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smolvenger · 7 months

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The Tavern Prince (Prince Hal x fem! Y/N Oneshot)

Summary: You are shocked and unhappy to find out you are betrothed to notorious rake, Prince Hal. But one evening, he sneaks you into the Boar's Head Tavern...and your mind about him starts to change.

Warnings: Smut at the end!! 18+ NSFW! (thigh riding, fingering, loss of virginity, dirty talk, good ol' p in v). Reader is super Proper and Prim and has a stick up her butt just because I wanted her to in this fic for the drama and tension of paring her with Hal (and I'm sick of Pick Me Girls in Historic Fiction. So Much) Mentions of sex and cheating (but no actual cheating, our boy would never. Trust me, I'm a Shakespeare expert). Not believable, but we're running on vibes, not accuracy so forget that couples were chaperoned or whatever. References to Shakespeare's plays and words (like "Die"= slang for orgasm and "wag"= boy).

Word Count: 9K (get some water, besties, and whores)

Taglist: @huntress-artemiss @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites@villainousshakespeare@holdmytesseract (smut starts at "sweetest of ladies" and ends at "Hal...I have no words.." btw bestie for your comfort) @eleniblue@twhxhck@lokisgoodgirl@lovelysizzlingbluebird@raqnarokr@holymultiplefandomsbatman@michelleleewise@wolfsmom1@cheekyscamp@mochie85@muddyorbsblr

“Y/N, we have something very exciting to announce. The king has given his consent. You are going to marry the prince…” your father announced to you at the table. Your mother nodded her head beside him.

You let a smile spread across your face. You were so thrilled you held your breath for a second. This was an honor beyond anything you could comprehend of what he would say. How many would want that honor? What woman didn’t want to be a princess? There were many princes in the world, but it had to be one of the English princes. They couldn’t mean some other country. The English king had four sons- which one was your groom? Likely not the youngest two- Humphrey and Thomas. They were boys, far too young for marriage.

That meant- the second eldest son! You interrupted in your excitement.

“Oh! I am to marry John of Lancaster! Oh, mother-father! How wonderful! He’s the sweetest youth- and he is always at each meeting with his father, the king! Oh, what a good husband he will be! I am so hap-”

“Y/N, I believe you misunderstood us,” your mother cut in.

You froze, blinking quickly.

“What do you mean?” you asked. “I’m not marrying a prince?”

“No, you are…” replied your mother.

If not Humphrey, if not Thomas, if not John…that left one English prince.

They smiled and took your hands across the table.

“The one who matters. The one who will make you one day queen of England through your union…”

Oh no, you thought, God’s blood, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, please, please oh Lord Above- please not him please not-

“You betrothed to his grace, the Prince of Wales, Henry Lancaster…”

It felt like a punch. You blinked, and your voice got smaller.

“You mean…Prince Harry?” you asked.

“Oh, yes, dear girl! Our daughter- Princess of Wales and then Queen of England!” your mother cooed. She went up and hugged you. Not that she could see the frown growing on your face.

Your father kissed your forehead. You put on a small smile. A practice one when they were looking. You swallowed it back.

You should have been thrilled to find out you were marrying the prince of Wales, the heir to England, to Bolingbroke, to the Lancasters. Your rational mind knew it was a huge honor.

But married to Prince Harry- no, Hal! That was what his vile friends all called him! Seems fit you should think of him as such!

Hal, the rake. The riotous son. The dishonorable son. The one with a dozen prostitutes at his heels! He even wore a glove from one to a joust once! The rebel. The drunk. The prankster. The scoundrel. The son his father wished could be swapped for another- everyone knew that. The reason why John of Lancaster was always in court? Because Hal was so little seen in the castle and at events and never appeared! Shirking his responsibilities to hang around bars! With seedy thieves and criminals and who knows what else!

You were not strangers. You had spoken with him the few times he had been in court. Your parents were good friends and old allies of Henry Bolingbroke before the chaotic events that crowned him. The few banquets Hal appeared, you were there. He only appeared at that ball a few days ago. You did have a dance with him. He spoke some, no more than polite subjects and small talk. But he seemed bored. Perhaps his father was breathing down his neck not to sneak out.

This was to be your husband?!! And this was to be the king?! The one not even his own father could be proud of?! Bound to until only Death did you Part!?

When you went to your private quarters, and no one was around, you went to your bed and screamed into your pillow.

You could already see your married life. Picture it in your head. Princess Y/N and Prince Hal, soon King Hal and Queen Y/N. The banquets would be a mess. Late into the night, there would be crowds of dirty, smelly people. Laughing with food still in their mouths and spitting and pissing all over the banquet halls. There would be thieves trying to reach to grab the jewels on you. Or try to grope you, only there would be no protection. So many drunkards vomiting all over the pretty stone hallways and throwing rocks through the tall windows.

Your waking vision of your future spiraled further in your head. You knew you would have separate quarters. You would have to go alone- you knew your husband's bed would have one if not two if not four ladies of the night to pleasure him until dawn. Or he would go into your room, bold and drunk with liquor and lust. He had the right to barge in when he wanted now.

It made you want to cry.

Three days later, there was a celebratory dinner at the castle for the betrothal announcement. All of you sat down. You were decked in a dark green dress and some jewelry given to you. To make you seem more regal. Not that it made you feel that way. You sat with your family, the King of England wrapped in his dark furs. The three younger Lancaster brothers all looked at you with small smiles- perhaps looking forward to having a sister-in-law. There was just one very crucial seat next to you left empty.

Of course, once the wine was poured and dishes were just set, in strode in, red leather jacket, hat, and all, none other than your intended.

You hated that he was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. An ivory face with tall cheekbones, a high forehead, and blue eyes. Tall and lean. He waltzed in with a slight smirk. His arms dangling back and forth so casually. A slight smile on his face.

“I apologize, I am late, I know!” he announced.

The king stood up, his hands over his thick, dark robe on his hips. Following him, everyone else rose up

“Harry-where have you been?! We were just about to dine at your betrothal dinner!” he chided.

“Only getting ready, father! I wanted to be more presentable-” he insisted, still standing.

“You will be punctual in the future, especially to show respect to your bride!” the king added on, gesturing to where you sat.

You only looked down at your plate. Bride, bride, bride. Once you thought of the word like a dream, like the word “fairy.” Something light and lilting- surreal and beautiful. Something you could attain too. But it only made your stomach curl.

You could feel Hal’s eyes, already on you. Then he walked forward and pulled out the chair next to you.

As the king sat down, all sat down.

Everyone began to eat. You barely could look at Hal. When you did, you found his eyes would drift up to see you. Then at once, you pulled yours down. Then your mother boasted of you.

“Our daughter- she was raised in a convent as any lady should be. The nuns all praised her as a good student- so quiet, ladylike, and diligent in her studies. She is learning all the dances done at parties. Oh- and her needlework is wonderful!”

You stood up, nodding.

“Yes! I sewed on little strawberries on my handkerchief! And I am making some new needlework of a pink rose, like the ones in the springtime-”

Your voice cut you off. Aware you were gushing so much. It wasn’t just the fact that the king watched. He was so used to his sons that a younger female presence was fascinating. King Henry the Fourth himself looked at you with a smile and soft eyes.

No- because Hal was listening and watching. you swallowed and looked next to you. Hal’s face was neutral. He leaned on the table, a mouth over his lip, scratching his chin. You saw him swallow a little and then look back down at his meal.

He didn’t like you. Didn’t even like you, you knew it. He was already thinking of how boring you were! You did have a cousin named Beatrice. She was the one who was climbing trees, and talking saucily to everyone and rebelling and speaking and laughing wildly. If only she wasn’t married by now! Then your family would throw her Hal’s way and they would be happy! If he had to marry at all, it should be someone like her! Not like…not like…not like you…He wouldn’t like you, either. You were sure. Calling you boring just because you prioritized manners and decency. Laughing at your sewing and the dresses you cherished so much.

“Oh, I am sure they are quite pretty, Y/N. And what think you, Harry?” the king asked.

Hal perked up.

“They…they should be.” he replied.

Copying what his father said .Of course. He took another bite and then he put a hand over his mouth again.

“Now- we must set a date for these children. What dates shall you say?” the king asked.

You and Hal shared a look and then perked up.

“We want enough time to prepare a decent wedding, of course. And to prepare them. Yet…the new Lancaster family must be secured through another heir, we know…” your father replied.

You could have thrown up the wine in your stomach. You looked down, not daring to see the look on Hal’s face.

“I agree. And my son must settle- therefore, I say two months from now shall give us enough time,” the king confirmed.

Two months?! It seemed so short. Not even time to come around to it.

You always wanted romance. To be wooed and won and courted. You dreamed of the day love would finally shine in some man’s eyes as he fell to his knees and begged for your heart and hand. Not thrown away to a scoundrel who didn’t like you.

“Now- don’t you be so worried, dear daughter,” the king consoled.

You looked up, and you saw him smile kindly at you.

“I remember the days I was nervous about my nuptials, too. Do not be afraid, lady Y/N- you will leave your family, but you will have a new one. Think of me more of a father here than king. You shall have me and three brothers who will look after you and be sure you want for nothing, my dear. And therefore…”

His eyes shot to Hal.

“If this rapscallion does anything to you before the marriage- hurts you. Breaks your heart-anything. You shall come to me and ask to end the betrothal, and you will have my blessing.”

Hal’s jaw dropped.

You gave the king a smile, a genuine one.

“Thank you, your grace.”

You went back down to your food, eating with more of a flourish. Hal then turned to you. It was the first few words he spoke directly to you that night. You braced for a bawdy joke about your wedding night from him, but there was none.

“We do have confits, here, my lady- would you like to try some?” he asked.

He offered you a golden bowl full of little sweets. They were tiny white spheres. He pressed the bowl your way as you peeked in.

“I’ve never had any,” you remarked.

“They are well, after dinner.“Here- try some,” he said,

You popped one in your mouth. And let out a sound of appreciation. They were very light and sweet, you nodded your head.

“Hm- very nice. And they are…sweet, my lord,” you commented.

You took another one as the servants arrived to clear your plates.

The next day was a formal announcement. It would be put on the doors of every church. And all of the court was gathered to watch with their rich cloaks and jewels glinting in the sun.

