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ghost-1-y · 5 months

Text

Sabotage

Trickster!Sanemi x Fem!Tricked Princess!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, dubcon(?), unprotected sex, penetrative sex (f! receiving), oral sex (m! and f! receiving), fingering, handjob, Sanemi can clone himself, double penetration (therefore anal), HEAVY degradation, brat tamer!Sanemi x bratty!reader, Sanemi has an olfactophilia kink, masturbation (Sanemi), spanking as punishment, overstimulation as punishment, lots of dumbification, mentions of breeding/pregnancy, multiple creamp!es, Sanemi is mean in this, Sanemi points a knife to reader’s throat at some point (he doesn’t draw blood), mentions of food, mentions of dead animals, reader is a spoiled, bratty princess, brief mentions of homewrecking (not acted upon), mentions of a future arranged marriage, Sanemi plays “tricks” on reader, lmk if I missed anything!!

Word Count: ~15k

A/N: apologies for this taking literally forever for me to post, I went through a period of burnout and have been in classes these past two months. Also, apologies for this being so long, the plot got ahead of me and it ended up becoming my largest fic to date, but I do promise smut at the end (as you can probably tell by the content warnings lmao). Also please be nice I’m sorry if this fic is actually awful lol :')

Divider Credit: @/cafekitsune

The sound of crystal heels against marbled stone were followed by head turns of maids and servants as you walked through the long corridor, bowing or curtseying as you passed, soft murmurs of your highness and my princess uttered in haste before returning to their duties.

Everything was as it should be: polished gold-framed paintings and chandeliers lit with gentle flames above, ornate silver door handles grasped by armored knights as entrances opened for you time and time again, strolling up rounded stairways and into the throne room – where your father, King Ubayashiki, and his wife, Lady Amane, sat.

The sun was orange through the glass panes that decorated the palace walls. Rainbows scattered across the palace floor, and fractals of light beamed at varying angles which made the golden thrones glimmer with radiance.

“My dear child,” your father smiled gently upon you, “I am glad to see you in good health.”

He was flanked by a line of his advisors on his left side, most of them old and feeble, except for one: a quiet ravenette with eyes which beheld endless pools of deep blue – Tomioka, you believed his name was.

Tomioka was quite handsome, yet always expressed disinterest in the matters discussed at these sorts of meetings – today, he decided to forgo usual etiquette by holding his head up by one of his fists, eyes taking in the grandeur of the throne room rather than being focused on you – as the rest of the advisors were.

“Father,” you curtseyed – forcing your eyes to pry away from the young advisor, “I reciprocate your sentiment. I am glad to see you well.”

He chuckled, “Your words are much appreciated, but I’m afraid they are not true. I have come down with sickness, and our lovely doctor here–” he waved towards his left, referring to a rather beautiful woman with dark hair and violet eyes who sat further away from the line of advisors, “–Lady Kocho, is doing her absolute best to treat me, but, it has made me realize a few things, namely how very brief our lives are on this earth, and–”

“Father, with all due respect, what have you summoned me for?” you asked, impatience seeping into your tone.

The king sighed, “I need you to be married, my dear child.”

“What?” you exclaimed, “no– I don’t want to. You cannot and will not force me to do such a thing.”

Your father sighed, “that is why, my dear, that we are going to be holding a masquerade ball on the next full moon – which, I believe, is five days from now. We have also decided that, due to time and the uncertainty of my sickness, you will be wed on the very next day.”

“What the hell is a ball going to do? Do you believe I’ll just suddenly meet the love of my life while dancing with a masked stranger?”

“That is not the objective, my dear, I wish for you to get to know the princes from nearby nations, and I believe a masquerade ball is perfect to learn personalities without any bias. Whomever you get along with most, as well as whoever I believe will be most fit as a king, will be the one whom you marry.”

“Well, I wish you luck in making me attend, because I refuse to entertain this idea you’ve thought up. You haven’t even given me a reason as to why I should plan to be married.”

There was tension amongst the members of the advisory council, with even Tomioka paying closer attention to your rather loud grievances.

You could almost feel his azure eyes boring into your soul.

“My dear child, even though I am your father, you must remember that I am also your King, and you will do well to remember that,” he said quietly.

“So, what? Are you going to have me thrown into the dungeons if I don’t comply?” You crossed your arms as you glared down at him. “You can’t possibly be serious–”

“That is not what I wish for, my child, but you must be responsible to your kingdom and do what I ask of you. One day, I will no longer be here, and you will need to step up and take the throne once that happens. This is the first step towards that end.”

“I don’t care about being responsible to the kingdom! They must bow to me anyway, the reason for their subservience is none of my concern.”

If you weren’t consumed by your fit of rage, you might have noticed that to your right, for a fraction of a second, the hue of the handsome ravenette’s eyes turned from a deep blue to a stormy purple.

“My child, you must learn that people do not bow blindly to the throne. They bow out of respect for a leader that makes decisions which keep them in mind.”

“They should respect me regardless. I’m their princess. That should be enough for them.”

You did not wait for your father to continue his lecture, as you stormed out of the throne room and marched back toward your chambers.

—

Upon entering your bedroom, a fireplace had already been lit – its crackling flames providing just enough heat for one’s slumber during a mid-winter night.

You sat down on the edge of your rather large bed – a mattress as soft as clouds, and sheets of the finest silk which was woven with royalty in mind. You kicked off your heels, scattering them halfway across your cozy living space – not caring to put them away properly – the help was there for such chores, anyway.

Your lady-in-waiting – you believed her name was Kanroji – knocked upon the carefully carved wooden doors of your chambers, before entering upon your command. She gave you a soft smile and curtseyed before you.

