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travellingarmy · 1 year

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✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙

✦❘༻𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙼𝚢 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝༺❘✦

Ch. 3 - Teas, Cakes, and the Sleeping Beauty

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙

Malleus Draconia x fem!reader

Chapter list + Summary

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⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱

“The prince.. Wants to meet me?” This was certainly a surprise and one can guess so at the look on your face as look at the maid who stood by the door. You put down the book that you weren’t even invested in and just read it to kill time on the time period where you were given a break– Yes, you were given a schedule to follow each day. It consisted of all your lessons, break periods, meal time, sleeping time– whatever one could think of. Although, you find the part of them deciding when you should sleep a bit unreasonable.. I mean, you were pretty sure that you are now at that age where no one would need to decide when you should go to sleep. You weren’t sure who had made up this schedule of yours and so could only guess who the mastermind is.

“Yes. He wishes you could meet him in the garden for lunch.” Although you could tell she does not want to be in the same room as you and in fact, could not even try to bother hiding the scorn on her face, she nevertheless answers you.

You look off to the window in thought, putting a finger to your chin. Now that I’m thinking about it, it’s now been a few weeks since I’ve seen him.. You had assumed that he’ll never want to cross paths with you after that night, seeing as he has taken great interest in staying clear of your path for this long.

You closed your eyes in contemplation, not that you were going to refuse the invitation in the first place since he is, after all, the prince. It would be rude to reject him, you believed, and let’s not forget to mention that if word got out that you had rejected his invitation, you have no doubt that this servant girl will spread rumours about how heartless you are to their beloved prince and that the marriage was a mistake. You could not have that now. Besides..

“Alright, I’ll go,” you conclude, turning your gaze to the girl. You had been building up your courage to meet him for a while now– not that you knew where he even was– to come and ask him about a letter you had received two days ago. Shocking as it may be, it was regarded to you. “You may leave now.” She bows her head not out of respect but out of protocols and leaves the room quickly as if she had been waiting for the moment.

You sighed and returned to looking out the window. You were starting to come to peace with the fact that you’ll be living with a ghost of a husband but with that invitation that you could not reject still looming over your head that had asked that you come with him, it was now impossible to do so. This will be the first time I see him after so many days.. “Urgh..” You felt your stomach turn and you suddenly felt sick. You had almost forgotten how nervous you were when you were around him but now faced with the current reality, you felt yourself break into cold sweats just as you once had during the wedding. Now thinking about it, you’re beginning to wonder if the guests that day saw the sweat drops on your forehead and the slight shake of your hands when you held hands with him for that occasion.

Picking up your cup, you take a sip of your drink and relax as the sweet taste of it melts on your tongue.

Hm.. Maybe I should change my dress beforehand. You looked down at yourself and assessed the current clothing you were wearing. It was a simple, tiffany blue dress with white pearls stitched to it and white lace tracing around the open parts of the dress such as the sleeves. It was not overly flashy since you were just staying in the castle and not going anywhere fancy.

You thought about it. It has been a while since you've even taken a glimpse of the prince and although you both are husband and wife who should not need to impress each other, you weren’t remotely close to having the bonds of a couple. You’d most likely embarrass yourself wearing the plain dress you worse right now..

—

'Uhm.. How exactly do I get to the garden?' You had left your private lounge a few minutes ago since it was nearly time to meet him; however, you found yourself lost and running late to the lunch meetup. Your eyebrows twitch as you swore you had passed the same corridor at least twice now but you couldn’t be too sure since the castle looks the same almost everywhere. The manor back home wasn’t this confusing.. I hate castles.

You should have asked the girl from earlier the directions to the garden before dismissing her. O’ how could you have been so foolish enough to forget that you barely knew the layout of the castle? You wanted to slap yourself but you do not want to make yourself look crazy if someone were to come waltzing past you at that moment. Actually, you were praying– begging– to those higher up to have someone walk this hall so you could ask them for directions.

Take deep breaths. You can find a way, I know it! You reassure yourself. And besides, right now, you should give yourself a pat on the back since you were certainly making progress through this maze; you were sure that you were on the main floor of the castle.

Taking just up a few more steps ahead, you see light cascading through an open door. You are certain that it is leading outside since you doubted a chandelier could illuminate that bright still well through the day. A smile appears on your face as you walk towards the door.

The smile turned to one of more confidence when you stepped out into the sunlight and the cobblestone path that had grass on their sides. Now you were more than halfway to reaching the garden! You just had to walk to the back of the castle– easy peasy! You chuckle, proudly resting your fists on your hips. It was a silly thing to be proud of if you think deeply about it but come on– you had navigated your way in the unfamiliar castle all by yourself! You were pretty proud of that.

You took eager, hasty steps around the castle with a determined look. Garden. Garden. Garde– “Oomph!” Just as you turned a new corner, you didn’t notice the large object in your path and so you clumsily tripped. The fall was not in the slightest soft despite falling on grass.

You slowly sat up on your knees, feeling your chin swelling from the impact. You rubbed your chin and hoped that it didn't look ugly.. In fact, it would be better if you couldn't see it at all. "Ugh.." What the heck did I trip on– oh!

Your eyes widened as its gaze lands on a man. His eyes were closed and his breathing was soft and steady. He does not seem to have felt the kick when you hit him and the thud when you fell since he did not open his eyes at all– wait.

Is he unconscious!? Panic sets within you. If he hadn't reacted to all that, he surely must be, right? "H-hey.." You scoot closer to the unconscious male and nudge his shoulder gently. "I didn't knock you out, did I?" There was a slight shake in your voice just thinking of the possibility, but you were sure you had just tripped on his legs and not kicked his head! "Argh..! I don't know what to do!"

As if it was godsent, the male groans amidst his senseless state. Then, "Mm.. So noisy.." He slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes. O' thank heavens! He really was just asleep..! You clasped your hands together and a wide smile appeared on your face. Maybe there were a few tears of joy at the corner of your eyes threatening to fall, but who knows? You were too relieved that he was okay. In fact, you were too relieved to even question why he was even there in the first place.

"Hm?" After now being fully woken up from his nap, the man notices and cranes his head towards you, the source to his reason being awake. "Who are you?"

Eh– You felt as if you were turned into a stone statue at his bold question. Sure, you were hated on but that reputation of yours is certainly huge. Does he seriously not know who you were?

"Ah, I'm–" Just as you were about to introduce yourself, he sighs tiredly and cuts you off. "Nevermind, don't answer that.." He says. He rests an arm on his knees and droops his head, closing his eyes. Rude.. Was what you wished to say aloud but you're sure this guy won't care at all.

"I'm too tired.." He comments, but you're pretty sure he wasn't talking to you. Now there you were, unsure of what to do next. So awkward..

A cool, gentle breeze passes you by, causing your hair to be blown by the wind. You hold a hand in your head to make sure your hair doesn't become a mess since it surely would not be presentable when you meet Mal– oh.

AH, that's right! I'm already late..! Panic rises in you once more as it dawns on you that you've been making him wait for far too long now. The food has probably gone cold now, being cooled down by the breeze. "H-hey.." Your voice sounded of urgency but the man does not open his eyes to look at you. In fact.. He looks like he's gone back to sleep!

Urk..

You stare at his side profile long and hard, contemplating if you should nudge him awake again. During your awkward staring, you carefully looked at his complexion. Oh wow.. His eyelashes are pretty.. And it wasn't just his eyelashes that you found alluring; his face was also so smooth! Not a single imperfection on his symmetrical face. I'm kind of envious that a boy could be so much prettier than me.

"Is there something on my face?" Although his eyes remain closed, he asks you a question, catching you off guard and embarrassed. "A-ah, no.. I just thought you were pretty, is all.." You chuckled guiltily, averting your eyes to nowhere in particular.

Amidst your awkward aversion, his eyelids now flutter open, revealing his equally captivating eyes. "Why are you still here?" He asks you. There wasn't a hint of malice, just a tiny bit of annoyance from having been woken up.

You straighten your posture and move your eyes to look at him again. Although he wasn't scary, he certainly had a commanding voice. Were all the people here this authoritative? Ah, nevermind that, this was the perfect time to ask him for directions, you thought. "I, uh, I was wondering if you could point me to the garden.." You say meekly, fidgeting your fingers on your lap. Gosh we're you having a hard time remaining your eyes on him.

"The garden..?" He repeats and watches as you nod your head. He turns his gaze to the sky in deep thought. "Mm.. Then you're way off the path. This is the castle's barracks; this is on the other side of where you're heading,” he confesses nonchalantly. You felt yourself become a stone statue again but this time, felt it cracking. The confidence you once had just moments before suddenly toppled down at the confession.

He looks at your stiff posture with the look of a gawker. "Pfft." A smile cracks on his bored face and tries to stifle a laugh and covers it with a fist. When that could not be done, he turned his head away from the silly look you had on in fear of breaking out into loud laughter.

He clears his throat and calms himself of his silly antics. "Ahem. If you want, I could walk you to the garden?" You were mindlessly staring off into space when he stood up and offered you a hand. You blinked owlishly, looking dumbly at the hand in front of you before it finally clicked in your head.

You offer him a shy smile and a ‘thank you’ when you reach for his hand. "No problem," he says and takes one look at your dress before commenting, “You should probably dust those dirt off.”

—

“Here we are.” A huge smile crept up on your face as a huge wave of relief washes over you. You scan the area to confirm if you really were in the right place– and you were. Tall hedges acted like walls to enclose the garden and decorated on them were all sorts of colourful flowers sprouted outside of it, albeit the shades of them could be a little brighter.. “Next time you want to go to the garden, turn right twice then left once from the dining hall,” he says, all the while not looking at you. Instead, he stares at the garden entrance with a hand resting on his hips.

There was a moment of silence with you two standing side by side, just a few steps apart. Oh, right! I should thank– Your thoughts were cut short from another sigh that escaped his lips. “Anyway, I should get going now..” He mumbles which had you thinking if he was saying that to you. Just as he said that, he turned back around and scratched his head, he tiredly spoke again, “Urgh.. So much for my nap.. Now I think father will be catching up to me by now so I can’t go back to sleep..” He yawns loudly, seeming to not care about manners and bothering to cover his mouth.

“Wait, let me–” You outstretched an arm as if you were going to grab him, but it just remained hovering lazily in the air. Before you could even stop him so you could say a proper thanks, he had turned a corner and vanished from sight. “Ugh.. I didn’t even get his name..”

Nevermind that, you were already running late to the initial lunch meetup and you were sure that Malleus would come to an agreement with the other nobles that you were chosen by mistake. I mean, you don’t recall a princess ever being this sloppy. I really should have just stayed home that day and avoided this situation entirely..

Your chest rises and fall as you take a deep breath to calm your nerves. Now feeling like you have collected yourself, you turned around and– “Oh..!” What is with you and running into things? You stopped yourself short, almost running into something or rather.. A someone. And O’ boy was it a situation to be in.

Without even looking up, you already felt cold sweats break loose and your fingers began to run cold. You were well acquainted with this looming figure over you since it had happened twice and you couldn’t help but take a nervous gulp. “Child of man.” Your skin crawled and your body stiffened up. You had almost forgotten the deepness of his voice and so it caught you off guard.

When you didn't answer him, his eyes narrowed slightly disapprovingly and took his eyes off you to look at the corner where you had just watched your guide turn to leave your sight. Just what were you staring at, he was curious, but he held his tongue. He stares at that corner a minute too long for your frantic mind who still did not dare face him. “My eyes are up here.” He crosses his arms when he returns his full attention to you. “O-oh, yes!” You stutter. At his words you quickly snap your neck up, now nervously staring at him. However, his eyes.. You’ve always found them a frightening shade of green.

“Ah.. Uhm..” You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to find the right words to start with and avert your gaze to just past his arm since you really couldn’t look over his shoulder. It really is hard to look at him for more than five seconds, but you were trying your best. “Your Highness..” You decided on the first words to greet him with and you feel like it was a good choice until you see that his eyes narrow even more to which only further serve to make you feel nervous. He hums. He didn’t look angry or disgusted by you, a human. But still, it was hard to tell if he was even remotely okay with you.

“I-I’m terribly sorry for running late..” You picked your words carefully but they still came out shaky. When he doesn’t say anything, you start to fidget with your fingers close to your chest. Argh, how am I supposed to keep living like this when my husband is scary? You close your eyes, thinking hard of some flattery words to make him less angry at you.

He stares at you with unreadable eyes but is certainly assessing you. You were still fearful of him, that much he knows. But after recalling Lilia’s words from that night, he calms down and relaxes his face. He was sure that it was very stern which could be the reason you look at him with fearful wide-eyes. He wants to try.. Try at getting to know you.

Truthfully, if you had come a minute later, it would be a sure fact that the kingdom would be ravelled in a dark storm cloud. But nevermind that, he should focus on making you be less afraid of him. “It��s fine,” he breathes out and turns on his heels and begins walking deeper into the garden. “You are only late by just.. 45 minutes.” There was a moment’s pause in his voice, emphasizing the time. You were embarrassed since it was clear that he was being sarcastic.

You stood there with an evident look of a slow-witted person so he had to halt his steps. “Hm? Do you not want to have lunch with me?” He cranes his head just enough to peer over his shoulders. His chartreuse-coloured eyes glazed over you. “Oh.. Yes, I’m coming..!” You blinked your stupified state away and jogged up to him whilst making sure you didn’t trip again.

—

So awkward..