In Hal stumbled. How pale he looked- no doubt still hungover. He looked at you and he stopped. Then he stepped forward. You felt as if it was a wedding ceremony already and it made lightning

“We hereby announce an engagement- his majesty, Henry of Lancaster and the Lady Y/N will be married in two months time. Though they are already married in our eyes- we shall congratulate them on their union and the nuptials to follow,” announced the king to applause.

He turned to you both. He gave his son strict instructions, his eyes stern.

“Now Harry- kiss her and call her your princess,” ordered the king.

Hal looked down on you. He licked his lips, looking down at yours. Dear lord- was he about to kiss you before everyone! You instintually jerked a little away. He froze. Hesitated. He lowered his mouth and then set it tight shut again. Then your intended whispered in your ear.

“The cheek?”

You paused. It didn’t sound as bad as the lips.

“Yes,” you answered.

He gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek with it seemed half of England to witness.

This is began. Four long weeks of learning everything one had to know of being a princess. Learning French to converse with ambassadors, the history of the throne, the order of the servants, current matters, in addition to etiquette (which you took to very well) and so many things your head spun. Numerous formal public events where you had to stand by Hal and pretend you were a smiling, happy bride. Swallowing back what you really thought of him.

Only talking to him when required.

You didn’t doubt tha the didn’t like you.

No doubt he wishes he was off in Esatcheap, you thought. He doesn't even tolerate me.

All of your life, you did what you were told. It kept the peace. You never asked for much- just to be safe and content. Hopefully one day, maybe one day, fall in love with some nice gentleman and marry him. A nice, peaceful, happy life. But instead- you had him?! Why couldn’t it be John instead? Or some foreign prince! One who didn’t get drunk constantly!

One day, you had time to yourself. You sat there with your embroidery, putting the pink thread in and out of the white cloth. Glad it could relieve the stress of your mind. In walked Hal, he was a member of the family now and was welcome in and out of your home. You only looked up, acknowledging him.

“How are you, my lady?” he asked.

“I have been quite busy.” you answered.

He didnt have his cap, but kept on his red leather jacket and dark pants. His auburn curls that shone like amber when he walked by a ray of sunlight. And how…well fitting his jacket was on him. There was something stirring on you when you looked at him that you didn’t like. Attraction and yet also disgust.

“What did you…do this morning, my lady?” he asked. He fiddled with his hands placed on his lap.

He was forcing himself to spend time with you- you knew it. Just trying to be nice, pretending to be nice.

“Said my prayers, Ate breakfast. Wrote a few letters. I had a walk about…” you reported.

“That sounds very nice, Y/N,” he replied.

He sat up. Folding his arms, he leaned against the wall. He gave you a smile as he looked down on you, licking his lips. You had a guess as to what his thoughts were now. But here, without a thousand eyes watching over you, you could indulge in bluntness.

“And you, no doubt, enjoyed your morning with your whores from the London streets,” you sniped, pulling the pink thread through again. “We might as well be honest with each other if our parents want us to marry, Hal. Expecting fidelity from you is like expecting a fish to sprout wings and feathers. I’m saving myself the disappointment.”

You kept your eyes down. Ready to stitch in the next one when Hal said-

“I have not lain with whores…”

You turned your face to meet his, and found his eyes hardening. His smile dropped. He stood up from leaning against the wall. You found your own mouth opening a little, though the words struggled to come out.

“What…what did you say?” you asked. You weren’t sure if you heard it right.

“I…I have not lain with a whore in…five months, Y/N. I will tell you that…”

Guilt burned inside you. You turned your eyes down.

“Oh…I’m sorry…my mistake…” you wished earnestly. “I just know how your…reputation of…you know…”

“I cannot blame you that…” he commented.

You kept sewing, with a bit more fervor. You saw Hal out of the corner of your eye get closer to you, sitting beside you.

“You are always busy, my lady. Always doing something. Don’t think I do not notice how you study everything one must know to…to… I hardly see you smile.” he said.

You looked up at him.

“I have serious matters to bear- and I for one, take this upcoming marriage seriously…” you said. “If I must adapt to life in the castle, life as a princess-your princess- I will know how…”

“It is all you do…”

“It’s my duty to…it’s what…what it means to…to marry you…” you sputtered out.

You didn’t know why you suddenly felt so anguished, so sad. You saw the imprint of hte needle on your fingertips. They felt sore- how long had you sewn?

“You think I don’t…don’t take this marriage seriously?! That I don’t take you seriously?!” Hal asked.

You tossed it down and went to the window to look outside to the green trees and grey sky. Unable to face him, wrapping arms around yourself. Feeling tears in your eye ducts.

“Hal…you know I am not the kind of person you’d choose to be your wife…you know I am not the kind of lady you fancy…just go…I don’t care if you’re betrothed to her or buy her for the night, at least you’ll be happy with some other woman. Just…just admit it…You don’t like me, I will…I’ll just make you miserable, I’ll…spare you the disappointment. I’ll speak to your father- ask him to end it… just- go and end the betrothal and leave me in peace…”

You felt a few tears in you.

“My lady…you’re…you’re crying…” he commented.

You heard him walk behind you. You finally confessed it all.

“Hal…I wanted…I just wanted to..to have a good life. A normal, peaceful life. I dreamt of…of love and of being wooed and courted and romance…and now here I am, but…but…I’m…”

You thought of it. The upcoming days. Everything. Your life upheaving. Married and made royalty in months.

“I’m just…overwhelmed…” you confessed.

You felt tears go down your eyes. You flinched. You expected him to laugh at you. To scoff at you. He didn’t.

You turned around to him. He found your handkerchief, white with strawberries sewn on it, and handed it to you. You wiped off your face.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“The reason father wanted me to marry you was that you were always so good, so rule-abiding. He believed you would tame me. But I see you…you’re so afraid of pleasing others. You forget your own pleasures in life-haven’t you ever wanted to see life? Life outside of manors and castles? See real people? Not lords and ladies- What it is like?” he asked, leaning closer to you.

You looked up. He opened his hand. You accepted it.

“You look like you have never relaxed a day in your life! And for all your assumptions about me…have you ever seen a tavern, my lady?” he asked.

“I…I…uh…no. No, I haven’t,” you confessed.

“Then…how about a change of scene?” he asked. He gave a small wink. It made you a little breathless.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

You were dressed in some peasant clothes that fit you- a simple blue dress over a white shift and a brown belt and long sleeves. Simple, but pretty. You liked pretty things and wanted to feel a little even as a peasant. Hal in his usual red leather. You both rode out on his black horse He took you out to those streets. It buzzed with flies. You could smell meat and see the butcher’s wares of dead animals hung out everywhere. A tall dog wagged its tail and sniffed the ground. It went up to you and you petted it. He felt scruffy and soft and panted with a smile. Then he went about sniffing. Hal turned to you. He looked out. It was a steady crowd of people going about. You couldn’t help but look about you.

“Here, my lady…take my hand,” he offered, outstretching his.

“How come?”

“I don’t want you to get lost,” he explained.

You accepted it. Feeling it’s warmth as he walked you through. Many turned to see him and bowed to him. It amazed you. He looked around- you never knew so many just ordinary people. All about. Lvinig their lives- how fascinating they were.

He then smiled.

“This…this is the one. The one that’s my favorite!”

It was called The Boar’s Tavern. He helped you in. Already it was crowded with people. Wooden and smelling of roasting, rich, savory meats and of ale, of wine. People chatted everywhere. Children played about with balls made of cloth. Ladies sat on the laps of men and laughed.

In was a woman with an apron, a hat over her head, and fingerless gloves. She was short and had grey hair and bright, red cheeks from her bustling about.

“Aye! It is his grace, our Hal!”

He went up to her and kissed the side of her head.

The woman turned over and peeked at you, merely folding your hands before you.

“And my-who is this lady?”

You curtsied out of habit and placed your hands before you. Suddenly shy.

“Mistreress Quickly-this is the lady Y/N. She is…she is my betrothed. Lady Y/N, this is Misteress Quickly-she owns and runs this tavern.”

You looked about. To think- she, a lady, ran this whole business! It was hers! She wasn’t a whore or a wife, she was a woman of business!

“All of this is yours?” you asked.

“Aye, it is. A right and good establishment, if I say so.” Mistress Quickly boasted.

“It’s…it’s very…it’s cozy…and it looked fun!” you said.

“Oh, we do have some fun. Hal-pour her some sack. We will give her some and a meal, on the house! Especially one about to be Lady Hal- oh, to think I’d see the day!” she remarked.

She went over to gather up a fire for your meal and drinks. Men went about to lounge and laugh with each other. And about were women. Their shoulders exposed, and dresses cut to show more of their decolletage. Would they laugh at you? No…they were focused on drying their laundry. Or their eyes would turn up to you, nodding heads in acknowledgment before returning to their business. Misteress Quickly arrived and handed you both cups of wine or “sack.” It felt cheaper than what you drank at home-but stronger, burning down your belly.

Then, finally, one approached you. Her head tilted in curiosity. She had unbrushed blonde hair and a dirty dress that revealed her shoulders. She put her hands on her hips.

“Why- you’re the lady Y/N, ain’t you?” she asked.

“Yes, yes I am. Pleased to meet you. What is your name?”

“Eh, call me Doll,” she answered.

It was obvious-A whore! A real one! Flesh and blood! But even if she was one…you still owed her good manners. She looked down and then up at you.

“Why then- good to meet you too. I can tell already you’ve never had to put a toe here- but need not fear. We’re a merry bunch. Harmless. Everyone’s all laughter and drinks and all.,” she advised.

“That…that sounds nice…” you replied.

She went up to you, gently slapping your arm to hold it. Speaking already as if you were an old friend.

“But you don’t have to be so all ‘yes my lord’ and ‘no my lord,’ here. Some old goat bothers you, you shove ‘im off. Here…have yourself a drink…”

“I…I’ve never met a…a whore before…” you commented.

“Why, now you have. Don't be scared- I don’t bite,” she said.

Mistress Quickly handed you a cup. Hal was already teasing a serving man named Francis with how many times he could run about.

“Do you…like what you do?” you asked Doll.

