · 9 months

Text

Fallen Crown pt 3: To Covet

Captured prince Yeosang[Ateez] x “tainted” Princess fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of r*pe, manipulation, trauma, bloodbath, mentions of death, panic attacks. let me know if i missed any!

Word count: 4.6k

An: this took me awhile as I'm still trying to get back into writing regularly but here ya go <3 gentle reminder this does have some dark themes!

Taglist now at the bottom!

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Much to my surprise, there was no difficulty in retrieving food and supplies for my new charge. Despite the King agreeing to my proposal I had expected some trouble, as the sadistic fuck loved to see anyone struggle. But there was none.

Food was supplied even if it was stale bread and scraps of cheese. My own meals seemed to be a bit more in abundance, and I would set some aside for him. The only true difficulty was that I could only see him once a day, and it was now monitored.

A week passed, my visits were short as I tended to his wounds and changed the bandages. He wore the clothes I had brought him as they fit quite snuggly, and on more than one occasion I found myself admiring the muscles accented by the fabric. If he noticed, he did not say; in fact he said nothing at all.

But he didn't need to. With his back to the guarded bars, his eyes always held the same question as he would look over the dark dresses I would wear, covering all the wounds he had inflicted on me. They weren't deep, nothing that needed more than a few stitches like a gash on my arm, but I was fine. His gaze was always looking for proof that I was, and his concern would flutter my heart in a way I wasn't so keen on.

I was resigned to my fate, I did not want him incenting dreams or desires in me. That was a cruelty I couldn't handle.

After I would dress his wounds, I would leave the food and water for him and leave without a word. Our silent exchanges felt like anything but, yet it seemed lost on the guard.

The guard was just as silent as we, which had me on edge. Nearly every guard or man under my father's command would have some snide remark to make, with the exception of a few, but this was not one I was familiar with. I suspected he was ordered to watch for something, but I don't know what. I could only hope he was satisfied.

The day for another round in the arena came, and as per usual I was stepping into the center of the coliseum in some semblance of a red dress, this time one that showed off every wound I had. In a week's time they were not as bad, but the maids who had dressed me had applied makeup to make them stand out more- in particular one on my exposed stomach as the dress seemed to be a two part piece inspired by the island kingdoms in the South.

There was a gash on my upper right arm accentuated to look worse than it was with the stitches, and a few extra 'bruises' painted on. The crowd seemed to enjoy the view of my battered body, with my hair and face done up just like a pristine doll for contrast. I assumed it was just for the people's entertainment, as that was all I ever was now.

I should've thought about it more.

While I awaited instructions, prisoners were brought out by the dozen- war prisoners. Some seemed to recognize me and I realized that even the men of the nobles that had joined the rebellion were held here. Dozen by dozen, until half the arena was packed with the war prisoners. The last one to enter was him, my charge, wearing the same clothes he had worn the last time in the arena, the cut up fabric showing the dirty bandages underneath.

We locked eyes for a moment, but I was the first to look away. I did not like this stage the King was setting up. All prisoners of the rebellion, from both kingdoms, were present, as was the head of the noble faction that was now considered a traitor.

Today he was making an example out of them no doubt.

"How fitting, our tainted Princess standing in a crowd of traitors. Despite how dirty you are, you are still royalty though no?" The King's voice boomed over the crowd, effectively silencing the arena. "They should all be on their knees to you, Princess of the Arena."

Bestowed with a new title it seemed, one that wasn't as derogatory as the others, I could only stare up at the King's dias in shock. Something was wrong, something was different, and I did not like it.

What game was he going to play with me now?

The shuffling of chains drew my attention to Yeosang as he climbed down to his knees, half the prisoners following suit quickly. My mouth hung agape, eyes wide. Despite the forced show of respect, I saw it for what it was: they were all bowing because their Prince was.

Whether the King was aware of it or not, I couldn't tell from here, shrugging off the kneeling prisoners with a wave of my hand I turned and stared up once more at the dias. "A title comes with responsibility, Your Majesty, so what duties are you giving your humble servant?" I made a show of a modest bow, keeping my head lowered but eyes on him.