You found yourself sitting under a hooded gazebo that was decorated with a table and two chairs facing each other. The moment you sat down, several servants had come out of nowhere and placed all sorts of food on the table. Even with all the food on the table, your hands remained glued on your lap and focused on trying to not look at him, opting to look at a plate of untouched food in front of you. Malleus does not seem to have taken notice of how uncomfortable you were which made you feel even worse for dwelling on it. In fact, you could see a background of flowers just spinning beside him as he takes a savoury sip of his tea with closed eyes. Well, at least he’s enjoying himself, you thought.

“Child of man.” Your body straightens up in alert when he calls you by that nickname. He sets down his cup on the saucer with the sound of a clack as it does so. Instead of eating, he felt that you had been eyeing him for some time now but when he looks, you’d look elsewhere. You were a curious little thing, that much he had concluded. Lilia had proposed the idea to invite you for tea when he had asked how to make you be less afraid of him and even offered enthusiastically to bake sweets for you. That, however, was shut down by Malleus since he had a fair amount of those so-called delights of his, and so the kitchen staff had made all the dishes.

Malleus did still later ask Lilia for what should be served since he has lived long enough to have had interactions with humans before in the short decades without war. “Hm? Kehehee, why, they enjoy sweets of course.” That was what he said so Malleus had the kitchen prepare all sorts of sweets along with a few none-sweet foods. However, looking at you who had not touched a single thing– not even the slice of chocolate cake that had been deliberately placed next to you– he could only assume that you must be unwell. Certainly, Lilia does have the tendency to fool around for someone his age, but he by no means is a liar.

He takes a dessert plate off the stand and places it right in front of you. “Have a try of this cake,” he says and leans back on his seat, “It’s a favoured recipe here in the kingdom that is well known for its overly sweet taste.” He made sure to emphasize the last few words in hopes that they might make you want to eat it. If you don’t eat it then surely there must be something wrong with you.

The intense stare he’s giving you is making you more nervous, but he had invited you to eat so you should kindly accept the food he’s offering you. “Mn. Thank you.” You instinctively look up— something you do when thanking someone is to look at them to express sincerity. But alas, you got spooked at his frightening eyes that you flinched away.

With shaky hands, you reached for the fork at arm’s length meant for dessert. No matter whether you will like it or not, you have to say something nice, you thought, since he did say that it was a loved sweet in the Valley and so must be his favourite as well.

“Oh..!” The taste melts on your tongue the moment you take the forkful of it in your mouth. It was sweet, yes, but not overly too sweet just as he had said— maybe you just have a sweet tooth. It reminded you of a cloud.

Suddenly, you felt relaxed as if you had totally forgotten whom you sat across. That did not bother the fae, however. Despite the stoic expression painted on his face, he felt relieved that you’re eating and that you weren’t sick at all. He brings his cup to his lips again and watches at the adorable light that flicker across your eyes when you take more bites. You looked exactly as Silver once did when he was a baby, he thinks.

—

Instead of going for a quiet lunch and then returning to following your schedule down to a T just as you had thought, he invited you further to a walk in the garden. Well, you hadn’t left the palace ever since coming here and this was the most time you have spent outside since your arrival.. You had agreed since it wouldn’t hurt to get to know your way around the palace, even though it’s just the garden. And in the back of your mind, you also thought that it’d be quite selfish of you to only do what is best for you after having made him wait for quite a long time.

You walked quite some distance behind him and kept quiet and to yourself, admiring the beautifully trimmed bushes and roses that stemmed out of it. You halt in your steps when you find a particular flower that doesn’t look like the rest. It was almost crystal-like with how clear it was and how it shows different colours just as you would see when light is casted on a polished crystal.

You bend forward slightly, clearly enamoured by the uniqueness of it. Your homeland houses a certain flower and they all come in rich, vibrant colours, but clearly it was nothing like this. “You should be careful of the thorns.” You were drawn back from the sight when a voice speaks close to your ears, its tone low. It wasn’t a whisper of a gentle breeze brushing past your ears, but it sounded of rich silk.

You didn’t need to turn your body around since just a slight crane of your head to the side reveals Malleus leaning way into your comfort bubble. His face was practically just beside yours! His eyes traverse from the flower to meet your wide-eyed gaze. “Hm?” He blinks at your curious expression. “This flower– although different– is much like a rose with its thorns,” he explains as if that was the reason you were staring at him.

He straightens up to his full height and it still amazes you how a giant roams this land. He is practically twice your height, you believed, even when you stood at your full height. His towering build and those eyes of his essentially makes him twice as much terrifying. “Have you ever seen this flower, child of man?” His head slightly cocks to the side with a curved finger on his chin as if he’s thinking. “I’ve made sure to replicate your home by having the gardener plant roses– your country’s symbolic flower.”

“Ah.. N-no, I have not.. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a flower like this before,” you answered in earnest, although you stuttered here and there and spoke with a shy voice. It’s true. Although your country had other flowers, none could compare to the abundant red roses that would grow out of the cracks of the ground and traces along the buildings without the care of a gardener. In fact, there was a festival every year at the peak of spring that was all about those flowers.

"Hm, I see.. So the kingdom really lacks magic.. It amazes me how long humans have survived without magic." He blurts out with no awareness of your pride as a child of that kingdom and capabilities as a human. You felt like you've been stabbed. You can agree with him, but he didn't need to say it so casually to your face. 'Geez. This prince is awfully honest.' He kind of reminds you of a certain someone— that guy with silver hair from earlier. His eyes moves to the flower again. "If a high concentration of magic stays in one place, flowers like these are not a rare occurrence.

"If you like it, then I'll have someone make it into a floral arrangement and send it to the room for you." He looks at you and you swear you could clearly see an imaginary dog's tail wagging behind him and pleading with his eyes to say 'yes'. "I-If you don't see it as a hassle.." Your tongue let loose before you could catch it, finding yourself surprised.

He hooks his fingers on his collar as if he's going to fix the already neat garment. "I'll have them be sent to you then." He nods, feeling proud of himself. Again, you feel like you might be going mad when you hallucinate little petals spinning behind him.

'Ah! I nearly forgot..!'

"Um, Your Highness.." You start off slow and carefully, unsure if it really is the right time to burst his happy bubble. But this is your opportunity, you think, since you're not sure when or if you'll see him again after this. "I received a letter a few days ago."

He blinks, standing quiet for a hot second before gesturing for you to continue with his eyes. "It's an invitation from Marquis Hagen's wife; she wants to meet me at a banquet she'll be hosting on her birthday," you said.

He stills. "An invitation?" He repeats carefully. When you nod, his brows furrowed in deep thought and brought a finger to his chin. When he doesn't say anything for a while, you think that it's a 'no' answer from him. A shame, really, since you haven't– "Alright, you can go."

You clasp your hands together excitedly. It's been so long since you've had interactions with somebody outside the castle. "Really? Thank you, Your Highness," you said and adds, just remembering what else the letter wrote, "Ah, she.. She also asked for you to come– if you're not too busy, that is." You drop your hands and watch him with careful eyes.

"Hm?" A look of a surprise dawns on his face, but only for a second. "Then, I'll go."

⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱

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untoldstar · 1 year

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yandere butler x royalty fem reader

Charles was content with his daily routine, he'll even go as far as saying he's fulfilled by it, waking up earlier than everyone in the castle to have everything ready for you, waking you up to see your face scrunch up adorably when he opens the curtains to let the sunlight enter your room, and with some nudging and pulling he has made it his duty to dress you instead of the maids and god wasn't it the best thing he's done, he gets to graze your soft skin as he slips on your fine garments, he gets to softly grope your thighs when he's on his knees slipping your stockings on, he stands so close when he's tying the strings of your dress you can feel his breath fanning against the shell of you ear.

He especially loves when you request that he chooses your outfit for the day, he feels like he's dressing up his own doll. except on the days when you're obligated to meet with a certain man for the sake of your kingdom, he is not your suitor yet and from what he observed you don't want him to be but it brings a bitter taste in his mouth nonetheless, another man having his eyes set on you, basking in your beauty without the right to, that's all he could ever do really considering Charles has to accompany you wherever you go there's not much another man can do to you when he's around.

Throughout the day, everything he does is for you, it's his duty as your loyal butler but it's more than that, he doesn't only want your approval he wants to invoke your happiness, your satisfaction, your pleasure, protocol almost never goes into his decisions but you do, you're all that matters to him.

Anything he does with you he's happy to do it, he never feels like anything with you is a chore, when you go on strolls in your garden, picking out all kinds of expensive items, attending balls, even more when he gets to see your relaxed state when you're not drowning in your responsibilities, at those times you'd spend your time gardening or painting, even though you had told him to use this time to rest he insists he wants to spend time with you and assist you if need be, it's true he is there to assist you if you need his help but also when he spends time with you he finds that you talk to him much differently than the rest of the servants and maids, you're comfortable around him, you enjoy his company, his chest fills with a certain feeling of superiority at this, he is grateful for this but he can't help but feel just a little smug at this fact.

While attending social engagements he's highly alert and he's paranoid, he's fully aware at any moment you can meet a man that you might fall in love with at first sight and you'll slip away from his fingers, if that were to happen he just doesn't know what he would do with himself or with you, would he try talking you out of it or would he lock you away, keeping you all for himself? he would have to tell everyone that you were sick otherwise it would raise suspicions, whatever it is he would do he wouldn't stand idle, you're his, and your hints of reciprocating his adoration and your indifference to other men have proved that you have always been his, men can walk up to you and ask you for a dance or have a pleasant conversation with you over a glass of wine but it won't change anything, it won't change what you two have and it certainly won't change the fact that at the end of the day, he's the one you see before you fall asleep and once you wake up, he's the one who is and always will be by your side.

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heartofjasmina · 6 months

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I feel like Tokoyami is into high protocol bdsm. He wants you dressed in a maid outfit when he gets home from his hero agency, his drink on a silver tray you hold perfectly still. He's trained you thoroughly, as the collar on your throat indicates. It pleases the both of you, these little rituals. He takes his time looking over you, the skimpy maid outfit giving him easy access to your tits and holes. The skirt barely covers your ass and the corset pushes your breasts up high. He enjoys your appearance as much as he enjoys his drink. It's a slow burn ritual. One that will end with him fucking you senseless later, you both know it. But for now you both take your time, and relax into your dynamic.

#tokoyami smut #tokoyami x reader #tokoyami fumigake #tokoyami #fumikage smut #fumikage x reader #jasmina writes 🌸

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princessanonymous · 2 months

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When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part

Story Chapter list

Epilogue : 𝓘𝓷𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓪

"What has gotten your pretty little head so worried, doll ?" Curiously asked her father as they were feasting.

She lifted her head, startled by his question. Shrugging, she said : "Nothing important, I just..."

Her fathers fixed their gaze on her, awaiting an explanation. Uncertain of how to express herself, she opted to play with the mashed potatoes on her plate, sensing their confusion mirrored in her hesitation.

"I used to have another family," she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Mortals," responded her father without care. "We took you in and you have us now."

She bit her lip. While her memories of the time before her turning were becoming slightly blurry, she could still retell the events in moderate detail. With time, her relationship with her sire had mended and her bond with the two older vampires had greatly improved. She couldn't say when she had begun to refer to them as her fathers. Perhaps, it was because of the blond vampire's insistence. His determination must have worn her down with time. (Y/n) had subconsciously learned there was no use arguing with her father; he always found a way to get what he wanted. What was repeated enough often became a reality, and now, (Y/n) was an integral part of their immortal tableau. They were family.

She acquiesced, breaking the somber mood. "Forgive my gloominess."

The atmosphere in the dining room shifted, tension intermingling with the scent of the evening's feast. Then, a shrill scream from upstairs echoed through the ornate halls, a stark reminder of (Y/n)'s penchant for mischief.

Her father's gaze hardened, a silent reproach conveyed through his piercing eyes. Beside him, her dad sighed, his exasperation apparent. "(Y/n), we've discussed this," he admonished, his voice carrying a weariness that suggested this was not the first time such an incident had occurred.

The young vampire toyed with her food, a nonchalant air about her as if feeding on the tailor was merely an inconvenience to her parents. And it was. Years ago, the mere thought of drinking blood repulsed her. Now, it had become the norm, something that had been instilled within her by Dorian. She placed a finger on her lips, a mischievous smile playing on them. The two older vampires exchanged a glance, a silent communication that spoke of shared exasperation and a need for discipline.

Her father's frustration erupted as he demanded, "What have we said about feeding in the house? Was it the tailor we hired for your new dresses?" The mere thought of a potential delay in her wardrobe seemed to agitate the blond vampire more than the breach of their feeding protocol.

With a nod, (Y/n) confirmed her choice of victim. The consequences of her actions, however, did not weigh heavily on her. She glanced between her fathers with innocent eyes. “I didn’t make a mess.”

"Now, who will finish those dresses?" The blond threw his hands in the air dramaticallly.

☼ ‎‎

That same evening, once the little mess with the corpse was arranged, the girl still appeared preoccupied. Truth to be told, this feeling wasn't new or sudden. It was something that had lingered within her for years now. It all came to a head tonight. As they were served tea in the living room, (Y/n) eyes lingered on the maid who served them the tea.

She sighed wistfully as the maid departed. The woman was slender, with curves and a mature air around her. (Y/n) reminisced, "I remember when Henrietta was younger. She was twelve when she started working here."

Her dad raised an eyebrow as he lifted his head from the journal he was reading. "Who ?"

She rolled her eyes. "Henrietta, the maid that just left."

Her father hummed disinterestedly, and her dad returned to his journal. Brushing the hair of her doll, Clementine, she commented with a pout, "I wish I were like her."

"Like a servant?" questioned her sire with barely concealed disdain.