“When the man’s nice, like my dear old Jack here” she gestured to Falstaff. “You get enough to get by.”

“Are you scared of having a baby?” you asked.

“You learn all the herbs and tricks to stop that. Most men want you to pleasure them with your mouth, anyways- can’t have a baby there,”

You looked down at your cup, warm with embarrassment. Then you asked further, lowering your voice.

“Have you…been with Hal?”

She let out a little a small smile. She didn’t lower her voice.

“Course I have! Yes-some of the women say he visited them. He’s a regular!” she told you.

“Doll, What was he…he like? Does it…does he hurt you?” you asked agian in a quite voice.

“Hurt! Oh no! He’s sweet as can be! He won’t hurt you- unless you ask him to give you a good slap as he’s ridin’ you!”

She laughed at your embarrassed look.

“I’m…I’m his intended so…I wanted to know, to be ready…” you explained.

“Oh! Nervous for your duty and all that!? Well, I’ll tell you- he is a good man. And he’ll be good to you when it’s your turn. Now…what do you think of the sack?”

You took another sip of your cup.

“It’s…it’s so good!”

“Try it with honey-it’s even better!”

She showed you a honey jar and poured a little in your cup. And yes- it was even better.

Then in stumbled an old man. So bulbous and a face so red he reminded you of a tomato. His white hair and great white beard, boasting to a crowd.

“Three men! Oh no- I tell you- it was five men, hm yes! Five men I defeated there!” he bragged to the dirited companions surrounding him, all with amused looks.

Then his eyes lit up, seeing you.

“Falstaff…this is Y/N”

“Yes, and when I saw those six men, I-”

The man called Falstaff paused his bragging and turned to see you. He put his hands over his hips to look at you. You curtsied again.

“Pleased to meet you, sir.” you said.

The old man, plumper than a peach with a long grey beard and a red face went to you. He looked you up and down. Then he talked-talked so much you didn’t have time to reply.

“Hmmm, ah, yes. This is the Y/N-the famous Y/N, lady Y/N. Yes-how much I see already. Her hands positioned to hold- the little smile, her posture-mmph, can tell already where she’s been. One of those convent girls. But if that is who will make Hal die on his wedding night, he will die smugly… I tell you, sweet wag-”

You turned your eyes down before the floor. Falstaff was talking so boldly of…le petit mort in a public space! But you should have guessed from the whores how open everything was here. Hal blushed and put his head down. You looked away. Falstaff released a large laugh at your reaction.

The old knight turned to Hal and patted his shoulder.

“I’ve conquered many a heart in my day. Oooo, old Jack Falstaff has ways with women. Hmm- the letters I’d send them. There is a Lady Ford and a Lady Page and with one letter to each, I’ll cuckold their husbands easily! So- here’s my advice, wag. Give her a sweet word, a letter -and she’ll be yours. I can show you the format- yes, yes. No woman can resist the love of the knight, Falstaff…I doubt even less this-”

He pinched Hal’s cheek.

“-Handsome, young prince here!”

He handed you the letters he planned on sending them. To your immense surprise, it was the same one only the names were switched. Before you could comment he got them again and folded them up, putting them in his pocket.

“Hmm- this calls for celebration- for Hal’s marriage and my seduction! Francis! Come over, lad! Give some sack before I die!”

He waddled over to where the cup bearer sat.

“Should we tell him? The letters are the same?” you asked.

“I would rather sit by and watch and laugh at him!” Hal replied.

Then in came a young man with dark hair and dark eyes-slender and with a triangular nose.

“Oh here! A lady is here?! A new lady-” he said.

“Why, Poins-here-I would like you to meet her. This is Lady Y/N.”

You made your curtsies again. He only gave you a cheeky smile.

“Oh, well- tis time!” he muttered.

Hal shot to him with wide, nervous eyes.

“Poins I-”

Poins then swooped you into his arms. You let out a little shreik from the feeling.

“Hal! I have your maid! And now she is mine!” he teased.

So light and fun, you did not feel any fear. He caught you and lifted you above him with his strong arms. You were surprised at his strength- he hoisted you up and began running through the tavern. People laughed as Poins ran about with Hal chasing him and even you couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Oh, Poins, you dog! Let me have her!” Hal cried.

Quickly he ran, you squealed from the feeling. Up high and dangling as Poins ran off. He went to a quick corner in one end and set you down. After seeing that he was hidden, he turned to you.

“He will never admit it-but the man adores you, Y/N!” he confided.

Your jaw dropped.

“He…he what! Since…the bethrothal?” you asked.

“Before that- for several months since he met you! Won’t even touch Doll anymore!”

Shock flooded your system. The words earlier- they made sense.

Poins put up a hand.

“ I swear he’s like some doe-eyed lover in a romance for you! He could hardly speak to you in your bethrothal- you make him nervous, Y/N! He wanted nothing more than you since when you first met! And now he sighs and pines. He blushes like a maiden! And seems half a man whenever your name is brought up! Y/N- And I must tell you something!”

He leaned closer.

“Long before the betrothal was a whisper…there was one night. It was dark and four in the morn. My sweet honey lord was quite drunk. He would sigh into his cup. I had to be fetched to drag him to a bed. Do you know what he was muttering? He cursed into his cup, lamenting “Y/N- sweet creature- Oh, Y/N! Curse the day Fate gives you to another!’ before he fell to the floor. Dear lady-show him a little mercy! Or be clever- Turn this prince into your servant when you can!”

You had no words. Your eyes are wide. Of course…this could be a lie. Just something he was making up to flatter you. To prank you. But, something inside of you was telling you it was truth…if so, why would he lie to you? What would Poins gain?

Then Hal swept in, his face bright red.

“Please, enough! Are you hungry, my lady!? I think you should to dinner- there’s going to be music you might like.” he suggested.

“Of…of course, Hal,” you replied.

He turned around, his eyebrows going up as you used his nickname. The one his friends here called him.

As you reached over, you clasped his hand. Hal went still for a moment, seeing that you eagerly put yours in his. Feeling your touch. Then he went on.

As you ate, you noticed women left with men. They held the hands of their customers and led them to their rooms. Then the moans and grunts and the rhythms of something hitting the walls not long after. Wet sounds, too- without shame of their volume. You swallowed the urge to gasp and looked down in embarrassment. Hal only gave a smirk as he ate on.

“Are they…” you turned to Hal.

“They aren’t reading, I can tell you that…” Hal laughed as he picked up some meat and chewed it in his mouth.

“They’re so…so loud…so…so shameless, I never….Wouldn’t they be embarrassed?” you asked.

Yet part of you…you would never admit it…the sounds also…you liked them. You…envied them. And with Hal so near. His leather just brushed against your arms.

“When one finds pleasure here, they don’t feel ashamed of it. They just enjoy it.”

“Isn’t it…sinful?” you asked.

“Sinful for how their bodies react when they touch each other? How God made them? If they agree to it, it cannot be, I think…”

Both of you finished your meals. The sounds of their pleasure became dimmer. You heard people get out instruments and play them. There was starting to be laughter. A gentleman with a large and red nose- Bardolph, went up and greeted Hal. As Hal went up to welcome his friend, you suddenly felt a tug on your arm.

There was a gentleman at least ten years your senior. He had sharp eyes and his strong arm pulled you closer. He gave you a wide, lascivious smile as he handed you several coins.

“Here, girl…” he said.

“Sir…what is this?” you asked, looking at the coins.

“This, this is for you, of course, my dear.”

“For me?” you repeated.

It then hit you why.

He grabbed your arms.Panic surged through your system. He tried to drag you off to the nearest dark corner, but you forced your feet still. Tugging at him, struggling to break off. You managed out of his arms, and then he grabbed your hand. But you stayed still. A glimpse at Doll Tearsheet and your heart was racing.

“Sir- there’s been a mistake! I’m a lady! I am not a whore!” you stated.

“Ah, the whore thinks she can refuse, eh?! Why else would Misteress Quickly bring a new beauty to The Boar’s Head!” he asked.

“I’m just visiting, sir! Doll is right over there! And plenty of others could use it more than me!” you cried. Glancing towards the other women.

Doll’s head perked up and she sensed something amiss. Even the whores looked among each other in seriousness once they realized what was happening.

“This money’s not for Doll, it’s for you. You would be a delight in bed tonight!”

Doll touched the arm of the prince by Bardolph, alerting him.

You were ready to fight him, ready to run, then in came Hal. He whipped out his dagger and pointed it to the man’s nose. He jumped off. Doll ran forward and pulled you away, pulling you into a protective hug.

“Leave her be- you miscreant!”

The villain held up his hands and backed off slowly.

“Why, your little grace..what else have you to do with this woman? I was about to pay for her, like any other man here. Why do you act thus?”

The music paused and eyes turned. Amused and worried, as to what would happen next. Would a fight break out? Would there be more men who thought they could be your “customers?” You cowered further into Doll, clinging to her. Oh dear God, how bad this was getting!

Your heart raced. Hal glanced at you. You looked at Hal with wide eyes. He then unsheathed his dagger and looked at the man. Then Hal made his reply.

“Because she is my whore for tonight!”

The earth stopped turning. You could hear your fast heartbeat and your jaw dropped. Hal went up to you. With great strength, he pulled you from Doll’s arms to his. In a second, before you could process it, he sat down on the nearest surface and pulled you to his lap. You made a small gasp at the feeling. He wrapped an arm possessively around you.

Then he looked thunderously at the tavern. They were silent as he made a declaration.

“I bought her company all this evening. Tonight, she is mine. And if any man here thinks they can dare touch what is mine, their head will be lobbed off under order of the Prince of Wales- is that clear!?”

He nodded his head, and the other wide-eyed men swallowed and took note.

Mistress Quickly scurried towards the musicians.

“Play! Play! Oh- give us a song! Something merry!” she insisted.

They played and the tension relaxed. People went back to their drinking and their business. But you remained sitting on Hal.

“Play along,” he whispered into your ear.

But sitting on his lap… It was making you…feel something. Something you couldn’t quite name. Your heart was beating even harder. Your body felt like it was with fever. And as for between your legs, it was stirring, something, something you had never felt before-and you wanted more of it. He was right there, beneath you. You felt his hands go around to your back.