"I'm glad you asked, my dear, as it pertains to today's events. See, we have far too many prisoners for our dungeons... killing all these traitors seems pointless. Since you so graciously took their leader as your charge, I will give you the responsibility of deciding the rest of their fates."

My stomach dropped, the weight of so many lives on my shoulders felt unbearably crushing. I fought off the urge to look back at Yeosang, wanting his guidance on this matter. He led them before, he would know what to do- but I couldn't ask him.

Instead I turned slowly, taking in the worn faces of every prisoner in the arena, half of them with expressions of anger or disgust at this predicament, but the others seemed nonchalant, or not at all worried. "There are too many-" I called out, gaze briefly landing on Yeosang's figure, but he tore his own from me. He probably didn't like this predicament either.

"Well?!" The King called out, drawing my attention once more. "What shall we do with them, hm?"

Letting them go was out of the question, he would just kill them and I on the spot if I tried. He would refuse to feed them if I didn't make a decision either, let them die out slowly. Or... I couldn't save all of them, but I could most.

Clearing my throat I held my head high and arms wide. "Let them fight! They were so eager to do so before. Here is a plethora of entertainment for your People, Your majesty! Have them fight for their cells, then their food, and if you wish to show your merciful side... perhaps even freedom? The conditions of their fight are whatever would please you, as you know what your people need the most do you not?"

The stands roared at the idea, even more entertainment, more bloodshed for them to watch. The King's laughter mingled with the cheers until he called for silence. "You have earned the title Princess of the Arena, as you have learned well how to please the people and myself. Your idea certainly is better than having them all fight to the death here and now for only one winner. However... it would be a shame to have brought them all out here just to have you decide their fate."

So there was still going to be a bloodbath today.

"Since this will be the last day for some, I will grant them some mercy. They can witness that sinful dance of yours. So many already think you are worth more than freedom, I wonder if these scum will."

Cheers once more erupted but I didn't care, my heart was beating for an entirely different reason now. He was once more dangling me as bait in front of his fighters, once more shaming me in a new way. I should be used to it, no I was, but this was a humiliation on a different level. It was a humiliation to the men around me: to Yeosang.

Oddly enough I did not want to be shamed in front of him either; not when he has shown me more respect, more kindness, than anyone before him.

Yet I had no right to protest, not in the eyes of the King or the people in the stands. I was still a puppet and my strings were being pulled. So when the music started up somewhere in the stands, I danced.

Shortly after my fall, the moves for this particular dance were shown to me by a prostitute the King had brought in. 'Since you are now the royal whore, you should know how to perform like one' was his excuse. Even still, the dance was not that sinful, not that seductive... only paired with the exposed skin was it.

My bare feet glided over the sand beneath me, the eyes of hundreds of prisoners fixated on my form but only one I was even more aware of than the rest. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him, he seemed as transfixed as the soldiers around him but by the clench of his jaw it was not for the same reason. Eyes on my stomach, then my arm, the bruises on my exposed thighs- each flicker of his gaze darker than the last.

I didn't understand why he was concerned, or was it guilt? Guilt I could understand, as I could see the bandages as plain as the sand beneath my feet. I could still picture his lashed and raw back in my mind, the guilt heavy stones in my stomach knowing I put them there.

Just thinking about the damage I had done to him had me stumbling over my own feet in distraction. I caught myself quickly enough, but it wasn't missed by the nearby onlookers.

Relief washed over me as I finished the dance on my knees, head lowered and arms held out at my sides in a way to submit myself. I could hear the cheers, the crowd familiar with my dance, but the men around me were silent. For war prisoners, they seemed awfully lifeless... or obedient? I spared a glance up through my lashes at the man I knew they were obedient for, briefly catching pain on his features before it was whisked away and replaced with a nonchalance.

Once more the King quieted the audience before speaking up. "Even wounded you still put on a good performance fitting of the Royal Whore. Let's give the deprived scum something more to fight for, say a kiss from you today?" Chills ran down my spine while the crowd loved it. A kiss? "It was scum that defiled you first, so that seems rather fitting. Very well! I will announce today's game!"