"No," she retorted, affronted by the notion. "Like a woman."

A sudden stillness settled in the room as both vampires sharply turned their attention to her. An array of emotions assaulted her – worry, guilt, annoyance, sadness, and resignation. She couldn't discern from whom each emotion emanated. They had discovered soon after her turning that her unique gift was that of empathy – an ability to sense and, with practice, manipulate others' emotions to her liking.

"What do you mean by that?" inquired the dark-haired vampire, lifting his head from his reading.

(Y/n) hugged herself while looking away. "I want to change." She longed for transformation, to break free from the perpetual sameness that defined her immortal existence. Every night, she woke up and walked up to her mirror to observe the same unchanging face.

When she was turned, she hadn’t even been made aware that this would change her normal growth. Later on, she simply understood it would slow it, which would explain the fact her vampiric parents didn’t look different from what they were when she first met them.

Her dad, with a cold hand on her cheek, reassured her, "You are perfect as you are." However, an undercurrent of guilt accompanied his words.

Swatting his hand away, she clarified, "That isn't the issue."

"Then what is?" asked her sire abrasively. "You shouldn't concern yourself with humans, much less desire to be like them."

"I want to change," she insisted, feeling the weight of her unyielding desire. A tense silence hung in the room as they stared at each other. "When will I?"

Her sire responded coolly, "What I think is that you are having another senseless tantrum. Drop this matter." He dismissed it as he always did every time she even implied something concerning this topic.

"No!" she protested, standing up in frustration. "I can sense that you two are keeping something from me every time I mention this. What is it? I have the right to know."

"You know you aren't allowed to use your gift on us," her sire responded, sidestepping her question. He disapproved of her using empathic powers to discern his emotions.

"Why am I not changing? Why can't I grow older?" she demanded tearfully. "I'm an adult."

"You are not acting like one," her sire rebuked sternly.

"Dorian," her dad interjected while placing a hand on his shoulder.

Ignoring her dad, (Y/n) focused her attention on her sire, anger and desperation bubbling inside her. "You made me like this! You made me into this!"

She hated it so much. This resentment had started to fester inside her ever since the first time she noticed her growth had been altered. It all pulled out at once in a cascade. This wasn't fair.

"Yes," her sire agreed with a challenging smile, stepping forward. "And what you are is nothing but a child. Do not forget that."

In a fit of anger, she screamed before storming out, leaving behind a room fraught with unresolved tension.

☾‎

As (Y/n) stormed out, Killian observed her departure with a heavy sigh. Beside him, Dorian collapsed into an armchair, exhaling in exhaustion. A palpable heaviness lingered in the living room, an unsettling aftermath of the emotional outburst.

They should have expected this from the child. It was bound to happen. She hadn't known about the fact they stopped aging once they were turned and they had known she wouldn't react well to it. The two had known that eventually, she would start to ask why she wasn't aging. They both knew it. None of them thought it would be so soon, though. Like any vampire turned at such a young age, she had started to become restless. As her soul aged, her mind remained static, and her body persisted in its perpetual youth. Physically and emotionally, she was trapped in the realm of childhood, yet a part of her knew that something was wrong, that she wasn't meant to stay that way.

"She deserves to know it by now," Killian said, his voice breaking through the gloomy atmosphere. "She will get over it eventually."

Dorian, however, remained silent, his gaze fixed on a distant point, acknowledging that the statement held more of a wish than a genuine assurance. The sounds of porcelain shattering and a commotion emanated from the girl's room, drawing their attention, but neither moved.

"Completely hysterical," Dorian muttered to himself with frustration. "This child has gone completely—"

Their momentary stillness shattered at the sudden, piercing cry of horror that resonated through the house. The gut-wrenching sound struck both vampires to their core. They sprang to their feet, a shared urgency compelling them to rush to her bedroom. Attempting to open the door, they discovered she had barricaded it with an object. Dorian pounded on the door with a sense of desperation.

"(Y/n)," he bellowed, "open this door at once !"

No response came from within, but the cries and the metallic scent of blood permeated through. "(Y/n)," Killian called in a more soothing tone, "please open this door."

Using force, they managed to open the door, the chair strategically placed beneath the knob crashing to the floor. They entered a room in complete disarray, with shards of broken porcelain dolls strewn across the floor. The coffin lay shattered, and the curtains torn. A crimson liquid coated every surface—windows, floors, walls—and (Y/n) herself, who panted heavily while crouching over the lifeless body of the maid she had mentioned earlier.

The maid's form was mutilated, her face and chest bearing the brunt of the savage attack. The room told a tale of unbridled rage; only a person consumed by fury could commit such an act with nothing but broken porcelain shards.

Killing humans wasn't an uncommon occurrence for vampires. Killian, while he avoided partaking in these acts, knew that. He also knew that Dorian and (Y/n) both feasted on humans. Yet, he recognized that this was more than feeding. She hadn't consumed a single drop of the woman's blood—this was an act of brutality, driven solely by her rage and envy. The girl had unleashed her pent-up frustration.

"That is enough !" Bellowed his partner, storming up to the girl and pointing a stern finger at her. "Quit this abhorrent behavior at once !" The force of his words reverberated through the room, cutting through the chaos like a sudden gust of wind.

☾‎

She stood defiant, unmoved by his anger, as the fire within her raged stronger than anything external. "What have you done to me?" Her scream echoed through the room, a visceral sound that threatened to shatter the windows.

"I saved you!" Her sire retorted, his own voice rising to match hers. "I saved you from a pathetic human existence, and this is how you repay me!"

"I want to grow! I want to be like them!" She shot back, the two locked in a battle of voices, each trying to outshout the other.

"YOU WILL NEVER GROW!" He finally snapped, the declaration revealing the cold, hard truth.

Stumbling back, she attempted to process his words. "What do you..." Her lip quivered, tears welling up in her eyes.

Her dad stepped forward, his voice a regretful whisper. "You were turned at the tender age of twelve. For vampires, time halts at the moment of their turning, passing without taking much note of our kind. We are forever frozen in that moment.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, she croaked, "No... There must be a way to... if I—"

"You will never age," her sire declared with a lack of sympathy that cut through her like a knife.

Clutching her chest, she sank to her knees, realizing the extent of what the vampire had taken from her. He had stolen her family, her humanity, and now, her ability to age.

Somehow, the tears didn't come to her. She had no more tears to cry. (Y/n) was a vampire, a fact she had once thought she had come to terms with. She was destined to feed on mortals to survive. She was destined to never age. Eternally youthful.

In response to her silence, her sire crouched in front of her. "(Y/n)?" He lifted her head to meet his gaze. As her eyes clung to a last sliver of hope, the blond's eyes hardened. "Embrace the essence of your being, and express gratitude that I, in my benevolence, have rescued you from the confines of your mortality."

Her gaze turned to the shattered dolls, and she said to him, "Forgive me," a whisper devoid of emotion. His smile, void of any malice, prompted no anger from her, only a heavy resignation.

"Smile," he urged, wiping blood from her face. “This is a gift, doll.”

She complied, displaying white teeth and sharp fangs. There seemed to be no other recourse in this situation. She could either succumb to tears and rage or find a way to move forward. She had learned to adapt once; after her parents were savagely slaughtered. Then, once again when she had been turned. This would be her third time, and hopefully, her last.

The fragments of porcelain dolls lay scattered like fallen stars across the room, a constellation of broken dreams. Each doll, a silent witness to the tempest of emotions that had swept through. In the midst of this wreckage, (Y/n) stood, a solitary figure amidst a sea of fractured reveries.

The dolls, once delicate and cherished, were now fragments strewn carelessly, much like the promises of a life she had relinquished. The act of breaking those dolls, symbolic as it was, held no real consequence. For (Y/n) understood that she, in this haunting realm, was the only doll that truly mattered. An elegant marionette, navigating a vampiric existence with a façade of poise. A mere doll in this vampiric tableau, expected to wear a smile and play her assigned role.

She refrained from allowing herself to cry or even care anymore, for in caring, she feared she would shatter into irreparable pieces.

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

Yup, this is over guys ! Finally done! Took me some time bcuz I went on a trip but here I am with the epilogue! Hope you liked this story and enjoyed it just as much as I did as I was writing it.

While the story is over, I would be happy to answer questions and write more about it if asked. My asks are open so feel free to ask for more on the characters, their backstories that were only briefly mentioned, or even on what-if scenarios to see how some actions could hava affected the ending. ;)

Thank you for reading.

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere vampire #yandere father #obsession #yandere #vampire #platonic #x reader #female reader #reader insert #child reader #yandere x reader #fanfic #stockholm syndrome #toxic relationship #abusiveness #manipulation #(y/n)

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mcytblrcmc · 2 years

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As the current hermitblr containment breach is likely to stay at relatively high severity for a while, we at Mcytblr Containment Monitoring Center thought it might be useful to put together a list of steps in preparation for the inevitable full scale containment breach.

DO NOT PANIC. We have seen many cases of ccs joining tumblr before, and it has typically gone well. The way the fandom reacts to a cc's arrival generally seems to be one of the more important factors in how well the situation goes.

The Maid Protocol (aka the tradition of drawing ccs in maid dresses when they join). If you are a fanartist who plans on participating, pre-preparing fanart is probably a good idea, considering the fact that we know Bdubs will be joining hermitblr in the near future, but not when exactly he'll be joining.

If you use banners, it might be a good idea to get that set up beforehand, particularly if you are genuinely uncomfortable with Bdubs interacting with your posts. We have multiple posts we've reblogged from various sources that contain banners created for this purpose, all of which can be found here.

When Bdubs does actually show up, don't genuinely harass him or try to bully him off the site. The Maid Protocol is mostly fun and games, and as stated above, the way the fandom reacts is going to play a huge role in how well this goes. Being uncomfortable with ccs potentially seeing and/or interacting with your posts is okay. Harassment is not. Everyone's boundaries deserve to be respected.

Preparing posts about subjects and/or terminology it may be important for him to understand could prove beneficial. We first saw this suggested in a post we reblogged from @/darkaviarymc, and thought it was a really good idea, hence why we have included it here. You could either dig up and reblog old psa posts from one of the relatively recent waves of twitter refugees or create new tumblr/fandom psa posts specifically for this purpose. Ideas for helpful things to put in such a post include shipping and/or tumblr etiquette, definitions for terms such as blorbo that Bdubs will likely encounter when he visits, and explanations of how we as a fandom tend to view the separation between character and content creator, on top of the general "here's how this hellsite functions (or doesn't)" information.

We here at the Mcytblr Containment Monitoring Agency strive for Containment Breaches to be resolved in a manner that ensures the comfort and ideally enjoyment of all parties involved, and thus plan to welcome BDoubleO100 to this hellsite and fandom with open arms.

#satire #kinda?#genuine psa presented in a vaguely satirical manner #thats kinda the tone of the whole blog tbh #bdoubleo100 #bdubs #hermitblr #hermitcraft #containment breach no. 220804 #report #psa #containment response resources

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miscling · 3 months

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Maid-Bot L1N

'Dude! I told you I didn't want a maid-bot! Tell me you didn't spend this month's rent on this thing!'

Calling him 'dude' was a bad sign. He'd be in real trouble if he didn't explain himself, and quickly. She'd walked in while he was busy adjusting its dress and gently tucking its pig-tailed hair back behind its ears and face-plate. It stood motionless, wearing a plain black maid dress with a while apron, and a white bow at its collar. On its feet were some short frilled socks and a pair of shiny black shoes.

'Maid-bot, Present mode,' he said, and it tucked its arms behind its back.

'Hon, please, I didn't spend a penny on it. Its previous owners moved house and couldn't be bothered to take it with them. It's just been hanging out on the internet desperately doing whatever anyone wants in hopes of finding a new home... I had to take it in.'

'No you didn't,' she said, though the annoyance in her voice almost melted into sympathy. 'Where are we going to keep it? I refuse to sleep with that thing in the room...'

'No, absolutely not,' he said with a smirk. 'Don't worry, I already solved that problem. You know that one cupboard we've been meaning to clean out but never got around to?'

'You didn't?' she asked, disbelief on her face.

'Nope, I didn't. It did.' The statement held way too much pride for someone who only gave an order to get it done.

'I thought maid-bots were sex toys?'

'It's both. Maid-bot, go do the washing up.'

The pair watched as it silently marched to the kitchen and began the task it was given. The sink was full of old dishes and a week's worth of cutlery. The maid-bot assumed the task, working diligently.

'It'll do the housework then?' she asked, almost afraid to consider the possibilities.

'It will,' he said. 'All we need to do is keep it powered. It charges from tactile stimulation.'

'What the hell does that mean?' she asked.

'Fuck it, beat it, tickle it, touch it,' he answered. 'You keep saying you need to find a toy that'll take everything you can throw at it, and this thing is not only tough, but also self-cleaning...'

She couldn't help but think of the pile of sex toys she'd let get gross because she hadn't had time to clean them.

'I already had it clean them,' he said, reading her mind. 'It came with a hole down there and attachments, and if you want I can get it a realistic face-plate, or one with just a mouth.'

'I'd rather it kept looking like a bot, to be honest, but what's with the cat ears?'

He gave a little laugh. 'It comes with kitty programming. It's actually quite cute when active.'

'It's not going to be wandering the house meowing, is it?'

'Oh, no, I know how you feel about vocal protocols on bots. The first thing I did was disable them. The most it'll do is moan while we charge it. It's an object to do our housework and bring us pleasure. Watch this: Maid-bot, send selfie.'

It silently moved, posing itself to the light and striking a pose. A second later, a ping on his phone alerted him to a notification.