Others were siting at Hal’s table. You both glanced to see whores with their customers- they were kissing.

He eyed you and them. Then, he touched touched your chin. He asked.

“A kiss for me, my beauty?”

Enough so that no one would suspect anything.

“I, uh-yes,” you replied.

Then he pulled you in for a kiss. A deep, passionate kiss. Feeling his soft lips, the wine on his breath and tasting rich, like you could become drunk from him-his touch alone was making you feel intoxicated already. You tugged at him, and he kept a hand at your back to secure you. You sighed from it. Groaning from it. Then he released. His pupils were wide and both of you were catching your breaths.

“Hal…”

You then gathered your skirt in your hands and looked down. What scared you was how much you liked touching him. How…how wonderful this felt. How…nice. Something between your legs was stirring. It was getting wet and you sensed it was not with urine or menstrual blood.

Hal then smiled at his companions at the table and raised a glass to them.

“Y/N…my pretty whore…to the jewel of the Boar’s Head, Y/N-and a jewel she will be in my bed tonight.”

They cheered as they raised their cups. They had a deep drink. You were handed one and drank too.

“Yes-uh, yes, my lord, I will be-uh, very happy to pleasure you tonight,” you muttered in agreement, before having a sip.

He reached his hand down yours. Then he lifted up your hand to his lips and kissed you on your pulse, keeping a steady hold on it as he lowered.

Then they began to boast of how the wine caskets were being opened and how much they could drink in one go. Laughing, they ran over to sample it.

Hal turned over to you. He had a half-smile

“My lady…your pulse is racing very fast…are you afraid of me?” he asked, though with a touch of cheekiness.

“No,” you answered. But you were afraid of how much you liked this.

“It’s only when I touch you, is it?” you asked.

“Yes…yes it is…” you confessed breathlessly.

He made a small laugh and you could have sworn he was blushing.

“It’s only your body reacting to me. It’s how God, how nature made us- nothing more… Can you continue the pretense? For a little bit?” he asked.

“Yes, Hal, I can,” you said.

He then slid you off of his lap to be on the seat next to him. Once when you thought you could cool your senses, he turned close to you, touching your leg as you were near and wrapping his other arm around you.

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

“I’ve…I’ve never had better, sweeter wine…I haven’t drank too much of it, have I?” you asked.

“If you’re still walking safely, then the answer is no, Y/N,” he replied.

Then the music got to a gig. People got up, getting partners.

“Are they going to dance?” you asked.

“Yes, they are!” he confirmed.

“You took his hands, smiling and getting up.”

“Dance with me Hal- do you know how to?” you asked.

“Yes, yes I do!” he answered.

You led him over as couples gathered around. They managed to kick their steps in time and though he still had trouble with his feet, he was smiling- relaxed. Far more relaxed than he was at any court ball.

At one point you had to turn around. But all you could see was him. Your bodies moved so well together- almost in sync here. You could look at him and do the steps fluidly. Feeling his touch, looking into his eyes. He held your hand…something was different. He kept a hand to your back warm and splayed. It never felt this nice.

Then…it ended. And he was still holding your hand. Catching your breaths and looking into each other's eyes. Hesitantly, he let go.

“Did you like that, my lady?” he asked.

“I…I liked it. Very much.”

You wanted him. You wanted his touch. More of him. He placed you back on his lap as he sat down right next to a table. He nestled into your neck.

“I’ll tell them I’m taking you with me to the palace and then escort you home,” he whispered.

“People are…are leaving more, now…” you commented. The crowds were thinning. The noise was calming down.

“Why…it’s getting late…a tavern has two lives. The celebration and then the dimming, the seriousness, when all is dark and gloomy.”

“It’s still…it’s peaceful… I do like it Hal…”

His lips moved to speak and then froze. He touched your cheek tenderly.

“Y/N…” he muttered.

“What is it?”

His softened to you.

“You’re…you’re a beautiful woman…and…and a good woman, too…” he confessed breathily, earnestly.

“I am your…your whore…” you said aloud, aware there were others. You nervously glanced around and then he held your chin back to face him.

“Y/N, I don’t care what you are now. I just want you to kiss me again.”

You did, feeling him. His mouth. His touch. He pressed himself towards you- to keep you close again. You heard him sigh into it. Then lips releasing- yet it felt too soon. He whispered your name. His voice. And it was not pretense.

“Sweetest of ladies…my dearest…”

Before you knew it, he laid you down on that table. Your breath was knocked out of you. You felt your back hit the wood. He crawled on top of you on the table. Your bare legs peeking from your skirt being hiked up from your position, he touched them, feeling your skin up and down. But his weight didn’t touch you and his hands feeling your thigh made you feel even dizzier. He laid another kiss on you. You couldn’t catch your breath. You couldn’t believe How…good all of this felt. And your folds were wetting already, and not with urine or menstrual blood. He kissed you again. His hips touched yours and you felt your legs go up in instinct. A truly whorelike moan escaped you. You never felt…like this before. This climb up, this ecstasy.

This…need.

He let go of his lips. Then pulled off of you. But The cold air hit you like a shot. But it was still stirring inside of you. This desire…screaming, turning inside you.

You wanted him.

“I’m sorry- I was carried away,” he muttered. “Y/N…I’ll…I’ll stop,”

“No!” you hissed.

He paused, his eyes wide. You went to him and touched his face. You swallowed deeply.

“I…I didn’t want you to stop,” you confessed.

“What?” he mumbled, tilting his head.

The words flew out of you. You gathered yourself on his lap. Feeling your legs wide, the cool air against your soaking, throbbing arousal. You wanted it complete- you wanted him. You touched his face, speaking softly.

“Hal…I don’t want you to stop…what…what is it like? When you lie with a woman? With a whore? How does it feel? I want to know Hal…I want to…I want you to…to do the act on me. Take me…you are my husband already they say…then show me what is it like to bed you. What will it be like to be your wife? Please Hal-they think I’m your whore anyway- so bed me. Tonight. Now. Show me what it is like…” you begged quietly.

His jaw dropped. He pulled you closer. Another hand wrapping around you close. His voice was husky and his eyes gentle.

"Y/N...tonight...You want me... and you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered.

You felt his breaths shudder. Then he took your hand. He downright pulled you to Mistress Quickley in a corner counting money.

"Is there a spare room?" he asked.

She pointed upstairs.

"For you? The second one you see up there," she explained with a nod.

He paid her. Then, he took your hand and led you up. Your heart was racing, going right up. He opened the door and let you in.

It was a wooden room. Cozy with plenty of space. Humble chairs. A window with brown crossed latched. And a large bed with a feathered mattress and four posters right when you opened the door. Moonlight shone through the windows. There were a few lit candles. Enough to see, but enough it was dim, private, romantic.

Hal, far too tall for the doorframe, ducked under it with a fluid ease.

“Now…at last, we can be alone…and at last…you will be mine in every way…” he husked.

He pushed the door shut as he kept looking into your eyes. Then He grabbed your face and he kissed you. Then he took his hands and put his hips to yours. It caused friction that made you gasp. It nudged a sensitive part of you and you shuddered.

"Is it locked? If...if someone walks in?" you muttered, remembering yourself.

"Will they disturb the Prince of Wales, now? I will send them away..." he whispered.

You felt his fingers going up from your sides, then to touch your waist, gripping it.

"I have someone more important with me now," he said with a smile.

He sat on the bed and pulled you to sit on his leg. You let out a small sound at the feeling. His hand went up your skirt, finding your thighs.

“Spread your legs my dear…let me help you…I will make you ready…” he whispered.

He bunched up your skirt, so you felt it gather around your hips. His hands opened your legs so that you felt his knee right against your bare folds.

The smooth leather of his pants hit against your most private area- wet and sensitive. You felt it…brush against him, the material of his pants. You let out a gasp. So sensitive- stimulated. But you wanted more.

“Do you like this feeling?” he asked.

You nodded. He guided your hips. It moved back, and then forth- making friction and a chill ran against you. You let out a small gasp.

“H-Hal! That…that feels…feels so good…”

He moved your hips to grind against his thigh.

“There….now darling…ride it like a horse-there,” he said.

He guided your hips to grind against his leg. You placed your hands over his broad, strong shoulders. It was pulling you close. The tension- it was making you gasp. Sounds coming out of you that you never thought you could make-touching him. Even with his codpiece on, you could tell something was stirring inside him too. He gave you another kiss as you rode his leg. Then his hands went over to your blouse. He touched your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Are you alright, my lady?” he asked with a smug smile.

You let out a moan as an answer. He grabbed you. He kissed you more as if he was drunk and you were ale. Still clothed entirely and already a mess for each other. His voice low, he said into your ear.

"When I join with you, I'm going to make you cry out louder with pleasure than any whore here ever did. And they will know who gives this to you- your lord. And when I'm inside you, there will be more blessings between your legs than any church could give me…”

He kissed you again. His hand moved up to cup your breasts. He moved them around, feeling them. He moved, a finger playing with the string tie that held it together- your shift beneath he began to unlace the strings of your bodice. You paused, the cool air of your chest as it was lowering for him.

“I didn’t say you could stop…keep going. I’m going to undress you slowly- I want to enjoy every inch of you revealed to me…” he ordered.

You kept grinding.

Your blouse was loose, showing your shoulders. He pressed a kiss onto them that made you sigh out another little groan.

His hands greedily remove your garments. He took off your belt,. The little fingerless gloves joined it’s pile. Then finally his hands went to the collar of your dress and shift, already loose. He pulled your dress over your head. Then, in only your shift, he tugged it down until it pooled over your hips. Your bare breasts and stomach before him. You felt his eyes see you, all of you. You chilled from the cold. But he only smiled. He wrapped both arms around your waist and cupped your cheek. He looked down-seeing your breasts rising with your excited breaths. He licked his lips at Your stomach and Your hips.

“Beautiful…just beautiful…how lucky I am to enjoy you for all of my life now,” he said.

Then he kissed you at the nape between your neck amd shoulder. You sighed into it.

"H-Hal..." you voiced out.

You held onto him.

“What are you thinking, my love?” he asked.

“That…this duty feels…feels nice…That I…I’m going to be your wife and…I should…perform my duty to you…” you voiced out.