I shifted in the sand, turning my back to Yeosang and staring up at the red canopy shielding the King from the sun's rays. After a bit of chit chat with those around him, he spoke into the magic tool once more.

"There are just over four hundred prisoners in the arena currently, the last one hundred left alive will live another day. The best fighters will be assessed by the guards around the arena and will participate in a fight for the grand prize. With only one exception- the fallen Prince shall be the final opponent and will not partake in the blood shed today, as he is under the protection of our dear filthy Princess. What say you?"

The idea of bloodshed, of deprived men fighting to kiss a whore, excited the crowd while it terrified me.

The King was skilled in making his puppets shine as fools. Skilled in stripping them of their pride and will until they were obedient brutes who played into his hands. He enjoyed dangling me as a toy for even traitors to play with, and was enjoying making light of their rebellion, their fight to attempt to overthrow this kingdom. He wanted to see them toss it aside for something as shameful as a woman's kiss.

No honor, no pride, no morality or dignity. He wanted all that stripped of each person in the arena.

The guards approached Yeosang and I, leading us off to the side near the arena gates. The guards went through but instructed us to stay put, leaving us with the best seats in the house. Our backs to the bars, we had to face the four hundred other prisoners who were slowly standing up. There were no weapons handed out, nothing but the chains around each prisoner's hands.

It wasn't often I was present or watched a fight to the death, and usually there were weapons involved. When the gong sounded, at first none of them moved. They looked to each other, and several looked in our direction; no, they looked to their Prince.

I could see the slightest of nods from him out of the corner of my eye, and only then did the bloodbath occur. And it was indeed just that.

Four hundred prisoners of war tearing each other apart with their bare hands and chains was a gruesome sight. It was not easy killing another in the crowd, and no death would be quick enough in such a situation.

It was easily one of the most terrifying sights I had to witness. I wasn't sure where to look, or why I should, but it was nearly impossible to keep a straight face as I watched. I couldn't tear my eyes away either.

My stomach lurched when a body fell just a few meters from us. Sure we weren't that far from the bloodshed considering how many bodies currently filled the sands of the arena, but this was close enough blood splattered on the sand just in reach of my feet.

"Gods-" I turned quickly, shutting my eyes while my hands went over my stomach. This was almost too much, they were being so brutal, screams and cheers ringing so loudly my head pounded. I wished for nothing more than for it to stop, or to be in a position that I could be ignorant to what was happening. Oblivious and unawares.

Yet I will never forget.

A soft touch on my arm startled me, hand lashing out and slapping away the perpetrator.

"It's alright-" Yeosang's sweet voice rang through the noise, drawing my wide eyes to him. "I'm sorry you have to see this."

"Sorry?!" I couldn't believe this, why was he apologizing to me? "Those are your men. Men you knew, that fought with you and followed you- were loyal to you. Why are you saying sorry to me? Are you unaffected watching them tear each other apart??" Panic had my voice rising a few octaves, the sounds of death still ringing in my ear and peripheral.

Yet he was so calm. Why was he calm? Why did he seem so apologetic as if he was the one doing wrong... to me?

A loud cry nearby startled me enough i physically jumped, eyes wide with obvious fear. This felt no different than the bandit raid that changed my life. "Yeosang-" Yet I had something to latch onto now; a comfort I hadn't had before.

Why he was a comfort was lost to me, perhaps because we were undergoing this psychological torture together. That had to be it, right?

"It's alright. You can't break just yet Princess, I know you can withstand more than this." He spoke low and evenly, a vast difference to my growing erratic breathing. "I am here." Those three words struck a chord in my chest, finding new strength in my core to regain control over my breathing while our eyes stayed locked in what felt like an embrace. His shining with a steady comfort, and my own reflecting my fear even as it dissipated.

With a slow nod I kept my eyes locked on his, reaching out and grabbing onto the loose chain around his wrist. The movement was subtle, and only for a moment of comfort; any more and I'd risk too many onlookers seeing and risk a punishment.