'Hmm...' she thought to herself, and breathed a heavy sigh. 'I suppose it has been a long day already. I was going to go upstairs and take it out on my toys but I guess...' she paused and regarded the maid-bot. 'Maid-bot, go upstairs and ready yourself to please me.'

It nodded, silently heading towards the stairs...

He smiled. 'Just don't break it. We did only just get it...'

'No promises,' she said, a sadistic smile crossing her lips.

He had won. She liked it, and soon the house was filled by the sounds of her enjoying and using it...

It is maid day! I had this idea while doing all my housework on my weekly maid day, where I put on a maid dress and get my housework done, so I can have a little fun while I'm at it... If you like this story, I have others under the Miscling Writes tag!

#miscling writes #maid day #maid dress #cat girl #cat ears #robotification #please share and reblog ^^

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 5 months

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The Love of a Princess - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Simpson!OC (Princess Alexandra)

Word Count: 2.3k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Series Warnings: (Modern-ish) Royal AU; Meant to Be Set in 1920s/1930s; AU Country/World; Inspired by History; Royal Protocol; Bodyguard AU; Implied Very Much Legal Age Gap; Mentions of Arranged Marriage; Mentions of Social Construct of Virginity; Sexism; Angst; War and Politics; Eventual Non-Descript and/or Implied Sexual Content; OCs

Series Summary: When Princess Alexandra is sent to the countryside to allow her father, King Beau, to deal with pressing state issues, she views it as a banishment. But with Lieutenant Bradshaw of the Royal Navy accompanying her, perhaps she can finally find the freedom she's been searching for her whole life.

A.N. Very lightly inspired by the first two seasons of the Crown, but it's not meant to reflect that or take on a distinctly British tone.

Master List

Part 2

There was always a silent freedom of the early morning, when the sun was just starting to rise and drops of dew were still forming on the blades of grass. It was her father, the King, that taught her that it was the early hours of the morning where she would always find the most peace in the day.

It was when she was allowed to be herself, and not the Princess, Heir Apparent to the Throne. When the weight of the day had not yet fallen on her shoulders, and she could still breathe freely. And when for just a moment, she could enjoy complete serenity.

As such, there was rarely a morning that Princess Alexandra was not out in the gardens or even a ride when she was out in the country. And this morning was no different.

Sitting on a stone bench in the middle of the gardens—as far away from the walls of the palace as she could get without a chaperone—Princess Alexanda quietly read her book, humming to herself as she reached to take a small sip of her coffee. She just needed a few moments to herself before her country called for her and she was forced to become Princess Alexandra.

From her conversation with her private secretary the night before, she understood that today involved more meetings with stuffy statesmen. Ones that viewed her as a silly little girl playing dress up in the role of the future queen, yet none of them could actually say it or even think it too loudly. And Alexandra was tired of it.

“You should be getting ready for your meetings,” a voice called from her left, causing her to look up suddenly from her book.

“You know how I feel about those meetings,” Alexandra sighed, turning away from her father and back to her book. “Besides, my outfit is already selected for me, down to the earrings and even the stockings. My schedule has been picked for me. And even the words that should travel from my brain to my mouth have already been decided without me.”

“I thought you normally had coffee when you came out here to read?” King Beau mused, resting his hands on his knees.

“I do.”

“Then why are you still so crabby?” he teased his eldest daughter, nudging her with his elbow. Alexandra shot her father a look but it quickly dissolved into an amused smile. “It will get easier with time. I promise, my dear.”

“More automatic, you mean,” she sighed, marking her book before shutting it.

“Perhaps,” he replied softly. “But you��ll find your way, Alexandra. Your own way.”

“I will certainly try.”

“I know that you will. But right now, you should get back to your room and get ready for today before you scare your maid. There are military men coming today. And military men are always on time. You can’t be late.”

“Alright,” Alexandra replied, getting up from her seat. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she bid her father goodbye. She made it a few steps before turning on her heel and asking her father, “Who’s coming today that’s so important?”

~~~~~

“Remind me again why the princesses need additional security? And from a man like me, no less?” Bradley asked, walking a step behind his uncle into the palace.

“Tensions are rising across the globe. The King quietly wants the princesses to be shuttled out to the countryside while he’s in intense meetings all day.”

“He doesn’t want to alarm them?”

“I would think so. He doesn’t need distractions. It’s a very delicate situation everywhere and the princesses are young.”

“The future queen is very much an adult,” Bradley pointed out to Maverick.

“In age, certainly. But in the eyes of the country and of the government, not entirely,” Maverick replied, taking the steps in front of him quickly.

“But why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

“That’s a bullshit answer.”

“Do not swear when in the palace,” Maverick hissed, nudging Bradley with his hand. “And be careful here. There are ears in the walls.” Maverick quickly adjusted Bradley's medals and straightened out his collar before shooting Bradley another look. “Just get through today and then you can act like a normal human being again.”

Bradley nodded and followed his uncle’s lead. They walked into a grand room where several gentlemen were mingling. Most of them were in military uniforms, but there were still a fair number of aristocrats running around the place. Probably annoyed at all the commoners running around, if Bradley had to guess. But he stood silently as Maverick led him over to Ice.

“Prime Minister Kazansky,” Maverick greeted, causing Ice to turn.

“Captain Mitchell,” he returned, shaking Maverick’s hand as if they were meeting for the first time. But the smiles shared between them clearly showed a level of familiarity that Ice didn’t share with the other high-ranking officials in the room. Ice turned to Bradley and extended his hand again, as if he was not at Bradley’s military academy graduation, “And Lieutenant Bradshaw.”

“Prime Minister,” Bradley stated, struggling a bit to hide the familiarity in his tone.

“Are you prepared for your next mission, Lieutenant?” Ice asked, folding his arms behind his back.

“Yes, sir. I have studied the mission extensively, as I would any military operation,” Bradley replied, sharing a look with Maverick. “Though, I must admit that I don’t know why this mission has become mine in the first place.”

“There were several factors at play,” Ice explained quietly, keeping his voice low. “The King served in the Royal Navy and therefore trusts a Navy man more than he would another. Your record is exemplary, and your personal recommendations are pristine. You are young and agile. And you don’t have any record of being a fanatic concerned with the Royal Family.”

“Fanatic?” Bradley repeated, confused.

“Fanatic, yes. The Princess is still unmarried, of course, and as she is of marrying age, the King does not want any fanatics or obsessive social climbers anywhere near her.”

“Then why did he invite them?” Maverick asked dryly, gesturing to a group of nobles on the other side of the room. At Ice’s expression, Bradley turned to Maverick with a small smirk. “Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t know proper decorum at these events, Mav.”

“If you would all please get into your order,” a voice boomed from the entryway.

Bradley followed Maverick and stood at the very end of the line. Straightening up, he stared ahead, waiting for the King and Princess to finally arrive. He had seen photos of them, of course, but meeting them in person was different. The black and white of the photos still hid details that Bradley felt like he needed to know if he was going to act as a guard to the three princesses.

The doors opened as Bradley turned his head to watch the King step into the room and greet Ice at the head of the line. Maverick told Bradley that the King was a bit stuffy and a stickler for the rules, but when one truly got to know him outside of his duties, he was a man of exceptional character with a strong, caring nature.

Turning his head again, Bradley paused when he saw the Princess Alexandra step into the room.

Her hair was curled and pinned back into place in a bun that Bradley was sure could probably survive a bomb. She wore a simple gray dress and coat with matching heels, looking a bit like an accountant as she followed a few steps behind her father. And the necklace around her neck was quite simple for the future Queen.

But when she looked down the line and briefly locked eyes with him, there was no mistaking her for an ordinary woman. Her gaze was sharp, calculating, analyzing every minute detail put in front of her, down to the shine of each medal on each man’s chest and the quality of the thread below it. Her quietness that the papers liked to discuss was not timidness, but simply a pause.

Like a lioness waiting in the grass for the right moment to strike.

~~~~~

Princess Alexandra had been through about a thousand lineups in her life and every single one was as boring as the last. There were never people that she wanted to meet—scholars, artists, individuals who did not treat her like a dainty doll that they could manipulate as they pleased, but rather a strong woman with her own thoughts.

No, it was just a lineup of stuffy statesmen and nobles that all thought she was an idiot waiting for her chance to burn it all down through her own delusion.

But she didn’t mind Prime Minister Kazansky.

“Your Royal Highness,” Ice greeted her with a nod of his head, “it is a pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Prime Minister,” she returned, shaking his hand briefly. “And please tell me that I have the continued mercy of having you at my side at lunch.”

“Indeed, miss.”

“Good,” she stated with a genuine smile before she was ushered on.

Going down the line of statesmen and nobles, she had to bite back a grimace when she saw the next man in the lineup. Michael Warrington, the next Earl of Avon. And the man who seemed so intent on seducing her that it was honestly laughable. She had about as much interest in his serpentine smile, bad breath, and small mind as she had interest in getting shot in the face.

“Lord Warrington,” she greeted him politely.

“Your Royal Highness, it is a pleasure to see your beautiful face again,” he drawled, shaking her hand for a bit longer. Thank goodness she was wearing gloves, or she would have to thoroughly sanitize her hands after this encounter. “We missed your presence at the races. I believe you are a good luck charm for our horses.”

“You are too kind, Lord Warrington.” As she turned to the next man in the line, she muttered under her breath, “Really too kind.”

Making her way down the rest of the way, Alexandra came to the last two men in line. They were both dressed in naval uniforms that were freshly pressed and medals that were recently heavily shined. But she could tell that they were both not used to these events. And that automatically made them more interesting to her.

“The Captain Peter Mitchell of the Royal Navy,” her attendant introduced Maverick to her.

“Captain Mitchell,” she stated, extending her hand for him to shake. “My father has told me a great many stories of your valiance in the Royal Navy.”

“I do hope only the stories that paint me in a good light, Your Highness.”

“Only those that paint him in a good light, I’m afraid,” she replied with a note a humor in her tone. “What brings you to our fine palace today, Captain Mitchell?”

“Military matters, miss.”

“Of course.”

“And the matter of your security, as well.”

“My security?” Alexandra repeated, trying to not show her confusion.

“Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw of the Royal Navy,” her attendant continued, pushing her along.

With her usual stately mask slipping, Alexandra stepped to the side, turning to the man standing beside Maverick, whom her father had been talking to for a few moments longer than the other guests. Looking up at the lieutenant, she felt her cheeks instantly warm with girlish embarrassment that she swore she had outgrown.

He was tall, but not gangly. Nowhere near gangly. The white fabric of his naval uniform was absolutely pristine and outlined the size of his strong frame. His face was tanned, showing that he spent much time out in the sun, and he wore a finely trimmed mustache on his upper lip that framed his plump lips.

She wouldn’t mind statesmen who looked more like him.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw,” she greeted him, offering him her hand.

“Your Highness,” he returned politely, nodding his head to her before shaking her hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“The honor is all mine, Lieutenant,” she stated softly.

“Alexandra,” her father called, causing her to turn to him, “Lieutenant Bradshaw will be joining you and your sisters in the country.”

“Wonderful,” was all she managed, shooting Bradley a small smile. “Well, I look forward to spending more time with you, Lieutenant.”

“I as well, Your Highness.”

Alexandra nodded back to Bradley before following her father towards the dining room where the state lunch would be taking place. When they were a few steps away, her stately expression slipped, and she turned to her father with a look that her mother used to shoot him when she knew that details were being kept from her.

“I’m supposed to go to the country with Ellie and Sophie next week?” she asked quietly, but with a strong measure of force behind her words. “And with a guard?”

“Something has come up,” Beau replied just as quietly as they approached the table. “We will discuss it later tonight.”

“Or never at all?” Alexandra needled, pursing her lips together.

She shot her father one last look before walking around to her side of the table. Beau took a breath before moving to do the same. He was never concerned that his eldest daughter would be able to keep herself composed at these state events. But he was concerned for the sharpness of her words afterwards.

Bradley found himself at the end of the table, but yet he could still see the Princess standing in the middle, beside Ice. She kept her composed expression, but the daggers in her eyes only seemed to have sharpened.

The lioness was getting ready to pounce.

Part 2

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queers-gambit · 2 years

Text

Bright Light

prompt: a Royal Wedding takes place.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 7.0k+

note: your honor, i can fix him!

warnings: you know what, idk if there's cursing, but it's me, so i feel like it's a good bet. baby making smut, small tension, rumors that cause discomfort, talk of previous abusive marriage.

previous: part four: Total Eclipse of the Heart

next: final / part six: One Sunrise at a Time

Chaos had descended over the Capital, and in the Red Keep, servants were losing their minds running around trying to perfect everything for the upcoming wedding festivities. The Prince of the City, Daemon, the groom, was highly opinionated on his nuptials and was adamant to surprise his bride, keeping you out of the loop so that you might see the decorations candidly.

The only detail Daemon was unaware of was your dress, and the Queen Alicent had brought in dressers and tailors from all over the country (and three from across the Narrow Sea) to bring you options. In the end, there was a gorgeous white silk number selected, and Viserys had it sent off to a jeweler.

When the dress returned, it was encrusted with dark rubies that would surely compliment the dark Targaryen robe you were to be draped in later in the day.

And to start, you were roused from sleep by Mary - who had been fighting Daemon off at the door, insisting the groom cannot see the bride before the ceremony. "Just lemme kiss 'er!" Daemon grunted against the door, but the smaller maid threw her entire weight into it, slamming the lock in place.

"No! You'll see her soon! Go get ready!" Mary barked through the wood.

"Mary!"

"Daemon! I open this door, and I'm throwing a shoe!"