He put his hands on your hips and stopped your grinding. Then he took and you half threw you on the bed. He went over to you getting on top of you. You felt his fingers then reach one digit to your folds. You let out a small cry.

"You should know of passion, not duty, in our bed. You should know the ecstasy I can give you every night from now on. would you like that?” he asked.

"Y-Yes...my lord, yes Hal.."

You gasped feeling it. He removed his fingers, slick with your juices. He began to undo his jacket- your wetness grazing the leather and making a small stain. Then removed his black shirt. He went up to you.

He took your hand. He traced the wrist gently with his finger. Then he kissed it.

"There is my little sweetling...such a good little wife she will be…doing everything for her husband…and she will be rewarded…”

You got him, your nails digging into his warm back. He slid a finger back into you. He got it out, then back in. You clutched onto him- feeling him against the lips between your legs as he swirled around. You ground against it, finding even more pleasure.

"Oh...oh Lord....Hal…your fingers are so…so-!”

"Do you like that, my sweet lady, do you enjoy being ruined this way?"

"Yes...yes...more, Hal- I want more!"

“Sweet little bird…so eager, so willing. Willing to please- to let me corrupt her. What would those nuns think of you now, hm? What would they know of what we have here, now? I will enjoy having you- and I will have you every night. How does that sound for Duty, hm?”

He kissed and slid a tongue over yours. He slid another finger, pumping in and out. Your legs had to widen to accommodate him. You made so many noises.

You felt so hot, you felt his weight, shifting on top of you. To kiss you. To adore you. His snaking body grinding against you-he kissed you like you were food. His need. His ache. His hair fell softly through him. He cupped your cheeks and kept kissing you again.He groaned as he kissed

He let go with a smirk on his face. You felt something bubbling inside you- going up.

"I should have…should have taken you on the table...before all of them to watch-"

“Better late than never,” you breathed out, both of you melting into small laughter.

But right before it climbed too high up, he removed his fingers, slick with you. You took his body in. His beautiful, lean body. How soft yet strong he was. So many muscles in just his arm alone. His chest- how beautiful it was. How…broad he was, too. And not just his chest that felt large.

He removed his codpiece and slid off his pants easily. Your eyes went down to that cock-hard and eager and huge. Twitching. You had to swallow a moan from it-how was it going to fit in you? He then slid you down the bed-and he remained standing.

“Yes- look at me, darling. It might hurt a little, sweet wife. I will be slow,” you voiced.

But you were so eager-so desperate-you had to be with him. How warm he felt now- skin against skin. He kissed you once more time, his hips teasing what was to come. Yet he was still remaining standing.

"Here...are you ready, my dear?”

“Yes, yes I am! My lord, please! Please take me!”

You felt his cock teasing against your entrance. He began to graze his hands up and down your thigh. touching up and down them. He looked at your pussy and smiled. Then, positioning your legs already to be between his head. He began to trust in you by sinking in. Inch by agonizing inch, he slowly vanished in.

You let out a cry-a whimper. You had never been filled like this.

“ Oh my god-Hal!”

He groaned, easing him last bit of his cock inside you. The slight pain then began to melt.

“Do you want me to stop?”

The pain was gone-fizzled to pleasure. You were…getting used to him.

“No…no…please…please keep going. Please-”

He backed and then thrust.

“Oh! Oh- yes-yes, Hal-please.”

The began- thrusting slowly inside you. Still standing and you laying down. His hips rocked back. Creating such friction, such heat, like none you have felt. He was groaning hard. Each thrust was better than the last one.

All you could say was a prayer. Simply repeating “please-yes-oh, oh my god-please, Hal, please-yes, there, Hal-”

You were used to it, then he increased the pace. He hissed out your name. He held you still so you had to take all of him- not that you would complain. You felt your voice rising. All you saw was him, felt was him. He was nailing you-he was keeping you right into the end of the bed as he stood. So deep and full were his penetrations. Then his hand slid.

“Ah- yes-Here..my little rose has a rosebud inside her-” he said.

He found your nub, and then began to strum it with his thrusts. Even more pleasure whirled in you- it felt even better.

"Oh! Oh-gods! Hal! Yes! Yes-please-Yes! There!”

"Yes-cry my name, tell all of Boars-nrgh-all of Boar's Head-nrsh-who your lord is..."

Flesh slapped against flesh as he increased his pace. You weren’t sure now- you slide back and forth, whimpering with pleasure.

“You-are-mine-now-nrgh-Gods and-Fuck-yes your lord-yes-gives you-gods-yes,this-fuck-your lord always-always satisfies you-”

His pace increased. He was grunting, moaning. You now understood why the noises came from those rooms-you were making them yourself. He pounded and pounded you into the bed.

“Hal…Hal-something-something in me-it’s…it’s going up…” you whimpered.

He kept strumming you.

“You’re close-close my dear-it’s going to overwhelm you- yes- it’s-it’s me too- give into it-give into it- cry ou t- let it happen-yes-fuck-yes-yes-yes, now, my dear- come now- come now!”

Then finally, you felt it-pleasure bursting, overwhelming you. It hit you so suddenly, so hard, you let out a shout that echoed. You cried out-

“Yes-Hal-Hal!”

With a groan and a thrust, brought on by your own brink, he came. You felt him pump inside you. It was probably lucky to have the wedding in two months- if a child came from this, none but you would know.

He paused, collapsing down onto you. Only to hold you, nestling you close.

“Hal…I…I have no words…” you whispered.

“You cannot ask to break this betrothal…not after what we’ve shared…” he breathed. He then went up to see your face. “Please, Y/N…I…I…”

“I love you too, Hal,” you replied.

He smiled, kissing you. A deep breath of relief through him. He positioned himself there on the bed, holding you for only a bit.

“We…we will have to get home soon…we…we will get in trouble…” you said.

“What sweet trouble it was….but I will see you home safe…” he replied.

He redressed you and you helped redressed him. When it seemed the tavern was asleep without witnesses about the main room, he held your hand and led you back to his horse outside. Eagerly you both galloped, but you laughed as the wind tickled you. You found riding so close to him comfortable now and leaned back against him. An embrace as each landing of the steed’s hooves brought you closer. Then you were brought back home.

He was there at the entrance, knowing the servants would escort you to separate rooms, separate beds. He took your hand and then kissed it. A goodnight promise.

“Sleep well, my lady, he wished.

“Shall I see you tomorrow?” you asked.

“Every day,” he replied with a smile that matched yours.

#prince hal #prince hal x reader #prince hal fanfiction #prince hal imagine #prince hal x you #henry v imagine #tom hiddleston #hollow crown henry v #the hollow crown #hiddlesedit #william shakespeare #angst with a happy ending #prince hal smut #hiddlesverse #the hollow crown henry iv #henry iv #henry iv part 1 #tom hiddleston characters

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smolvenger · 3 months

Text

A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter Nineteen (Loki x fem! Reader Hiddlesverse Crossover Series, A Court of Thorns and Roses AU)

Series Summary: Sarah J Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series reimagined with Tom Hiddleston's various characters- Especially the events in the second book: A Court of Mist and Fury. England. 1885. You are dying of tuberculosis right before your upcoming wedding to the Lusty Vicar of Aldwinter, Will Ransome. As you lay on what could be your deathbed, the god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you in time for the wedding...if you spend a week of every month with him.

Chapter Summary: You complete your revenge.

Word Count: 7K (I REALLY wanted to get to the part at the end)

Warnings: mentions of sex, masturbation, and cheating (I portray the canon cheating in The Essex Serpent as bad and both Will and Cora deserving of punishment, and if you don't like that, don't read this), Supporting Women's Wrongs. Violence, Loki being Loki. Mentions of religion.

Series Masterlist

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

On Wednesday, you went out with your mother to shop for Cora’s birthday present in the next larger town. There were times you both enjoyed going there for little outings more than the sleepy white and brown town by the seaside could afford. You stopped at the first boutique for women you found.

Clothes, yes, clothes would do for the gift. You recalled what she would wear. Grey coats and no corset when she was researching and running about. The grey dress for parties. You recalled the bright red dress that forever drenched your nightmares in infamy.

Women walked about with their hats and little purses dangling. Mother got into chatting with a shop-girl about what was on sale. The bell over the door would ring as shoppers entered and exited. Roses blossomed in vases amongst the goods. Walking about, you noticed several lacy gowns full of little ornaments on mannequins.

Not those dresses. Nothing with frills and feathers. Cora didn’t like that. She wouldn’t wear it. Your secret goal was to find the perfect attire, be it a dress or a coat or even a skirt or blouse that Mrs. Seaborne would not resist adorning. You had to keep looking.

Sometimes there was a slight hint of masculinity in what Cora wore….like Lady Sif... You did miss your trainer and somewhat friend- she had a heart beneath her sometimes aloof and brash nature…

Wait a minute- how hypocritical you were! Admiring Lady Sif and feeling embittered to Cora! Should you do this at all? No, no you had to gather yourself. Focus. You pushed the thought away to your mind.

It took some searching, but you managed to find your Trojan Horse for the gift. It was the perfect one for Cora. A new grey coat with no worn frays or signs of use. Just like the one she always wore. Practical, but not frumpy, comfortable, and subtly pretty. Only this one was new, freshly made with hardly any tears. Perfect for running about in the fields and forests and muck, searching for Serpents in the wood and the Serpent in your fiancee’s trousers.

You bought it at once. You both traveled right back home. Refreshing yourself with tea and sandwiches, you picked up your new package and brought it to your room. Taking out the coat from its box, you laid it down over your bed. A body, a ghost, a figure lying down in the realm of either death or sleep.

Cora, Cora, Cora, Mrs. Seabrone, the widow, her, her, her- The equal half of the pair that ruined your life. You had done your subtler strikes against Will. It was now time to strike against her.

You went to your desk. Getting out a journal, you tore out a blank scrap of paper.

Grabbing a pen, you wrote five words down in big, clear letters.

Once it dried, you folded it up.

The coat’s sleeves had two sides of the fabric. She wouldn’t see it if it was inside out. For it would be in the fabric itself.

You got out scissors, your needle, and grey thread. Then you cut open a hole in the sleeve. Folding the paper up carefully, you tucked it inside. Then you got your needle and thread and patched it back up so the scrap of paper was concealed inside the sleeve.