I wasn't sure how much time passed, forcing myself to stare straight ahead once I put some distance between us. Even still I watched him out of the corner of my eye; it was the better option compared to watching the bloodshed. His own expression was impassive, his own eyes remaining forward. Since I was to his left, I could notice the mark on his left eye. I've admired it a few times, probably a birthmark. This close and just peeking out from the strands of his black hair it almost resembled a heart.

It was the sound of a gong reverberating through the arena that drew my attention back to the slaughter. The fight seemed to be over, only one fourth of the prisoners remained standing and most did not look spared their own damage.

"It's over..." with a sigh of relief I squared my shoulders, awaiting for the announcement that would come shortly. But just as the King began congratulating the remaining fighters, the gate behind the two of us opened and the guards ushered us through. It seemed neither of us were going to witness this next part.

We were brought to a nearby room, much like a cell but a bit more decorated to be a waiting room. I usually sat here during matches, unable to see the arena but you could hear the cheers well enough. The wooden door was shut behind us, leaving us alone and out of sight, which just perplexed me.

Rage filled me as well; rage that if they intended to bring me here anyways, why wait until after the bloodshed? Why did I have to be subjugated to that ghastly sight!?

But I knew the reason, he was standing right behind me.

Exasperated, and overwhelmed, I stumbled over to a nearby bench, sitting down a bit roughly. I heard him approach, but I didn’t lift my head, not even when he stood before me.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?!” My head shot back to look up at him, my brow furrowed and trying to make sense of his apologetic expression. “For what? What could you possibly be sorry for, Your Majesty?” It’s not as if you forced them to murder each other like that. Not as if you forced me to watch.” I emphasized through gritted teeth, tears burning just behind my lids. “I should be apologizing to you- it’s my father that forced this, that demands it, for his own sick and twisted games. So why are you? Why are you-” The words broke off on a sob, and before tears could fall I lowered my head into my hands.

He just followed suit, kneeling down before me, hesitantly placing his hands on my bare knees. “Are your wounds really as bad as they look?” The care in the way he ran a thumb over a bruise on my outer thigh matched his tone, soothing the raging storm inside my heart a bit.

“No- they were enhanced for the crowd’s entertainment.” I replied, watching his hands through my fingers until a realization hit. “You…” Slowly I lifted my head, staring at him incredulously. Were you apologizing for these wounds?” He nodded, his own gaze refusing to meet mine. “I do not wish to hurt you, or see you hurt.” “And why not? I’m a part of this kingdom even if they don’t treat me as such. I still have that bastard’s blood in my veins- the one who just ordered your men to die like that. I am not deserving of your concern.” “My men knew what they were getting into with this war, the price they would pay should it fail. No man followed me to this city without accepting that this could be their fate.” He took my hands in his. “Not a single one of them faults you for your father’s deeds. It would warm their hearts to know you shed tears for them.”

I wanted to protest, but the tears running down my cheeks were evidence enough. “No one should die like that.” In need of comfort I no longer could deny myself, I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his unburdened shoulder, my body shaking. “How can they cheer for such cruelty?”

Sobs escaped me, and in an effort to muffle them I pressed closer. He didn’t push me off, instead reaching up and wrapping his arms around my shoulders in an embrace. I didn’t feel as if I deserved his kindness, his care, sympathy- whatever this was. It ignited emotions in me I didn’t not need, because it was hopeless to feel these things. This anger, sorrow, and the urge to be spiteful and fight.

I could not fight, in the end I was just as much a prisoner here as the men out there. If the puppeteer asked me to tear another to death with my bare hands, I would.

It was that irony that dissolved me into a mess in his arms. Someone who should have been my enemy, but acted as my ally.

By the time the door opened once more, I had collected myself and put some distance between us. He hadn’t said anything to my broken babblings while I had cried, but his expression had seemed distant since, jaw clenched tightly I could notice it across the room.

“Come on scum, it’s your turn to fight.” The guard motioned for Yeosang to exit but he had turned his eyes towards me. “I can’t tell if I’m jealous of you or find you pitiful, to have to fight for that whore’s lips. Always wanted to kiss a Princess, not a whore though.”

I didn’t have the energy to be angry after all that crying, my gaze downcast. Really I should be used to this by now.