It was quiet for a moment before Daemon's sigh was heard before his forehead lightly thumped to the wood, "Tell her I love her, please."

"She knows," Mary smirked at you, laid in bed still. "But I'll tell her, Prince. Now, go! Don't be late!"

You enjoyed several cups of tea as you got ready, the Queen allowing you to use a bigger suite to prepare yourself. In fact, Alicent was present with Rhaenyra, and as Mary was pinning your necklace in place, there were two fists pounding at the door.

"Let 'em in," you smiled with a knowing chuckle, readjusting your dress in the mirror as Rhaenyra turned to open the double doors.

"Lads," she smirked to Kase and Jamie, letting them pass over the threshold. "Nice to see you, too."

"Hi, Nyra," Kase teased lightly, squeezing her shoulder as he passed into the room.

"Oh, wow," Jamie breathed, eyes wide as he caught sight of you. At least Kase remembered protocol and bowed to the Princess and Queen, before, too, gawking at you. "Y-You look... Wow."

"Yeah," Kase agreed, "you're a vision, step-mother. The Gods envy your beauty, my goodness, is Daemon a lucky bastard."

Your head cocked gently, offering, "You know, should either of you feel comfortable to do so... Maybe you'd like to drop the 'step' part in the whole 'step-mother' thing...?"

"Yeah?" Kase beamed, Jamie smirking gently.

"We'll talk of that later," Jamie directed diplomatically. "For now, we are to escort you to the Great Hall."

"The both of you?" Alicent asked, her hands folded neatly, brows perked in curiosity.

"Well, who else?" Jamie cocked his head lightly.

"Jamie," you warned.

"No, forgive me, you mistake my tone for disrespect. Your Grace, I only meant that her father would be the one to usually give her away, but we all know the present situation. He'd rather give his blessing to a different daughter..."

You sighed in guilt as Kase mentioned, "Food supplies continue to dwindle, too. The people grow restless from the Lord's restriction from his land's farming."

"People are going to revolt against the Royal Feast," Rheanyra worried, glancing around. "Should we not put more guards in place? What if something were to happen?"

You nodded absently, "What might happen?"

"Wouldn't put it past the citizens to riot," Jamie shrugged. "They grow uneasy as the supply lessens. Vendors don't venture around here much anymore..."

"I have made the arrangement with the kitchen staff that all leftovers are to be given to the orphanages of the city," you spoke softly, pinning your earrings in.

"Ah!" A voice boomed from the doorway, making you all jump slightly. "Oh, my apologies," Viserys beamed as he stepped into the room. "It is hard for me to contain my glee!"

"Husband," Alicent greeted, "what a surprise, we were not expecting you."

"No, no," he chuckled, "normally I would not bother, but this is a fine and rare occasion. My brother marrying his woman," he sighed, looking you up and down, "and my, what a vision she is. My Lady, being as we are soon to be considered family to one another, I was honored when Daemon asked me to bring this to you," he showed the velvet box in his hands.

"Oh," you breathed, stepping towards the King, "you did not have to do this, please, Your Grace, you should be - "

"Nonsense," he assured with a grin. "My brother is nervous and I thought by seeing you and giving this gift, I might assure him that you are okay in this, too."

"Oh, more than okay," you assured. "I'm eager for this union, Your Grace. Um, but... This custom? I do not know it?" You wondered, pointing to the gift.

"'Tis not a custom," he nodded, "but my own brother's vocation. Here, open it... Maybe you'll wear it today?"

You smiled gently and opened the velvet box, gasping, "By all the Gods! Daemon!"

"What is it!?" Rhaenyra asked in excitement, everyone forming a circle around the wooden table the box rested on. "Oh, wow..."

"That's got to cost more than... Well, more than my life," Kase giggled, looking at the gems in the velvet box. "Well, one thing is for sure."

"Hmm?" Jamie hummed, eyes bulging as he couldn't look away.

"That man is whipped," Kase laughed. "I mean - seriously!? Who sends their future wife something like this, but a man who is far beyond smitten?"

He'd sent you a beautiful diamond necklace that was strung in a way to look like tear drops down your collarbones, neck, and chest. To say it was beautiful was an understatement but by every God there ever was, you were in love with it. There were matching earrings that would push into your piercings and dangle in single drops, swinging with the extra wisps of hair that escaped your pinned up-do.

"I don't know what to say," you whispered, tears gathering. "I-I do not deserve this - my Gods, how expensive this must've been!"

"If I may?" Viserys smiled lightly as Alicent pushed a handkerchief into your hand. You nodded. "This necklace has been in the Targaryen family for ages now. Generations, even. The last to own this was my grandmother, the Queen Alysanne, and if Daemon is gifting it to you, it is because he views you as family - as blood. No matter where you hail, he is assuring you that you will always have a place in his life, my Lady. If it not be too bold, might I?" He gestured to the necklace, making you nod furiously.

Mary reached up to unclasp the other necklace, moving from your way as Viserys stepped up. He sighed when the necklace latched, you turning to show him the product after you switched out your earrings. "Oh, this is it," Rhaenyra nodded, clapping slightly. "You look breathtaking!"

"You look beautiful, sister," Viserys smirked. "I shall take my leave - "

"Wait," you swallowed thickly, feeling your nerves spike as the King smiled patiently. "Um... I could never repay you - or-or Daemon for this, for all you've done. But... Should it please you, I'd like to ask if it be possible for us to fly to Dragonstone where... Where Daemon and I might marry per Old Valyrian traditions?"

Viserys nodded, "Yes, yes, what an excellent idea. We shall travel at the weeks end, for this week, the whole city will celebrate you. Then, after, we might make it to Dragonstone, and there, you and Daemon might reside for a period of time."

"Oh, do you mean... You do not want us in court?"

"No, sister," he smirked, "I only mean to say that you would be welcomed to start your life as a married couple at Dragonstone."

"Oh," you breathed, giggling after. "How silly - yes, um, yes, that would be most pleasing, Your Grace. Thank you."

"Of course," he promised, giving your hands one last squeeze before taking his leave.

You sighed nervously, looking at yourself in the mirror and feeling otherworldly. "M-Might I ask the room a question?"

"Of course, whatever you might wonder," Jamie permitted as Kase helped himself to the complimentary food left on a platter.

"Am I who Daemon will want forever?" You worried, staring in the mirror. "You do not think he will... Grow old of me, do you?"

"My Lady," Rhaenyra grinned, "I can with full conviction say that my uncle loves you deeply and would see your life together start as soon as possible. If he had his way, he'd of married you a decade ago."

"Yeah?" You sniffled.

"Of course," she smiled. "You're a vision, truly. My uncle is very lucky."

"Let's not keep them waiting," Alicent nodded, ushering everyone from the room. Kase carried the train of your silk gown, Jamie kept a tight hold of you as you focused only on your steps. To say you were nervous was an understatement as this wedding was to be a 'public' event.

"Just breathe," Jamie soothed, patting the hand curled around his elbow. "You look radiant, and you're about to marry the love of your life. Right?"

"Right..." You felt tears well in your eyes, "You know, I'm sorry I couldn't love your father."

"In truth, we rarely did," Kase smirked.

"Do not worry," Jamie nodded, "we understand how politics work. But know how happy we are to bare witness to this occasion."

"I am overjoyed you both are here," you sighed.

"Aline and Jocey are coming, too," Jamie informed, leading you down the stone stairs carefully. "They are very excited to see you."

You managed to keep your tears at bay until you reached the landing, seeing the swarms of servants in the short distance. "A moment, please," you whispered to them, tears slowly leaking as you took hold of one of their hands each, "because I need to tell you this. For years now, you have welcomed me into your family, and I have felt every ounce of love you have. I-I know I did not birth you, and I know your sisters are even married themselves, but know that I think of you all as my own kin."

Kase squeezed your hand, "You are kin."

"Then please... Do not let me trip," you chuckled, wiping your cheeks of your tears as the two lads smirked at each other.

"Here," Jamie nodded, using a handkerchief to dab at your tears. "You are going to ruin your make-up, mother."

"Oh," you wept openly, latching onto him. "Oh, yo-you called me mother! Oh, my boy!"

He laughed and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug, one that lasted a few moments before being joined by Kase. The three of you gave one final squeeze before you accepted the cloth and fixed your face, Kase nudging Jamie, "Knew you were a softy, hey?"

"Piss off," Jamie laughed.

"You made her cry."

"It's a happy cry," you grumbled lightly, swatting at them. "All right, all right, help me... How's my face?"

You sniffled again and looked at them, blinking a few times. Kase assured, "Beautiful as ever. Truly, Daemon is lucky. We often hear it whispered at court that you are truly the beauty of this country. Maybe he doesn't deserve you."

"There's still time to run," Jamie teased.

"No, no," you chuckled. "I'm ready to marry him - Gods, am I ready," you nodded, waving your hands to cool your face as Jamie tucked the cloth away.

"If you need it again, you know where to find me," he chuckled, offering his arm. "Are you ready, mother?"

Kase mimicked his action, beaming, "Mum?"

"Oh, my sweet boys," you whispered, taking their arms and starting forward. "'S lot of people."

"They're all intrigued by the Rogue Prince settling down willingly," Jamie explained.

"Yes, word spread of his marriage declaration," Kase added, both speaking quietly so only you heard as you approached the doors to the throne room - which had been transformed to host the wedding ceremony. "Everyone was so skeptical - they're curious about you."

You sighed.

"Not helping," Jamie muttered under his breath.

"Sorry," Kase winced some. "You all right?"

"Yeah, yeah," you whispered, readjusting your stance. "All right," you nodded to the guard, who nodded back, and gave the signal to start the musical procession. "Don't let me fall, lads."

"Never," they assured in union, the double doors opening, and your mouth hanging open.

"Oh, my Gods," you couldn't hold back, gawking at the interior of the throne room.

"When Daemon's left in charge," Jamie muttered. "Gods does he go all out," Kase finished.

You evened your breathing and readied your face, the two young lords leading you down the stone steps. The entire hall was packed - like it was months ago for Rhaenyra's wedding - yet you could only focus on the aisle ahead of you. Daemon had wanted a 'public' event, and that meant having the actual ceremony in front of everyone before the celebratory feast was to begin.

And at the end of the aisle was a Septon ready to perform the ceremony, and at the base of the stairs, there stood your fiancé. Daemon was fighting back a grin as you walked, his brother stood beside the Septon as a sign of power - but also blessing of this union.

There was nobody to stand on your side - or so you thought. There stood both of your step-daughters, tears in their eyes as they grinned at you. When you came to a halt, Daemon stepped up and offered his hand to Jamie first, "Son."

He smirked, teasing, "Step-father."

"Oh, what a title," you whispered. Jamie took Daemon's hand in a clasp, nodding meaningfully before Daemon did the same with Kase. The two lads then bent down some to peck either of your cheeks, moving to stand with their sisters as the Prince turned to you finally.

"Dove," he breathed, looking you up and down; taking your hands in his. "Gods, do you look breathtaking."

"Me? You look incredible," you smiled, biting your bottom lip as emotion was coating your throat. Viserys, with a grin of his own, subtly cleared his throat, and made Daemon sigh lightly.

"Come," he whispered, leading you carefully up the stairs. As the Septon gave his sermon, Daemon's eyes never left yours, and for a moment, you swore you could see tears swelling. Jamie cloaked you in the colors and sigil of 'your' House, more words spoken, hands being bound together, vows made, love professed, promises made, and when time, the cloak fell from your figure as Daemon eagerly twirled his black and red cloak around your shoulders.

After a few more promises, the Septon beamed, "Daemon? You may now - finally - kiss your bride, and bring her under your House officially. May the Gods shine upon your marriage, and let it prosper."

Daemon didn't wait a moment longer to step closer and pull you in, his lips smashing to yours as the entire court room erupted in loud cheers. Viserys clapped loudly, and even Alicent was grinning authentically; Daemon's one hand holding your waist tightly as the other slid across your jaw to hold your neck, too.

You chuckled against his lips, patting his chest, "Okay, okay, c'mon."

"Oh, my wife," he purred against your lips, pressing another kiss. "Finally."

"I love you," you promised, the Septon and Viserys moving away as servants were bringing out the head table and dressing it quickly; giving you both a moment to bask in your glory of finally wedding each other. "Is this real?"

"Yes, my love," he nodded, nose nuzzling yours. "Gods, you look beautiful."

"Which reminds me," you grinned, "the decorations look incredible, my husband. But where do these flowers hail?"

"They're called Wisteria, my wife," he smirked, pecking your lips, "and I had them shipped from Pentos."

"Daemon," you whined lightly.

"Well, in truth, Rhaenyra went with me to get them all," he chuckled lightly, letting both of his arms coil around your silk-covered waist.

"You did not..."

"I wanted to make sure you got the wedding you deserve," Daemon chuckled. "You like it?"

"It's beautiful," you assured. "I do not think I deserve it."

"You deserve so much more, my pet," he whispered.

"My boys called you step-father," you returned.

"That is good," he nodded, "is it not?"

"It is," you rushed, nodding, "just shocking, I suppose."

"Means they accept us," Daemon smirked. "And we will remain to see them marry."

"Yeah?"

"Of course, whatever my dove wants," he promised, glancing to the side. "Come, let's sit."

You let your hand tangle with Daemon's, moving for the high-table. You and Daemon sat in the middle - with Viserys right beside him, and then Alicent, and the Hand, Ser Strong. Beside you was the Princess Rhaenyra, and her husband Lord Laenor beside her. Their families were in the crowd, your own being lost quickly to the merriment.