Yes, your powers could have done that. But you were determined to do it with your hands, with real effort- it was freeing, satisfying.

You then laid the dress back out.

You held out your hand. Concentrating harder than you ever did before with your magic gifts, you waved it over the coat.

The dress lay untouched, like normal.

You then retracted your hand.

Loki cut in.

'My pet, why didn’t you do that with your dear Lusty Vicar?'

' He never was ‘my’ vicar….why have him when I have a god and a prince as my husband instead?' you teased.

‘Well…I cannot blame you for that.’

You heard a small chuckle of his. You settled the dress back into the box.

' But…you are right, Loki! Will got all those letters, all the things that will come up to him. And there is one more thing I shall do to him. But it’s…it’s not like this. They were equal in this…so I should!'

The next day was conveniently a Thursday. The time Will went to the lake to pleasure himself over his mistress in the ocean or lake or stream or whatever body of water it was, as Loki confided to you. Or swim bare, as Will once confided to you in his times past. When you were so happy, in love, that as you smiled and looked at him in adoration, Will would only look at you with secret boredom and annoyance.

He was doing it again. He was bare. And if he was touching himself or swimming or both, it didn’t matter. He would be away from his house again.

That would be his mistake.

You hurried to the vicarage, not wanting to take your time before anyone could see you. You scurried up the stairs into his room. Finding his clothes where they were kept in his shelves and wardrobe. With every item, you placed your powers on each one. Each dark sweater you once smiled over, each white shirt you once lusted over, each tan coat hat made you stifle a giggle, every green vest, pants, down to one last sock.

Then, before he would finish, you hurried out and back. Not leaving a trace. You’d have to wait until Cora put her own on. But no matter what he wore, odds are, it would work.

It felt good. Deliciously good.

The next day, the church would be empty. You hurried to the little safe. Again, you took out some money. Again, you snuck it in your shoe. Again, you hurried home and put it in a blank envelope. Your magic that night would slip it under Cora’s doorstep. As you had your alibi of sitting in the parlor reading the Bible, you could do it while looking at Second Corinthians and not outside.

Consistency was key. The council and congregation had to realize there was a certain gap each week in what they pledged to give and what was recorded as then. Once they saw the gap that was Will’s responsibility and someone found that exact amount in Cora’s possession….no matter how much Will insisted on his innocence, there would be evidence.

And no one would suspect you. For you were now the “Miracle” woman. Seemingly blessed by God. No thoughts in your pretty head except becoming a rectory bride and nothing else.

The next morning, it hit you that you had to keep up appearances and then some. Since you were “blessed” by God, you would be a blessing. That would make them all like you even more.

When you first returned after the disaster that occurred with Grendel, you would walk about. Feeling like a shelled piece, your center torn out and thrown away. You would notice the looks on their faces. Once, they had a silent mixture of pity and disgust for you being “ruined.” But now, after the miracle, the suspicious town who thought anything and everything they saw was a part of something monstrous, magical, and greater than themselves be it in terror or awe… Now, they liked you.

And you had to make them like you even more.

You looked up at your parents at breakfast over your poached eggs.

“Oh! How are the Crawfords doing? I hear Mrs. Crawford is fond of flowers, may I go pick some for her?” you asked.

Your mother smiled approvingly, asking of the neighbors back home.

“With the Trickster god about, not in the woods! You must be careful, but you may buy some,” advised your mother.

With a smile, you went out, got to the flower shop, and bought a pretty bouquet of daffodils for Mrs. Crawford. You called on in time for tea and she cooed over the gift.

“Oh my- what a sweet girl you are, Miss Y/L/N!” she exclaimed.

She then revealed her hobby- collecting cookbooks and recipes.

“Oh- please tell me the recipe for making those little cakes, Mrs. Crawford! I’d like to surprise the Sunday School class for this week! Poor little dears, they deserve something nice!” you said.

She scribbled down the recipe that she learned from her mother, and then handed it to you.

For the next week, your free hours were spent building up a rapport. Patting children on the head, smiling at strangers, doing little acts of charity. It was better to stretch it out rather than pile it on thick in one go. It would seem natural.

One day, Martha, Mrs. Seaborne’s maid, was walking out with the widow’s little boy. In her pockets, there were pamphlets. You recognized it as from a magazine that was notorious in town for its liberality. He was doing his best to keep up with his chubby little legs, one tall arm reaching up to hold onto Martha’s. You stopped and greeted them like friends.

“Oh, hello there! Tell your mistress I cannot wait for the party! And how well he looks! What is his name?”

“Oh, hello there! And he- you have never been introduced! His name is Franklin, but we all call him Frankie,” explained Martha.

You bent your knees down to greet the little boy. Though you addressed him, his eyes would flitter anywhere but yours. They only flicked to you as you smiled, exuding warmth. Then you got back up to greet Martha. You asked her a little about the pamphlets. She rattled on about some bold, interesting, and brave ideas about slums and the treatment of the poor. So much, Frankie let go and was about to waddle away. She then gasped, out of her own spell, and gathered the boy back up.

“Already such a handsome lad! And so well-behaved!!” you cooed.

Martha bounced him a little and smiled at you.

“Perhaps you and the Reverend shall be blessed and there shall be a third in the vicarage soon!” Martha replied.

Loki’s voice rang in your head.

‘There better not be.’

You made sure to have such interactions with someone at least once a day. It was a little fun though. One benefit of being a clergy spouse was the opportunity to get to know others and do little acts of kindness for the community. To think, even before you were betrothed to Will, you could have done it. Done things like these for others, only with no plan behind it. Perhaps you would in Asgard.

You questioned Luke on his doings and said you would pray for him. You gave a beggar in town a few coins and he returned the favor by showing you an abandoned church. You told Mr. Banks to please stop drinking in excess and gave Mrs. Banks money for her pains. You smiled at grumpy old Mr. Cracknell despite his sneers. You gave flowers and gifts and cooked and baked for everyone- now they would all love you.

You once overheard two ladies smile at you. As you left, you heard their whispers- “She truly is a Blessed Lady!”

All would respect their miracle woman. See her as perfect for their Lusty Vicar. For his house and bed and ministry. At least, sweet and innocent. And at most- the Perfect Ideal of a Woman blessed by God Himself. And never suspect the secrets inside you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The evening arrived for Cora’s birthday party. You put on a nice dress of velvet and navy blue. This was partially for Stella, so even if it wasn’t the bohemian style your friend had a weakness for, it still was apt you should don her color. As you continued to get ready, you found your hands shaking as you put on your last bit of jewelry.

Gathering your gift placed in a box and wrapped up in ribbon, you headed to her house. Arriving at the front door, you lifted your hand to knock. Part of you hesitated. Your hand floated above in a trembling mess, curled and crumpled, as if to squeeze yourself into reality.

The old hesitation seeped in like tea levees in a forgotten cup of water, one that was once boiling and now grew tepid with each passing second. Should you do this? The coat was already in your hands, too late to be ungiven…should you just give it to her like a decent person and not use its magic? Should Cora be punished?

What if your father was right, and it was just “silly jealousy”?

Were you just bitter about Cora’s rejection of traditional feminine norms? Did it shock you to the point where you were upholding traditions blindly? Criticizing her for being an unfeminine woman? Feeling anger in her brashness and her boldness, because you projected your insecurities on her unfairly? You felt in your soul women should be considered equal to men….yet here you were, your heart turned against another woman! An unfeminine woman! An unconforming woman! Must you be a hypocrite and tear her down?

Not to mention her past. Cora’s husband hurt her and beat her. What a nightmare that must have been!

That was one odd similarity between you both- you loved two men, two cruel men- Mr. Seaborne and Will. And while Will never once raised his hand to hurt you, he didn’t have to.

And it must have been uneasy- having one little son who it was rumored was an “odd” child. And part of you…admired her wanting to pursue a passion, of bravely entering a male-dominated field, and wondered at the discrimination she must have experienced…

Your mind was reeling as you knocked on the door.

The maid, Martha, opened it. She greeted you kindly. “Ah there! Miss Y/L/N! Welcome in! Cora- come quick! Miss Y/L/N has arrived! And she has a gift!”

As Martha stepped aside, you came into the warmth of the house. A fire was crackling and there was chatter in the next room. You took a deep breath to steel yourself, as Cora walked to greet you. Donned in slightly fancier attire and her usual grey.

“Oh- hello there. Welcome in,” she greeted with a smile. Her voice a low mezzo.

You walked in and presented the present.

“For you, happy birthday Mrs. Seaborne,” you replied with a kind smile, despite your stomach churning. Perhaps you should just leave it, not enact what you set up inside, and let it alone.

Martha dutifully took the present and left. Cora went up to you with a smile.

“How glad you could be here! I hope I can call you my good friend, Miss Y/L/N,” she said.

Your senses reached out and could feel something in the pocket of her dress.

It was a letter she was going to send tomorrow morning.

A love letter to Will.

You felt your jaw and fists become tight.

“Oh, thank you! Please excuse me- I’m going to get something to drink,” you excused.

Promptly turning around, you began to walk over, your head spun for a bit. You found the dining room did have some red punch. Guests chatted with each other, ignoring you. You made yourself drink slowly. You urged your breathing to slow despite your racing heart and mind.

She called you her friend to your face, yet had the audacity to continue to pursue the man about to be your husband!

You took another sip. You felt some of the cold punch dribble on your mouth. You grabbed a napkin and wiped it. The little red drops look like blood on the crumpled cloth.

You then made up your mind about her. It didn’t matter if she pursued science or housewifery, it didn’t matter if she wore corsets or refused them. It didn’t matter who she was or what she liked. And it especially didn’t matter what happened in her past.

Even if it all explained why…in no way could you excuse or condone her actions.

If Will had forced himself on Cora if he lied about you to her… there would be nothing to forgive. She would be a victim as much as you.

But that’s not what happened.

A thought began in you, growing, spinning around in your mind in its quiet, angry, bitter delirium.

She knew Will wasn’t free…and she did it anyway…

And for that, Cora would receive punishment. There was no regret in your systems now. You would enact the gift when the time was right.