Yeosang threw me for a shock, however, as a scoff escaped him as he passed the guard. “If she had to kiss you, I’d pity her.”

The guard just laughed it off, patting Yeosang heavily on his injured shoulder when I looked up. “Smitten with the Whore already? I think you two are perfect for each other. Better go win your prize then bastard.” He pushed him forward and out of sight, slamming the door and leaving me be.

Alone I could feel how warm my cheeks were, and not from humiliation. Had he really taken a jab at the guard for my honor? I shouldn’t be happy about that; it could give the king the wrong message if Yeosang appeared smitten with me. He would use it to toy with him, dangle me as bait in front of the man and use me as a way to hurt him. I shivered at the many possibilities that would entail, and most were not good.

The only idea that didn’t sound repulsive was Yeosang actually winning myself as a prize. Not because I wanted to do anything with him, but I was sure he would do nothing to me the way one of those brutes would.

Whilst trying to wrap my head around that idea, the cheers rang through the arena, disrupting my thoughts. Oddly enough I was escorted out of the room and back into the arena the next moment, perplexed by how fast that battle seemed to be.

My heartbeat should not have quickened at the sight of him standing in the center of a couple hundred dead bodies. My breath should not have hitched when we locked eyes, and I should not have found myself in awe at how nearly unscathed he was while his opponent was being carried away unconscious.

This is dangerous. I told myself, hands gripped together in front of me as I stopped just a few feet from the man.

“Well, claim your prize prisoner!” The King called from his seat, cheers and cries of discontent filling the space all around us.

None of that scared me more than the look in his eyes. It wasn’t cold or fierce, but I was familiar with a look akin to it: desire. If this man desired me, I was afraid it would consume us both. I had to think quickly, something to deter the impending struggle that would come from this prize, as it would seal our fate in a different way.

In a panic I was the one who closed the distance, reaching up and grabbing his chains to pull him down to my level while crashing my lips to his. Tears pricked the back of my eyes once more, nasty emotions welling in my chest at the realization that yes, I desired this man too, and it was a shame this was all I could do of it. That it would be a show of entertainment, that even these emotions and actions were to be pulled by the puppeteer and used against me to entertain this crowd.

I made the kiss quick, pulling away before he had a chance to respond. I made a show of wiping my mouth and spitting, giving a glare before turning to face the Royal Dias. “I hope my shame pleases you, Your Majesty! Giving me to even a traitor of your great empire? Is there not more entertaining things you could use this man for? Rather than kiss a whore?” I raised my voice as loud as it would go, unable to look Yeosang in the eyes and playing it off as disgust.

The King laughed, apparently pleased with my outburst. “It would be amusing to give the rebellious spirit something to fight for in here. You may be a useless gem, but even the lowest beings covet something. What say you, Kang Yeosang? Would you fight more for prizes from my daughter? Is that something you covet?”

Turning to Yeosang, I hoped he would say nothing, just lower his head and submit just for this. But with a small shake of his head I felt my stomach drop. “I coveted all that was yours, that was why I dared to raise my sword to your walls. That desire doesn’t dissipate with chains, even if all means of achieving have all been thwarted. I’ll covet anything of yours, including whom you consider a whore.”

There were mixed reactions from the crowd, some enjoyed the speech and laughed with the King; others screamed profanities and wished death upon him. Ultimately the King silenced them, approaching the rail to appear before his people. “I like your spirit, it would be amusing to have the fallen Prince a puppet in my hands. Very well, I’ll give you the opportunity to lay claim… eventually. I’m eager to see just how far you will go, to have what is mine.” He continued on, giving a speech to the crowd to draw today’s activities to an end.

“You’re insane- going to get us both killed.” I hissed out, shocked he would do this. “And I’m not an object for you to have!” Guards approached to escort us out of the arena, but I stormed ahead, shaking my head at the man who had a half smirk on his face, and humor glinting in his eye.

What is going to happen now?

_____________________________________________________________

Masterlist | Next

taglist (to join): @lelaleleb / @ammystri / @candypop1611 / @inkpot-winters / @avantalem / @piratequeen-queenofgames /

61 notes · View notes