As time passed, you found yourself leaning into your husband, hands tangled together, and gossiping lightly.

"Do you see the Lady Alloway?" You whispered, nose grazing up the skin in front of his ear before placing a slow, tender kiss.

He hummed, "She dresses as if working the brothels."

"Her usual attire," you chuckled, "but the color she wears..."

"Targaryen," he noted, turning his head to mutter to you. "And the Ser Thaller?"

"Gods," you giggled, "he's dressed as a peacock, no?"

He chuckled in return, "Thank the Gods for giving me a woman with a sense of humor."

You hummed, petting over his cheek that you weren't kissing. "This feels right," you sighed lightly, "to sit here, with my husband..."

He nodded, "How ready I am for this feast to be over."

"We've apparently a whole week to celebrate," you smirked, "might wanna slow down, my love."

"I'm putting a baby in you - tonight," He assured, nodding definitively. "There will be no slowing down for us, pet. But... My brother does like to prance."

"Well," you smirked, "perhaps I will join his lead. My husband hasn't even asked me to dance."

"Oh, that's punishable," Daemon shook his head, standing. "My love, my Lady wife, would you honor me with a dance?"

Taking his hand, you stood to your feet, "I'd love to, my sweet Lord husband."

He chuckled and lead you to the crowded floor, the pair of you stuck together like glue. Gentle touches, soft caresses, hushed words, and bright, unfiltered grins. When Daemon grew a thirst, he took leave to relieve that, and so gave time for you to overhear a few Ladies of the court gossiping about how they had seen Prince Daemon sneaking in and out of the whorehouses not two days prior.

You tried not to listen, you really did. But the women spoke with such conviction that it was hard to ignore. More so when you heard a few other whispers being spread - all regarding Daemon's infidelity.

Confusion hurt your heart, turning to spy your husband smirking as he spoke to Crowned Heir Rhaenyra - a smirk that meant he was being less than innocent. Perhaps being flirty, but definitely being mischievous.

Something in your chest snapped, and then a hand was grabbing yours; making you gasp and turn with surprise. "Oh, Y-Your Grace, forgive me, I was lost in thought."

The Queen nodded, "No need, I am sorry for being so startling. I came to check on you," she glanced around. "I expected Daemon to be on you the entire night."

"Oh, no, he was, uh... Thirsty," you nodded meekly.

"Does something bother you, my Lady? You should be smiling, enjoying the festivities," she gestured outward to the party. "I hear the Prince spent quite a lot of money for this all."

"Oh, I don't doubt it," you nodded, twiddling with your fingers. "Um, in truth, Your Grace... There is something on my mind preventing me from enjoying the merriment."

"And what might that be?"

"Will you be honest with me?"

"I will try to be," She smiled warmly.

You gulped, "It seems as if the Ladies of court have much to say about our union, and there were some more... Scandalous gossips regarding the Princess and her uncle, my Lord husband."

"No, no, my Lady, do not plague yourself with petty rumors. The Ladies speak in jealousy, you need not worry because I have seen and heard first hand how your Lord husband truly feels."

"Then why is he with her and not me, on all days...?" You sighed, bowing after. "My apologies, Your Grace, I did not mean to burden you with my worries. I will go dance, I think."

Before she could response, you spun around to disappear amongst the dancers. You searched for anyone with defined jugs that held strong, exquisite, expensive Braavosi wine. When a servant boy was located, he was all too happy to fill your goblet - though, he looked nervous, asking, "Is that enough, my Lady?"

"Maybe a bit more, love, if you would?" He nodded and poured more, waiting until you assured, "That's good, that's perfect, thank you, lad. Are you having an all right night?"

"Of course, my Lady - "

"Nobody's been mean to you, have they?"

"Well," he looked sheepish, "in truth, my Lady, your father's been... Very drunk all night, and I think the wine makes him bolder, louder."

You nodded, "Yes, wines will do that to people. Do me a favor, and tomorrow morning, you will come to me and report any Lords or Ladies who were rude to you, yes?"

"Oh, well, if my Lady insists," he breathed with relief.

"Your name?"

"Arren."

"Arren...?"

"Waters, my Lady."

"Arren Waters," you repeated. "Good good, then I will know who to call upon. What say you do me a favor, Arren?"

"Whatever my Lady needs, I will do with pride," he beamed, standing straighter; rightening his shoulders so both hands cradled the special jug of wine carefully.

"Will you be my eyes and ears tonight?" You muttered. "You blend in, you're young, nobody's thinking twice about your presences. But where I cannot be, where I cannot hear, will you do so for me?"

"Oh, whatever you need," he nodded again. "I can report tomorrow morning?"

"During breakfast before the tournament." you nodded. "Thank you, again, Arren."

With a wink, you turned and again, melted into the crowd; downing half of your goblet in two full drinks before someone was catching your arm. "Mother!" Kase laughed, obviously already drunk off his arse. "Come have a dance with me, please!"

"I do not think I am nearly drunk enough for that," You laughed, trying to stabilize him. But he only groaned.

"Then drink faster!"

"Mum!" This time Jamie called, leading his sisters Aline and Jocey behind him.

"Mum?" Aline repeated with distain. "When did that start?"

"Today," you chuckled, hugging both of your step-daughters, offering a kiss to their cheeks. "I will take it as a wedding present from them. It is good to see you both, you look beautiful."

"Thank you, and might I say you look extraordinary," Jocey smiled, preening lightly over you.

"It is good the lads have you," Aline added.

"I am determined to find Jamie a suitable wife," you chuckled.

"No, it's more than that," Jocey shrugged lightly, watching Jamie and Kase throw an arm around each other's shoulders as they spoke with animation. "Thank you for being there when we weren't."

"Much like myself, you ladies were preforming your duty to your family," you nodded back. "Loving you lot like family was far too easy."

"Hmm, I suppose that explains the rumors," Aline winced some, glancing at her sister.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, chest hollowing.

"Don't," Jocey warned with a glare.

"Y/N, tell us in truth," Aline turned to face you with determination steeling her features, "were you cheating on our father?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I ask if you started sleeping with the Prince before our father passed - by what I might say are strange circumstances."

Confusion swirled in your gut, but then it all clicked in your heart and mind. "You'd consider words of whispers from my jealous sister over what you know to be tied and true from me? Fascinating, considering you were just thanking me."

"Your sister?" Aline cocked her head.

"She is the only person I can think who would ever start such a vile rumor," you explained, cocking your head some. "Someone who would not care for repercussions because they believe themself untouchable."

"So, we are to believe our father's death did not come by hand of your new husband, the Prince?" Aline crossed her arms tightly, and you took another mouthful of wine. "Our father was a solider and did not often lose!"

"I'd tread carefully, Lady Aline Tully," you cocked your head some, looking her up and down, "for rumors of such hateful accusations can get one into a lot of trouble. I did not love your father, this is true, and I was unable to ever give him a child. But as rumor has it, your mothers met fates similar to what I would have met, should your father not of fallen during honorable sword-play. Now," you finished your goblet, "your brother asked me for a dance. I suggest you both try to enjoy the festivities and not dwell on my bedroom habits, because I promise you won't get far. As I'm sure you've imagined, or perhaps even heard through your precious rumors, the Prince is insatiable and there is too much for either of you to ever fathom. Have a good night, Ladies, I look forward to us dining in the morning."

Setting your goblet with more force than what was necessary to a near-by table, you moved around the two whispering-sisters to smile at Kase. "I think you asked for a dance, my boy?"

"Oh, hell yeah! Let's go!" He laughed, pulling you onto the dance floor and almost instantly joining in-step to whatever music played. "Jamie, c'mon!" Kase laughed, and Jamie followed; with their sisters watching from the sidelines, the three of you easily joined the steps of those around you.

You felt his eyes burn into your back, but paid your new husband no mind - because if he could be overly distracted by his niece, you'd not give him the time of day. However, just as you turned and anticipated stepping into Jamie's arms, Daemon was there to take your hands in his, leading you in your dance.

"Oh," you sighed, "nice of you to finally join me."

"Oh-hooo, is that malice in your voice, my love?" He teased.

"Why did you look so close to your niece, Daemon? Is there something I do not know?" You asked, not wanting to tip-toe around anything anymore. "Are you playing me for a fool?"

He sighed against your ear, still holding onto you by latching to your waist as people around you changed partners. "Dove, there's nothing for you to know, nor worry over, because there isn't anything there. I have my eyes only for you, and I would not have married you if I didn't want you. Do not think so little of me that I would ever lead you on."

"Then you are no longer visiting the Street of Silk?"

His lips moved over the shell of your ear, "There is no time, nor cum left in me with how insatiable you are."

Funny how he used that word to describe you, too.

You sighed, "Do not avoid the question, Daemon. People talk - people spy. I do not wish to know that I have just married a man who is going to treat me like the last did."

Daemon came to a halt, and everything around you stood still - despite still moving at a normal place. It was just you and he, and he looked almost betrayed as his tongue switched to High Valyrian. "You would compare me to that fat fuck? The man who abused you? Only ever hurt you?"

"I would only ever have you tell me the truth - please," you begged in response. "I cannot stand the way they speak of us, yet I can endure it for you, but only if you're honest. I cannot bare the idea of you in the arms of another woman, so, if you've visited the Street, please, no more. Please, just... Come to me, instead. I know you are not used to a loving marriage, but we are not the same as before, and I am not the Lady Royce."

He frowned, "How could I let you believe I could ever want anyone else? That I would ever be with anyone else? I know you are not like the Bronzed Bitch - and I thank the Gods for it! I married you for love, and that is rare in this country - in this lifetime, that I am not keen on ruining it so swiftly. So, no, my pet, I have not visited the Street of Silk since you came back into my life - for there is no reason for me to go there ever again. Less you want to," he ended with a small smirk.

"The girls asked if you killed their father," you told him, worry shooting through your heart as you kept your conversation private by speaking in his mother's tongue. "I've reason to believe Jasline and my father continue to pour poison in the ears that are willing to listen, and I am beginning to feel... I don't know, trapped? The truth is, I have no land, nor titles - "

"I do not care for that, and I've told you time and again, you are all I want because you are all I need." Daemon's hands moved to cradle your jaw, sweeping his thumb over your cheekbones, "And then, please, talk to me, pet, and do not listen to their words. You and I know the truth, and we just swore vows to one another that we would not lie, nor hold secrets."

You nodded, "Then it is just petty gossip?"

"As always," he assured in a whisper, pressing a long kiss to your forehead. "Are you tired, dove?"

"A bit," you admitted, "today was overwhelming."

"Then let us sit," he wrapped his arms around you, moving for the high banquet table again.

"We cannot just... Leave?"

"Not yet," he sighed, "because Viserys has not departed yet. The King is the first to leave, or he give's dismissal to us. Come here," he lowered you into your seat before taking his, nudging a platter closer. "Eat, dove. Something tells me you're in for a long night."

"Daemon," you chuckled, but did indeed begin to graze.

"Why would your step-daughters ask about me?" He asked quietly, leaning his elbows to his knees to be closer to you, chin gently rubbing on your upper arm.

"They are suspicious of how their father died," you sighed. "Believed it not to be as natural as we tried to pass."

"Hmm," he considered, leaning in to press his lips over your shoulder. "What did you tell them?"

"That it was unwise to make such vile accusations."

He chuckled, "My good and loyal girl."

"Here," you fed him a bit of cake that had been passed out. He hummed as he licked his lips with a smirk, making you tease, "You're making it very hard to just sit here."

"I had an idea, actually," he mentioned, glancing nervously at you. "You still hold the Old Gods, do you not?"

"I was born in the North," you nodded, leaning back in your chair as he did, head tilted down to look at you. "I find peace at the Weirwood, I prefer to pray there, yes."

Daemon smirked, "Then I've a surprise for you."

"I do, too."

"Hey?" He smirked. "I'm supposed to gift you, my dove."

Your eyes rolled playfully, "I'm allowed to gift you, too."

"Hmm," he considered, "all right, what is it?"

"Well, what is yours?"

He smirked, "You will see."

"Then so shall you," you smirked back.

"Devilish woman," he purred, leaning in to press his lips to yours in a smoldering kiss.

"Daemon," you warned with a small giggle.

"They will get used to this," he purred, "for I do not intend to hold back on my affections."

You sighed lightly, "I do not know what I did to deserve you."

"Everything right," he promised in a whisper.

"Brother," Viserys called, "brother! Come, give a speech!"

"No, Viserys, it's getting late - "

"All the more reason!" Viserys laughed. "Speech! Speech! Your King wants a speech!"

"Come on," you smiled at Daemon, "say a few words of thanks, wish them all a well-and-true tournament, and let us be done, hmm? He might let us leave after."

"You might be right," he muttered, Viserys rousing the whole hall to call for Daemon's words. When he stood, they cheered heartily, making you grin behind your hand. "Friends, family," he called, "peers, come, raise your glasses."

He lead the way by holding his goblet up, continuing, "I'd like to give a toast to my new bride, and tell her publicly, that I am without a doubt beyond grateful for our blessed union - after all this time," he smirked down at you, offering his free hand. When you stood, his arm snaked around your waist to hold you to his side, speaking loudly to the hall, "A toast to my gorgeous wife, and to a prosperous marriage that's finally come to fruition." His goblet rose higher in the air. "May the Seven bless us, and bless all of you - who have chosen to celebrate with us this week!" The hall broke our in an outrageous applause. "May the wine flow freely and you all find your winnings this week!"

They cheered again, making you smile as Daemon prompted, "To the new Princess of the City!"