It even made you more motivated to enact the next part of your plan here- one seed was planted when Martha carried that present away. Now you had to figure out where to send the next letter. You were glad you remembered. Even if the present didn’t work- you would at least figure out where to send the letter.

But for now, you had to calm yourself. Take deep breaths and take note of the current moment.

A small group of people were gathered in the parlor. Saying you felt better after getting a little dizzy, you went over to meet them. You took note of those you knew. There was Mr. Charles and Mrs. Katherine Ambrose. A couple that lived close to Will. They were looking forward to having you as neighbors. They already viewed you as such as you went up to greet them. Charles shook your hand excitedly.

“How good to see the lady of Reverend Ransome! How is he today?” he asked.

Ransome…that was an odd name. Once you would have loved and now…how hollow it felt. Empty. It was going to be Stella’s name in another lifetime if it wasn’t you. Ransome- like the word “ransom”. Which meant to hold someone as their prisoner. To trap. There was a second meaning to the word to. And also the bargaining, the deal. The money paid would set prisoners free. So you would have been ransomed to be a Ransome and in need of a Ransom. Perhaps others would see the second meaning if you married him and lived a life of lies in that tall, white vicarage.

Only you knew which meaning it would take on for you or Stella had either of you married Will.

“He’s lovely. Said hello to us after everything he did. He was busy as a bee today- helped a farmer whose sheep broke out into the field. Then he was off to scold Mr. Banks about his crudeness over tea and biscuits,” you reported.

Katherine promised to indulge you in secrets of marriage and housewifery, gathered in gossip and recipes, and should the time come, child-rearing. You smiled and listened to her.

A few others trickled in. Luke you recognized was finger-combing his short hair. All sipping on drinks and biting off bits of treats before dinner of roast lamb.

As you sat down to the little main course you saw Martha bouncing along Frankie. Cora turned her head to the maid, nanny, and now it seemed, a cook too.

“Martha, make sure Frankie is in his bed by now, please.”

“Oh, of course, Miss,” Martha replied.

Cora turned around and began to pour out small glasses of wine for everyone. But you found yourself looking at Martha.

You took note of the look on Martha’s face. She hadn’t left but was staring at Cora. Lovingly, full of longing, blushing cheeks and soft eyes with a little smile…she hesitated before she turned and left.

Part of you was a little shocked. You were surprised- you knew your husband liked both men and women, so you shouldn’t be so shocked. It was the kind that took you by complete surprise and made you a little worried for her. But you looked down on your plate of dinner and ignored it, pretending like you didn’t see as you began to take nibbles off your side dishes.

Excusing himself, Luke turned around to leave for the parlor. Everyone gave little looks in confusion. Then he returned with a bouquet full of red roses. People gave little gasps, smiles, and the little laughter of delighted surprise, except for the birthday lady. She sat up, her posture rigid and her small eyes darkening, her round face still pale.

He knelt and gave the bouquet to Cora in a flourish.

“Roses for your birthday, our dear Cora! In addition to the present!” he declared.

But the object of this grand gesture did not change one bit in her face or body.

“Oh…thank you, they’re very nice,“ Cora replied politely. She took the flowers, set them aside, and continued eating. All as she did, he smiled big and tried to pay compliments, but she ignored him.

Oh, good grief! Was every person in town in love with Cora!? Did she have admirers popping in everywhere to swoon over her!?

Then again, it would cause a rift in your plans. For the third letter you had already decided that you would leave it in church where a member of the congregation would pick it up. You would have to take note of where Luke and Martha sat in church. If they discovered the letter, heartbroken as they would be, they wouldn’t tell a soul. Especially Martha considering this was her employer!

It then hit you…everyone loved Cora. Everyone owned up to Cora and offered their hearts. She had her pick of anyone in town, any soul…

And she chose your fiancee.

She knew he wasn’t free…and she did it anyway. The thought emerged again.

They began to talk. Soon there was a two-layered cake delivered. It had a coating of white buttercream that seemed delicious on the outside, but the inner cake was bitter and stale to your tongue. Yet the others greedily devoured the pieces anyway, only wiping away the cream on their mouths with napkins.

You reached your powers out. You found her room, her desk, her letters. Where was it- where was it? There were letters. Of course, the love letters from Will. But nothing- she must have already sent things! Oh, you couldn’t find anything! Was it hopeless? Should you plant two letters in the church?

But then, right before you could search further….a miracle occurred.

“I only wish to have more evidence. Mr. Sawyer of the Royal Institution was interested. He wished to see my notes on the fossils. Though it appears I will have to give him a hypothesis that he considers ‘great’ enough. That’s what I wish for my birthday,” Cora sighed.

“Do not fret, but keep at it. They will listen soon!” encouraged Katherine.

You took note as you delicately ate. Remembering the name. Etching it into your mind to be reached again.

You bore the rest of the party patiently, then said you were tired and excused yourself. The Ambroses cooed saying that the little parsonage bride would indeed need it in her excitement for the upcoming day. They escorted you back home.

The next day, you stopped at the library. You found the address of the Royal Institution of London, copying it down onto a piece of paper.

Once you got home from the party, you got out an envelope. You got out the second love letter, the “come quickly” letter being tucked in your bookshelf for Sunday.

The second love letter you placed in an envelope.

You then got out another piece of paper.

“Dear Mr. Sawyer, I have some unfortunate news regarding Mrs. Seaborne. I found this letter in the possession of Reverend Ransome, who is already engaged to a Miss Y/L/N. She is not of character fitting for your halls of science. Sincerely, Anonymous.”

Scurrying out, you sent it out to be mailed.

Now you only had to wait for Church. Use your senses to note where people sat. Then you’d plant the last letter.

Saturday Afternoon, no one would be there. You crept inside. Your senses reached out, feeling who sat where. You took note of where Martha and Luke sat. Even the Amrbose’s too, for they were fond of their neighbor and if they discovered the letter, wouldn’t talk. Martha liked the far left in the corner. Luke enjoyed the fourth in the middle from the door. The Amroses took the second pew to your left.

You got out one of the red, sturdy books of common prayer that sat there. Often there were pamphlets with the service order planted in the books. You picked a spot where none of Cora’s allies would sit. From your coat’s pocket, you got out the letter. The “come quickly” letter. The one that would shock and damn the most, for you had to get it to where it would reach more people.

You planted the letter inside the book. To make it, Will left it there by accident. A letter too juicy for anyone to resist or just leave.

Sunday morning, you delivered the little baked cakes for the children. and set it aside in the kitchen. They all cheered and gobbled them up, uttering thank you’s. You were immediately becoming a favorite to them. They went up and asked questions until they had to be corralled to learn about Mary and Matha. But even the old lady who taught them couldn’t resist one. She picked up a warm cake, sniffed it, and you saw her shoulders sag after she took a bite.

You went to the front row of the church. This was all normal. What was always done, despite your racing heart. You didn’t dare check your senses to feel when the moment happened. It would make you too anxious.

As people filtered through, if they didn’t find interest to go chatting with the miracle woman, you took note. Even during the service, your back turned to see all of them.

Finally the organ blared and it began again. You then returned to the service to look with pretend adoration at Will for one hour. In his white robes with a blue-green sash with gold ornaments, he stood before the crowd a the sanctuary. The bright, sunny day letting a bright light over the brown church.

“For our announcements, in just a month, we shall have our rescheduled wedding. We hope that those invited shall be available to join. And then, my dear Miss Y/L/N shall make me the happiest of men.”

You took note of those little wooden chandeliers. The cloudy, grey overcast day rather than a sunny one, their wicks were dry and unlit.

And he was standing right under one in the middle as he spoke on.

‘Do it, my dear,’ Loki whispered to you.

You made one of the unlit candles on the chandelier shake. Wriggling.

‘Fall’ you ordered it through your magic.

It then tipped over the side where Will remained for the announcements. There were a few gasps, and before he knew why-

PLUNK! The candle hit him right on his curly, auburn head.

He jumped his white sleeves up to his head with a noise he made out of pain. It wasn’t enough of a fall to do him any real harm, only a bit of pain.

The congregation burst into laughter. As did you. For all the tension inside of you, it was much needed.

The service began and then ended. When you checked it the next day…it was taken. You let out a smile, a deep breath through your system. A member of the congregation had “happened” upon the letter and took it. And likely read it. How could they not? Small places need entertainment. The content was far too shocking, too entertaining, too scandalous for someone in a small town not to read.

And they would do what people in a small conservative and religious town with nothing else to do did.

They would talk.

Then Mr. Brown would tell Mr. Miller would tell Mrs. Miller who would then tell the baker who would whisper it to his daughter and she would tell all of her friends at tea time and then one would tell Ms. Price and Ms. Price would tell Mrs. Banks who would tell Mr. Banks who would tell his drinking buddy Mr. Plume who would tell old Mr. Cracknell who would complain about it to Mr. Charles Ambrose who would then tell his wife Katherine. And by then Katherine wouldn’t talk and swear to secrecy about her neighbor but it would be too late because the silent melodrama behind everyone’s backs was already in its run.

The next two days, you could sense it. There was sadness, a pity on people’s faces as you greeted them. There was some hesitation when they talked- but they were even kinder to you than before.

When they interacted with Will, you noticed a cold politeness. One woman, after he left, crossed herself as if she met a demon. Some people seemed silently furious at Cora. Glaring at her.

The rumors started to circulate at last. The sweet virtuous, wonderful bride. The miracle bride. The bride who was blessed by God himself…only to suffer as it seemed her vicar was being tempted. The devil moving him to deny his oath before God. An oath he was ready to make before all of them. An oath already broken.

And you were now the figure of pity- poor, sweet Y/N! The bride God blessed! Now thrown away! What was he thinking?

So it would make the last three steps of your plan fall into place.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was Wednesday and Will was going to be here for dinner. Your mother rolled up her sleeves and began to cook away. You promised to wipe down every surface clean and sweep the steps outside. As you stepped out with a broom, you looked out at the front. Nervousness tightening your chest.

It was time to enact the next step. Part of you hesitated to do this.

But Will would be here tonight. It was the right time it would work- a time after he left when rumors were running high.

And if you did, then everything would start falling into place. You just had to gather your courage to do it.

You set your hand before the door.

This is going to hurt him more than it shall hurt me, you thought as a comfort.

You waved your hand over the front of your house at the door. Concentrating hard.

Nothing happened. Not yet. It was all coming into place. You swept with more of a flourish.

Once you had finished your errands, you saw your mother hurry out.

“What is the matter?” you asked.

“Oh, apples! I forgot! There is a new shop here with orchards from farmers! This fellow, Mr. Armstrong grows the finest apples! I forgot to buy some- I must be back in time to finish supper!” she chatted, putting on her hat as she scurried away.

It wasn’t long before she hurried and set the apples in a bowl. Though you insisted on being there to help with dinner. You had to learn to cook for your husband, you said. Preaching works up an appetite.

Another dinner, another evening like no other. Will got up a napkin and wiped the sauce off of his goatee before he continued. He reached a hand to hold yours, though it felt like a grip on you. Your mother cut everything into bits taking small bites. Your father devoured his plate within a minute.

Will looked over you, his eyes as soft as a lamb.

“I must keep you in my prayers now- and will help you. The council who appointed me- The Reverend Eckheart, Moore, and Bishop Green shall be here. And you shall pray the council meeting goes well, yes?”

“Of course, love,” you replied with a small voice.

The council meeting. He thought they would sip tea and discuss theology. How little did they know…a man who the town thought an attempted murderer, rumored to be unfaithful, with evidence of him giving money from the church to his mistress. A woman who was probably by now exposed as a ruined woman to the largest and most prestigious institution of science.

Part of you wanted to wait longer to see it all happen.

Everyone then gathered to be by the fire in the parlor to read for a minute as dinners settled. A domestic, normal scene.

Will then announced he would leave. He shook hands with your parents and embraced you and kissed you on the cheek. It almost pained you- a glimpse of what could have been. Even of what was.

You were scared to enact your step. But you wanted your revenge more. You would not let your mind run wild- you would act rather than dwell. It was now or never.

He left, closing the door.

You waited, counting the time. You turned back to your knitting in the parlor. Your heart raced. You could sense him there already walking.

You took in a deep breath. Remembering the mantra.

“This shall hurt him more than it shall hurt me.”

Sitting down to your needlework, you turned your head away. You urged the magic on the front side of the house as he began to walk away.

‘Go alight now,’ you ordered.

It complied.

From outside of the front door, a fire grew. It’s smoke spread. You turned your head down and began to knit as if not noticing it. For surely the Miracle Woman was only attending her womanly needles per her duty as a wife to the church!

Then there was smoke in the parlor.

“Fire! There’s a fire!” shouted your father. Your mother screamed. And you screamed with her in your planned terror.

Mother pulled all of you out of the back door before any of you could be hurt.

Neighbors ran out, pulling out to make a makeshift fire department.

“Fire! There’s a fire! Fire at the Y/L/N house!”

Will, with what little decency in his holy heart he had, hurried back to see the damage. You wailed out tears and clung to him like any sensible damsel in distress.

The neighbors hurried with buckets of water, and Will helped. Instead, you leaned on your mother, hugging her and crying, shaking it out per the innocent little victim. The Harris’s got wind and ran out, and soon the fire was silent by the water people managed to get out and toss at it. Even before it could creep in and destroy the place or hurt any of you.

But the front door and area were charred some, there was no denial about that.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you all! How frightening!” you said, tears streaming down your face like the little ingenue you pretended to be. You smiled at each one.

“Don’t worry, we promise, you’re safe now!” assured Mrs. Banks. From her white shawl, she reached out a hand to squeeze your shoulder.

“Why…what happened? There were no lamps, no candles there, nothing that could be alight!” your father wondered.

“Hm, looks like it started in the front,” Mr. Harris noted.

“There was nothing there! Could it be an accident? Oh- to think the house nearly burned down! How horrible!” you would cry, shivering like a doe in a rainy forest. Perfect for him to wrap his arms around, the image of a victim and now the one who began it.

“What happened before?” asked Mrs.Harris in concern.

“Oh, nothing! Reverend Ransome came by to visit, he just left. Then it occurred!” your mother reported. “We shall be fine, just careful! Just some charring in the front- nothing big!”

People would wonder. But you felt their eyes on him.

By the next morning, You knew the rumors would turn.

They already knew of the rumor of the affair. Now…with nothing else but the fire…

Someone tried to kill you, kill their precious miracle woman. There was nothing that could have caught fire by accident and it was started from the outside.

By someone who must have been out.

And it was Will who was there and was seen just outside and left right as it began.

The talk would turn.

Did he want to…kill his fiancee, the beloved darling YN, the miracle woman who emerged from Loki blessed by God? Why…then that made it even worse!

Moods would turn against him. Bad. People were polite, but their eyes would soften at you. Poor, pitiful Y/N! If this happened- then the Lusty Vicar was a Lusty Scoundrel! They frowned but kept polite. Oh, if only some act of God would happen to set him and his little tart in their place.

But one act was on the way. The last step in your plan.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Three days passed. And each morning you checked your senses to see where Cora was. It made you nervous. Your heart racing.

Then one morning, you woke up in the early dawn again. Your parents were still asleep. You could only wrap a shawl around you. Though the golden and emerald wedding ring remained on your desk. You fit it around your finger. Not too loose to fall off, but not too tight to squeeze it.

Stomach rumbling, you could only sip on a little coffee. Picking an apple from the bowl, you took a bite of it. Tasting the juices that tickled down your throat and crunched like bones in your mouth.

Your senses alerted you. Cora was wearing the new coat. She was in the marshes, in the woods.

Now. Now. Now! You urged. It was finally time. Time you would go home.

You got a letter left on your desk. You wrote it before and would leave it planted. Explaining that you loved Loki, you married him already, and that you were going to reside in Asgard already with him. Especially to fight Grendel. And that Stella once she was healed would be returned home too.

Then you set off. Your heart raced as you went through the woods in only your nightgown and shawl as you hunted Cora’s path like a predator.

Your thoughts reached out to Loki.

'Listen to me! It’s almost time!' you cried. 'Hm, yes my dear, time for what? I do prefer specifics,’

'Loki-I’m going to complete the last part of my revenge. Then I am about to give a signal. When I do- open a portal. And take me home to Asgard, Please!'

'Oh, anything for you,’ he agreed.

You caught your breath. Beneath the dirt had gotten on your little slippers. On the bottom of your skirt.

It was a similar scene. There in the chill woods where the birds sang about and an owl hooted over his night’s hunt. The little mist. The light wind made it cooler. You had known it before. And you would not stop to pick flowers anymore.

You were so familiar with this, this dream, this nightmare, this dance where you could recall each step.

So when you went behind a tree and turned to the field, the sight shouldn’t have shocked you.

Will and Cora. Her in the new grey coat and him again undone in his shirt and tan coat. The same scene again.

You thought you were strong, a brave person, thought you could take it, chew it, devour it, and digest and it shouldn’t bother you, it shouldn’t have…but…You felt the cold shocks, the electricity made with ice running down you. Pat of your vision blurry, making yourself small. Feeling small.

This time, Will placed his green scarf over Cora.

They talked a little bit. You couldn’t hear their words. Only small. Romantic.

He grabbed the long end and gently tugged it over so she would be close to him.

The exact same tug that he did at your skirt not long ago.

Yes, you were crying, small tears down. Your breathing faster and your mind whirring. Yes, you were shaken just like the girl you were before. Your mind was stricken with panic to where it wasn’t clear. You knew it would happen- yet why did it hurt again? You felt almost on the cusp of panicking, collapsing. Your failure and imperfections there in your soul, twisting like a knife to your chest. Your thoughts strangling you.

‘I’m not good enough, I’m not good enough, I’m not good en-’

‘You are good enough, Y/N Darling, you are to me,’ Loki cut in.

His voice broke out. You felt calmer.

You hid behind a tree. And waited. For whatever conversation, be they talking with their mouths or sticking each other’s private bits up the others, would be done.

You were different now- and this time, you had everything in place. You were not going to run. Fury was building in you. Ready to explode, run, scream. Yet you kept silent.

'Loki…keep me calm, steady, please…'

'Yes, my love- you are brave. You’re a brave, wonderful, clever woman. I love you, Y/N. You are my True Love, my wife, and my princess. I love you so much.',/em>

'I love you too.'

'Is that the signal?'

'No…I’m waiting for them to stop…'

You looked back.

Cora was alone now. Will must have walked off to the woods or fields or wherever. No scarf around her neck. The mantra repeating in your mind.

"She knew he wasn’t free. She did it anyway.”

Your eyes glared at her. You stepped a little out to see clearly. Though she was in the distance and you must have been just a figure, at most a phantom. Her small eyes down on the ground and a blush on her cheeks, nothing in her blonde hair streaked with red but her lover.

You kept your eyes focused and took a breath as you lifted your hand. Letting your anger run cold.

“She knew he wasn’t free. She did it anyway.”

You let that phrase be your guide as you pointed with a finger.

With a breath, you got out your magic. Urging it to tear the sleeve open from the outside.

After she did, she went up to glance at you.

Cora felt something off, feeling it funnily on her arm. She reached inside. Then her nose crinkled at feeling something. Then she got out the scrap of folded paper. Curiously, she took it out. She unfolded it and flipped it over to the side with words.

You stepped out of the tree. You gathered your face to be still, your body still. Only a woman in a bridal-white nightgown staring calmly at her, only your eyes showing what anger you held in your heart.

You waited until her tiny, scrunching eyes saw the phrase you had written. For just one second to pass for her to process it.

One second to react. To look up. To see you in the woods, the paper shaking in her hand.

It read:

“Mrs. Ransome sends her regards”

In a heartbeat, flicked your wrist, triggering the magic on the coat.

The coat burst into flames and Cora with it.

Your senses alerted you that Will was some distance in the field, praying. Wearing his coat- one that you cursed.

With a flick of your wrist, you let it burst into flames too.

It was poetic. Stella’s suicide attempt would have been a death of water. So it seemed fitting that theirs should be fire.

You turned around. You would not watch to see if Cora survived.

It didn’t matter.

As you walked into the woods, you heard her. The high-pitched, womanly, tormented scream of Cora Seaborne.

You smiled a little as you walked further and away.

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