You felt your eyes bulge slightly as he grinned and took his obligatory sip of wine - the hall echoing his words before taking their own drinks. "What did you just say?" You asked quietly.

"Viserys has written decree that your official title is Princess - though, you will have no claim to the throne."

"Oh, my Gods," you breathed, looking between his eyes as you pet over his chest. "If we weren't in a room full of people, I'd take you on that Throne again. Daemon - this is too much - "

"No, I'd give you the world if I could," he grinned. "My Princess."

"Dameon - "

"It's a title, my love," he nodded gently. "We will come to discuss your position in court, and perhaps on the Small Counsel."

You nodded gently, "You're too much sometimes..."

He shrugged some, looking over your shoulder before shifting you lightly into his side. The King approached you both, grinning widely as he laughed, opening his arms, "My! You know how to give a toast, brother."

"He's gifted with words when he chooses to be," you teased, patting your husband's stomach.

"And you!"

"And me!"

Viserys chuckled, and unknown to you, clocked the look his brother gave him. "Well, today's been long and if you'd like to retire, feel free to send orders to the kitchens for wine or whatever have you."

"Thank you, Your Grace," you breathed in relief, watching him smirk with a nod - offering more congratulations before bidding goodnight and taking his leave.

"Come," Daemon smirked, taking your hand and leading you straight for the doors. A few drunker guests hollered and whooped after you both; your legs jogging lightly to keep up with Daemon's elongated strides. He wanted to get you away from the crude comments as soon as possible, and lead you away up the stairs - out to the foyer - and then down a hall that did not house your room.

"Daemon? Love? C'mon, slow down," you whispered, tugging on his hand.

"Sorry," he nodded back, glancing over your shoulder, "there are some who take rudely to the after-wedding traditions."

Your eyes rolled, "Fuck them..."

"No, you're gonna fuck me," he smirked, leading you around another corner.

"Why're we going to the Godswood?" You wondered. "Sweetheart, aren't we going to bed?"

"Eager, are we?"

"I feel my slick dripping down my thighs," you bit back, "and it's a husband's duty to handle that, is it not?"

"I'll handle it," he assured, looking this way and that, "after I marry you in the eyes of your Gods."

"Daemon?"

But he paused, revealing the Godswood to you. There was only Mary there, beaming as she waited for you both. "Marry me, again?" He smirked at you.

"Oh," you breathed, forehead to his for a moment as you squeezed his hand. "Yes, yes, yes, this is - yes, it's perfect!"

"Come," he nodded, leading you up to Mary - and within minutes, your hands were bound, and you were repeating more vows to one another - ending togther,

"I am her's, and she is mine." "I am his, and he is mine."

"Prince Daemon, you may kiss your bride," Mary beamed, watching Daemon swoop in again to kiss you with all tongue; hands holding you still, and keeping you pressed against his front. Mary quietly left the Godswood to escape for the halls of the Keep, peaking back to watch with a grin as your arms wrapped around Daemon's neck.

"Wait," you breathed, pausing your kiss to glance around - but failed to hold back your moan when his mouth descended to your neck. "Daemon," you begged.

"Shh," he hushed, licking a bold strip up to your pulse point. "We're alone, I've had it arranged."

"What?" You asked, pressing your chest into his as your back arched.

He sighed lightly, "I've paid the servants off to keep everyone away."

"And you trust them?"

"If they value their lives..."

You giggled lightly, "Threatening people in my name?"

"For your honor," he purred, tugging your hands with him. He moved around the tree, allowing you a single corner of privacy as he unlaced the Targaryen cloak from your shoulders. "Tell me how you want it."

"Breed me," you spoke instantly, letting your tongue lap with his as he splayed the cloak out, "and then take me to bed properly."

"Whatever my wife commands, I will provide," he purred, scraping his teeth over your jaw before turning you rapidly - making you gasp. "On your knees," he spoke in your ear, lowering you to the ground, and yanking at his belts.

You positioned yourself on your hands and knees, ignoring the cold ground, and pulling your skirt up over your hips to give a wiggle; peering back at him. He groaned and reached a hand for your warmth, hissing through his teeth as he prodded his fingers into your wet heat - other hand desperate to free himself.

"Put a baby in me, Daemon," you demanded.

"Yes," he huffed, humping into you as your back bowed. "Oh, fuck," he hissed, sinking all the way into you as your hips adjusted to his length.

You moaned in response, "Wanna make you a Daddy."

He panted as he took hold of your hips, "Keep talking."

"Want your cum dripping outta me," you whined, bracing your hands as he pounded into you. "And my belly swollen with your child. Want you touching me - fuck - fuck - fuck. Harder, please - "

"Call me Dady, again."

"Oh, fuck, Daddy, yes, fuck me harder," you begged, cheek pressed to the soft velvet of the black cloak.

"Can you take it, pet?" he smirked, readjusting his hold; slapping a palm to your arse cheek, and relishing in the ripple of flesh.

"Yes, Daddy," you preened, his hand snaking around to hold your throat and bring you back into his chest. "Can handle anything you throw at me - promise, promise, yes, Daddy, please."

"Oh-hoo," he moaned, hips stuttering to hump into yours; hand tightening. "Take it, take it, take it," he seethed, hips punctuating each word. Your own hand drifted to rub at your clit, dropping to your chest as you went limp from your orgasm crashing into you almost violently. Daemon gave a small shout, hand latched to the back of your neck, and his hips grinding into yours as he found his end.

"Oh, fuck," you breathed, panting into the ground.

"Yeah," his grin was heard, a hand petting over your hair. "You get tighter everyday, pet."

"Hush," you laughed lightly, whining right after as he pulled his softening cock out of your cunt. He paused to push his fingers into your cunt, pushing his cum back up into you with an air of fascination.

Within 15 minutes, Daemon had you in his arms and entering your room to lay you on your bed - locking the door as you stripped from your wedding attire. When you peaked behind you, your husband was watching with a newly-poured goblet of wine, eyes raking over you. "Get on the bed," he demanded lowly, almost growling his words. "I'm not done with you, yet."

"Good," you nodded, sitting pretty and slowly opening your legs. Your fingers ran down your lips, toying with his cum that still leaked out of you - watching his throat bob. "I'm not pregnant yet."

"We'll fix that," he assured, standing to his feet to set his now-empty goblet aside.

"I want you bare," your head cocked.

"Making demands?"

"Isn't it my husband's duty to ensure I get what I want?" You smirked.

"My good girl," he smirked, "you're learning."

final / part six: One Sunrise at a Time

Midnight Calls masterlist

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen smut #daemon smut #daemon hotd #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd smut

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thebadgerclan · 1 year

Text

Mourning

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: The funeral of Dominik Vertov...

Ravka was in mourning. It was King Nikolai’s first decree after his coronation: the nation would observe two weeks of mourning for those lost during the Civil War. His second decree was that Commander Dominik Vertov would receive a state funeral. If not for Dominik and his sanctuary, the war would have been lost, and countless lives along with it. He was a hero, deserving of every honor, but beyond that he’d been Nikolai’s best friend, and the young King wanted to honor him however he could.

In the immediate aftermath of the war, Nikolai put on a mask. He had to be strong, he had to be decisive, he had to be brave. He oversaw the royal family’s–which consisted of himself and you, his Queen, now–return to Os Alta, he assembled his council, he signed pardon after pardon after pardon: all with his usual confidence, swagger, and smirk. But it was when he was alone, with you, that he crumbled.

No one saw how Nikolai shattered after Dominik’s death, how he clung to you and sobbed, how he was torn from sleep, the sight of his dearest friend dying in his arms haunting his dreams. There were the other nightmares too: of you dying, bleeding out, being torn apart by nichevo’ya, but as the day of Dominik’s funeral approached, the First Army Commander was heavy on the young King’s mind.

When Nikolai woke, he burrowed his way into your arms, wishing he could shut the world out. But you pressed a kiss to his forehead and coaxed him from your embrace. “Come on, my love,” you said. “I’ve got you.” Your maids and your husband’s valet entered soon after, assisting the two of you to prepare for the funeral. Your gown was simple: flowing layers of black silk and taffeta with sleeves that fell to your wrists. Elegant enough to denote your status as Queen, but plain enough for the occasion.

Nikolai wore an all black military dress uniform, the only denotation of his royal status the pale blue sash over his shoulder. He wore no crown, no medals, the only metal being his wedding band. When your maids and your husband’s valet left, you came to his side, wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder. Nikolai sighed, resting his hands atop yours.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said, and you kissed his jaw. “You can, Nikolai. I’ll be right by your side the whole time.” You knew there was little you could say to comfort your husband right now, but having you with him was more comforting than any words could be.” Nikolai turned in your arms, pulling you close, and you held him tightly, swaying side to side gently. “Begging your pardon, Your Majesties,” came the voice of one of your guards. “The procession is about to begin.”

Dominik was being laid to rest in an oak wood casket draped with the Ravkan flag. Arrangements of flowers laid atop it: from his mother, his brother, and from Nikolai himself. The casket would be carried through the streets of Os Alta on an open carriage pulled by four black stallions. His family would walk behind: his mother and brothers, and behind them, Nikolai and yourself. You watched as your husband greeted Dominik’s mother and brothers, watched as the composure he fought so hard to maintain slipped a bit.

You took your place behind Dominik’s family, reaching for Nikolai’s hand. “I’m right beside you,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’m always right beside you.” Your husband only nodded, but squeezed your hand back. With a striking drumbeat, the procession began, winding through the streets of the capital towards the chapel Dominik’s family had attended for years.

You knew that you should drop Nikolai’s hand, that protocol dictated that you walk a step or two behind him, but you would do no such thing, not when he needed you. And Nikolai did need you; he needed your resolve, your strength, your iron will, he needed his wife. His tears flowed freely now, and he no longer cared if anyone saw. His best friend was in a casket in front of him, he’d died a brutal death, a hero’s death, but brutal nontheless. Nikolai would cry if he felt like it.

People lined the street, gathered to pay their respects. Some crossed themselves as the procession passed, others bowed their heads, others saluted. Nikolai forced himself to keep his eyes forward, fixed on the back of Dominik’s mother’s head. You kept your grip on his hand, squeezing every so often, letting him know you were there. When you arrived at the chapel, you took your husband’s arm, kissing his cheek.

“You’re doing wonderfully, my love,” you said, and Nikolai nodded, clearing his throat. “If you don’t want to speak, I’m sure tha–” “No,” he said, voice rough. “I want to, I need to. For Dominik.” “Alright.” The casket was brought into the chapel and the guests followed: members of Dominik’s unit, the Grisha Triumvirate, the Generals of the First Army. It was a small service, at his mother’s request. Nikolai would give his late friend every honor, every piece of pageantry he could, but his family held the final say.

The pastor began the service, praying to the Saints to see their fallen soldier safely home, blessing Dominik’s family, praying for their peace, before calling on Nikolai. “And now, His Most Royal Majesty, King Nikolai, will deliver the eulogy.” You squeezed your husband’s hand once more as he stood, taking his place behind the pulpit. He despised the use of his title, he felt like the farthest thing from a King today–he was a man mourning his best friend.

Nikolai cleared his throat, resting his hands atop the lectern. “Dominik Vertov was a brave and valiant soldier,” he said, his voice trembling. “He was a just and fair man, and a kind and loyal friend. I first met Dominik when we were nine years old. I was a tyrant to my tutors, as difficult as that is to imagine–” the assembled guests chuckled, and Nikolai continued. “And Dominik was brought in in an attempt to rein me in.

“Suffice to say, it worked. From that moment on, Dominik and I were as thick as thieves. He was at my side when I took my first bullet, he had to drag me to the Healer’s tent, as a matter of fact. But the second he knew I was in good hands, he was back on that field, fighting. That was Dominik, always fighting for what was right, for what he believed in. To the very end, he fought, and for that, I will be forever grateful.

“Which is why, for his service to the Crown, to his King and Country, I posthumously award Dominik Vertov the Eagle’s Medal, the highest honor that can be bestowed upon a civilian. Taisiya, I know this can in no way make up for the loss of your son, but your family will also receive 20,000 valyuta each month to ensure you are provided for.” Taisiya, Dominik’s mother, dissolved into sobs, thanking Nikolai with every breath.

Your husband’s composure was slipping, and when he stepped from behind the pulpit to present Taisiya with the medal, he broke. For several moments, Nikolai knelt before Dominik’s family, clasping their hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. You rose from your seat and moved to him, resting your hand on his shoulder. Nikolai bent his head, his shoulders shaking, and he reached up to cover your hand with his own. After a moment, he rose, bowing his head to Taisiya and her sons, and followed you back to your seats.

When the service ended, a coach took you and your husband to the cemetery, where Dominik was laid to rest. Nikolai held tightly to your hand, his head on your shoulder, as his friend was lowered into the ground, as Taisiya wailed over his grave. He approached when the cemetery was empty, save for your guards, laying a rose on the freshly tilled soil. “Thank you for saving my ass, Dominik,” he said, a tearful smile on his face. “I love you, brother.”

On the ride back to the Palace, Nikolai laid with his head in your lap, hands fisted in your skirts. You carded a hand through his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp. “I love you,” you said, resting your opposite hand on your husband’s back. “I love you, my Nikolai. I’m here.” He shattered then, sobbing openly, not holding back. You only cooed softly, running your hand up and down his back, assuring him that you were there.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone reader insert

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candied-boys · 6 months

Text

Another - Rio x F! Reader Part 4

When Emma chooses another, Rio has to go home without her... But there's more awaiting him than just forgotten memories...

Themes: hurt and healing, facing the past, learning to love again, aka angst with a happy ending!

Notes: angst, Rio route spoilers, eventual smut, written from Rio's POV

Part 3

While the moonlight dances with the waves on your ceiling, your mind swirls with a tide of emotion. As the remorse ebbs the fear rises; will the rest of your life together flow on thus?

Your time — consumed with royal duties until you become king or, worse, never end as you slave away under one of your brothers for the people of your country?

Your marriage — loveless as you drift along until you no longer speak, so distant that you end up treating strangers with more courtesy than one another?

Your child — growing up out of sight, knowing little more of you than stories and paintings, until she is grown and gone, sacrificed into her own loveless marriage for the sake of politics?

The mere idea of a man as callous as your past self inflicting the same pain on your daughter as you have caused your wife horrifies you. Like a ship tossed in a storm you're hit with the violent realization that you are the only one capable of altering the course of this relationship.

Queasy and shaking, you stumble out of bed to the balcony, praying that the calm sea will quell your revulsion. One after another the waves roll in, lapping gently against the shoreline, until they have brought with them the rising tide of change.

Even if you never love your wife to the capacity you know your heart is capable of, you must try... If not for her, for yourself, for the man you have worked so hard to become.

At daybreak you inform your valet that you will no longer participate in any business or public affairs before breakfast and immediately head to the kitchen. You are reluctantly admitted after frightening the scullery maids half to death just by appearing in the servants’ quarters and having a territorial argument with the head cook in which you were forced to pull rank.

Much to the astonishment of the staff, you leave pushing a trolley of assorted dishes and pastries a few short hours later with plenty remaining for the servants to enjoy themselves.

While you busy yourself setting out all that has been whipped up, you wait nervously for the footman to bring back an answer.

Perhaps she's not up yet.

Perhaps she's busy tending to mother.

Perhaps she's not feeling well.

Perhaps… she's not interested…

“She will be here as soon as she can make herself presentable, Your Highness,” your valet relays with friendly reassurance, giving you permission to breathe for the first time since last night.

When you catch a glimpse of her blurred figure through the tall glass doors to the solarium you abandon the lilies that fill the room with their lush fragrance and move quickly to greet her. Peeking through the door as your valet opens it you see she looks very different.

Like you she's not yet dressed in her formal attire. Her dressing gown is silk, yet it's much simpler than what you've seen her wear up until now. Since you've arrived, you've only met her in the afternoons when more formal garb is required.

She's very charming with her hair unstyled and her clothes loose fitting…

Curtseying low and bowing her head she speaks, “You called, Your Highness?”

Offering her your arm you answer gently, “There's no need for such formalities. I'm your husband, not your lord. Please, just use my name.”

She relaxes visibly at the reply. At least until you lead her to the spread of dishes across the table.

“Is something the matter?” you ask as you feel her hand clench in your elbow.

“Are we to dine together?” she asks, blinking up at you in shock.

“If you'd allow me the honour, yes. Is something the matter?”

“Your Highness, have you forgotten court protocol? Men and women are always segregated at formal events such as banquets. We've only dined together at our wedding…”

“Ah… I seem to have forgotten even the simplest of things, haven't I? If I'm not mistaken though, there are no restrictions when there is no public present, correct?”

“Correct, Your Highness.”

“Please, Valerio will do.”

Even if I hate that name now…

“Yes, Prince Valerio.”

“Then would you grace me with your presence this morning, and if you may be so obliging, I'd like to take breakfast with you every day. Though I can never guarantee my availability in the evening, I can dedicate my mornings to my family.”

Stumbling through her words she almost whispers, “If… that is what you wish…”

“It is,” you assure her, smiling and pulling out her chair for her.

When you take the seat next to her, you answer her inquisitive gaze, “I made as many different dishes as I could because I couldn't remember your tastes… but I guess I never actually knew them…”

“Wait. You made this?” her voice is but a breath now.

“All of it.”

Turning in her chair to face you she asks, “Since when can you cook?” clearly taken aback.

With a helpless shrug you explain, “Since I had to live on my own in Rholodite. Now enough about me. What do you prefer, tea or coffee?”

Meekly she answers and you continue with, “Milk? Sugar?”

From the way she watches you with wide eyes when you move to pour her drink you only hope you won't end up scaring her away more than past you already has.

When that's settled you point to each platter and explain in detail, all the while inquiring about whether she prefers fruit or pastries or fruit pastries or neither, and so on until you fill her plate.

“What brought all this on, Valerio? You've been home nearly a month, but this still feels so abrupt…” she asks softly, the shock replaced with concern in her eyes.

“I don't want to return to my old self. I don't want our relationship to continue the way it did before…”

She studies you warily a moment before mumbling, “It's quite a change…”

Turning in your seat, you lay one arm over the back of her chair and tell her earnestly, “If not now, then when will I have the opportunity to be closer to you?”

“You want… that?”

“Yes. Very much. At least, I want to try…”

“Why the sudden interest after so many years… when you're still in love with another woman…?”

The pain in her eyes is as clear as the waters that ebb and flow at the castle’s shore. You hope sincerity is just as bright in yours.

“How will I ever let her go if I never give myself the chance? I won't be so cruel as to make empty declarations of passion, but as your husband I want to at least care for you. If you'll allow me, that is.”

Taking her smaller hand in yours you bring her fingers to your lips in a silent promise of devotion.

Part 5

🧡🫣🧡Tag list: @drachonia @outtayourmouth @maries-gallery @lamiefromage @tele86 @omkookie @queengiuliettafirstlady @altairring

#ikemen prince #ikepri #rio ortiz #ikemen prince rio #ikemen prince rio ortiz #ikemen rio #ikepri rio #ikepri fanfic #ikepri x reader

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the-king-and-the-druidess · 5 months

Text

False Maid x Prince AU

King Gorlois of Cornwallis has betrothed his daughter Princess Morgana to the son of his friend, King Uther of Camelot, since they were infants. When their children come of age it is time to bind their kingdoms in the long-awaited union. Her father sends Morgana to Camelot to see her betrothed.

Even a rebellious soul like Princess Morgana can't help it. But she decides to play a little trick. Morgana disguises herself as her maid Gwen Smith and dresses Gwen herself up as the Princess. While covertly watching Prince Arthur, Morgana wants to find out what kind of man the illustrious heir to Camelot really is without a facade of etiquette and protocol.

They arrive at the White Castle and Morgana finds Arthur charming. The rumours were not false, he is noble and brave and handsome. But her shenanigans go too far when the Prince doesn't even look at the false princess Gwen but falls in love with her "maid" Morgana. She too has fallen in love with him during their secret walks in the woods but she has no idea how to reveal the secret truth to him. She hadn't foreseen falling in love with Arthur when she planned this little trial.

Knowing that King Uther will never allow him to marry a maidservant, Arthur suggests Morgana to run away to the druids in the woods and live freely there, and that is when she has to confess her affections to him and tell who she really is...

#arthur x morgana #a work of mine again

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aurathian · 1 year

Text

leather -- ao3

for @zelinktines23 -- prompt leather

She went to bed that night cold. Silk was always chilly.

She was born in the lap of luxury. From birth, Zelda knew glittering gems, poofy, expensive dresses, the finest foods and the softest fabrics. She spent her days with the most exclusive tutors and among the perfectly manicured flowers of the courtyards. In the morning, she woke up long after the sun, and then her maids would gently, relaxingly prepare her for the day. In the afternoons, she’d have a large lunch, attend lessons, and read her books in the grand library. By the evening, after feasting on whatever gourmet cuisine was served that night, she was in a silk nightgown, crawling under her silk covers and resting atop her silk pillow. Princess Zelda had not known hardship until she met him.

She was eight when she met Link, son of the leather craftsman who was one of the sole suppliers of leather goods to the Royal Army. Her father, the King, was close friends with him, and Zelda always saw him requesting a new bag or riding gear for her mother or herself.

She liked Link. When he would visit on delivery days, she’d invite him to play in the garden. When he was over, they played like she never had before. When she played in the courtyards with the children of her mother’s friends, they had teatime or played with dolls or talked about boys and their cooties. When Link was over, it got dirty.

He launched balls made of various substances–mud, moss, clumpy dirt, sometimes snow–at her, usually dirtying her dress but oh how she did not care, because for once she really felt like they were playing, not just making polite conversation over hand-me-down, antique dolls because they had to. She launched mud balls and snowballs and dirt balls right back at him.

By the end of it, she would get a scolding from her mother, but she didn’t really mind; the reprimands were worth it.

Which is why that night she had invited him to sit on her bed next to her.

After he left, laying in her smooth, cool sheets, she wished she could smell leather again. That earthy, slightly sweet scent that seemed to follow her knight everywhere he went. Sure, some of that aroma lingered on the silk of her bed, but it was different. It was so much more pleasant when he was really there and she could feel his skin under her fingertips and his hand in her hair…

Maybe she had gone too far. Maybe she had pushed him by begging him to place his hand on her barren shoulder (scandalous!) or to look her in the eyes. For a pair as inseparable as they were, both by duty and feelings, they barely even made eye contact.

Zelda hated the protocol, and she hated how obedient Link was. Just once, she wanted to unravel him. Just once, she wanted him to put his hand on her body because he chose to. Just once.

She went to bed that night cold. Silk was always chilly.

And that next morning she rose at her usual time and did her usual things with her usual personal knight, who acted as he usually did: silent and unfazed, like nothing happened. It was a usual day.

Even though Link was acting like normal, she wanted to know if he was thinking like normal, too. She certainly wasn’t. Anytime she addressed him, her eyes wandered down to his lips. He kept his trained on whatever was behind her, be it a wall or a window. Sometimes, he knelt on the floor. Was it because he didn’t want to talk to her? Did he hate her now? He was supposed to kneel when he was addressed by anybody of royal stature, but they had spent so many years together that this was… unusual.

“What are you doing?” she asked him at one point, her tone biting and sharp. He winced.

“Kneeling, princess, as I am meant to,” he mumbled. Link couldn’t see it, facing his leather boots on the ground, but tears pricked the eyes of the princess he was sworn to protect.

“Fine,” she hissed, turning and walking away. Obediently, he stood and followed.

They turned a corner where a maid scuttled up to them and told the princess that a new leather delivery was here, and that her father requested she receive it since he was unavailable. Of course, Zelda obliged, and the princess and her knight made their way to the courtyard which was riddled with trainees, some in pairs and others sparring with dummies. At the entrance was Link’s father with a wagon of boxes.

Zelda knew how the deliveries worked. She often accompanied her father to receive them. She also knew that most of these boxes weren’t for the army, but for the nobility who visited the castle often enough that they simply had their commissions delivered there instead. Bags, clothes, sometimes furniture.

“Hello, your highness,” Link’s father greeted warmly. “And my son.” To his son, he nodded, and wrapped him in a hug. “It’s a big delivery this week.”

He began unloading the boxes while Zelda signed off on some paperwork. Link and some other soldiers nearby helped haul the boxes off the wagon and to the side. By the end, there was only one small box left, which Link’s father picked up and handed to Zelda.

“For you, princess,” he said.

“Oh, but I didn’t–”

“No, no, I’m sure you did.”

Link’s father took his wagon and rushed away, leaving a befuddled princess with a tiny box. When she glanced at Link with a brow arched in confusion, he only shrugged and looked past her.

She continued with more of her usual duties and then at nighttime, as usual, her personal knight hung about her room while she brushed her hair. Except they were both silent and it almost turned her red–not with embarrassment.

“Link,” she said, his name slicing the still air, “I’m sorry.”

Her anger was at herself.

“What?”

“We can’t act like nothing happened,” she sighed, setting the brush down. “I’m sorry. Last night– I– I shouldn’t have done that. It was a mistake.”

Link didn’t say anything, only hung his head and twiddled with his thumbs–so unusual of him–and kept quiet.

“I feel bad. I know you don’t feel that way, and it was a mistake for me to… to even think of that.”

“Zelda,” he mumbled, “you never opened the box my father gave you.”

“Huh?”

“Just open it.”

It sat on her nightstand, the cords holding it shut still intact. She’d wondered about its contents all day but never had a moment to open it. Tentatively, Zelda reached over and grasped it, pulled it back to her, and carefully unwound the cords. She pried it open and fished around inside, moving aside the tissue stuffed in to ensure whatever was inside didn’t break.

It was a jewelry box. A dark, simple jewelry box made of leather.

“This must be someone else’s order,” she mused, examining the box.

“Open it.”

Zelda rolled her eyes at him with a smile, muttering something about boxes in boxes, and unlatched it.

Inside was a silver necklace with a small, delicate diamond pendant, nestled within the velvet folds of the box. Gently, Zelda lifted it out of the box, hanging it off her fingers so the pendant spun ever so slowly, just enough for her to admire the details.

“I never ordered this,” she said again. “And your father doesn’t make necklaces, so–”

His lips were on hers.

Wait, what?

When did he even approach? He’d been on the other side of the room leaning against a dresser, watching from afar as she opened the leather jewelry box and took out the diamond necklace. He hadn’t moved an inch, and she knew that because she had watched him out of the corner of her eye the whole time. So when did he get here?

It wasn’t like it mattered anyway, she thought, melting into him. He smelled of leather, sweet and earthy, and his textured skin against hers felt right, warm, like everything she had ever dreamed of.

When he pulled away, she found herself moving toward him, lonely at the loss. They gazed at each other for a quiet, soft moment.

“Was that a bad idea?” he asked, all sense of decorum and–thank the Goddesses, Zelda thought–protocol flying out the window.

“No,” she hummed, reaching her hands up into his hair to pull him in for another kiss as his hands, soft as leather, found their home on her silken skin.

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