“It’s a wonderful evening, my princess, I hope today treated you well,” she greeted, and you gave out a loud sigh before flopping onto the mattress, a pout visible on your face as Kanroji picked up your discarded heels from the floor and placed them in their proper spot.

“Kanroji–” you elongated the last vowel of her name, “today was awful. Can you believe my dad possessed the gall to summon me today? And for what– to discuss marriage?” you groaned, “If I could, I would’ve wiped that everlasting smile off of his face for making me go through all of this!”

“My princess, that is no way to speak about your father, much less your king,” Kanroji lightly scolded you, causing you to roll your eyes. “I’m sure his reasons are sound. I understand if you find the idea rather, well, uprooting I should say, but–”

“–But nothing!” you exclaimed, exasperation evident in your tone. “I don’t want to be responsible for the people, especially if it’s at the expense of my own losses!”

“Princess, with all due respect, they are your people,” Kanroji reminded you, “being a princess doesn’t exempt you from responsibilities.”

Rolling your eyes once more, you grumbled out a “whatever,” and sat up on your bed to face your lady-in-waiting.

“I’m sure that it was at least nice to speak with your father, no? Considering how busy he is and all?” Kanroji asked with a smile.

“Not really,” you groaned, “but I did get to see that one cute advisor he has, so I guess it wasn’t all bad.”

“Are you referring to Lord Tomioka, my princess?”

“Who else? The rest of them are old as shit– you think I’d fall for Urokodaki? Or – god forbid – Kuwajima?”

“A princess must not use such foul language, your highness,” Kanroji chided, “although I must say that I never expected you to fall for those…older men.”

You sighed in annoyance, “technically, I can do whatever I want, Lady Kanroji.”

“Unfortunately, Lord Tomioka is already married to the royal doctor, Lady Kocho,” Kanroji ignored the tone of your voice, “perhaps it would be wise to listen to King Ubayashiki’s words and look for a potential suitor at the next royal ball?”

“I doubt he has that much love for her,” you muttered, “perhaps I could pull Lord Tomioka aside during the festivities and–”

“Your highness, with all due respect, you will do no such thing,” Kanroji admonished you.

“But I’m the princess, Lady Kanroji, surely he’d see that as an opportunity for upward mobility, no?”

Kanroji sighed, deciding not to push the topic further. She motioned for you to stand up so she could undress you. You turned your back to her as she started untying the strands of your outer bodice, before removing it and working on the following layers to place them into a soiled linen basket.

“My princess will wash her face before heading to bed, we don’t want any bad air to ruin your perfect skin,” Kanroji urged as she helped you into your night slip.

“You don’t need to treat me like I’m five, Lady Kanroji. I know how to take care of myself.”

Kanroji schooled her expression from that of a tight-lipped smile to one with gentle radiance.

“Of course, your highness.”

You headed to your bathroom, but, rather than washing your face by yourself, you merely sat down on a cushioned chair beside the door. Kanroji followed, obtaining a washcloth made of the softest cotton and dipping it in water which she had warmed prior to your arrival. She dabbed at your face, removing any excess dirt or sweat which built up throughout the day, before lathering some soap into the cloth and gently applying it to your face, before rinsing it away with more water.

After she patted your face dry with another towel, she handed you your toothbrush and paste, and, after you had finished, provided you with water and a spit cup so you could rinse out your mouth.

“My princess seems to be all ready for bed now, let’s get you cozied up for the night.”

She led you back to your bedroom, and you buried yourself in warm blankets, choosing not to respond as she blew out one final candle and bid you a good night.

—

The following day, upon your wake, the birds outside of your window were surprisingly quiet. You’d quite often awake to the chirps of songbirds and hoots of mourning doves, which would rise you out of your restful sleep.

You stood up from your bed, and walked over to your wardrobe, excited to see if the maids had fully cycled your favorite dress through the laundry – one which had been inspired by your own confidence, merely amplifying everything desirable about your figure. It exemplified your wealth, your status; it brought you up into the clouds of materialism as others looked up at you in pure awe.

However, upon opening your wardrobe, you were shocked to find yourself looking at the wooden backing of the closet rather than your endless amounts of clothing that usually hung from the racks – something that you had not laid eyes upon ever since you first received the piece of furniture.

“Kanroji!” you yelled for your assistant, who, despite being summoned, still had the courtesy to knock upon your door before entering.

“Is something wrong, my princess?” she asked delicately as always, yet her honeyed lips did nothing to calm you down.

“You did this, didn’t you?” you accused her as you waved your hands haphazardly towards the empty wardrobe, “why do I not have any clothing to wear?”

Kanroji looked at you in pure confusion, before walking over and gazing upon what you were talking about. She sighed, “I didn’t do this, your highness, perhaps one of the maids went to wash all of your clothing and forgot to return it?”

“Why would they think to wash clothing which hasn’t been worn!?” you argued, “what should I do, then, if I don’t have anything to wear?”

Kanroji pondered for a moment, before seemingly coming to a solution.

“Well, my princess, if you would be so kind to take into consideration this idea I have, I may have a solution–”

“Just spit it out!”

Kanroji sighed, trying not to be taken aback by your rude behavior, “I believe we have extra clothing which is usually reserved for the royal staff. I could go fetch one for you if–”

“So I am to wear a servant’s clothes? To dress myself as a peasant?”

“No, my princess, the royal staff uniforms are hardly clothing meant for a commoner, they are still made of fine quality fabric and are sewn by the best seamstresses in the kingdom.”

You rolled your eyes, “fine, but only because there’s no other choice. Bring me the peasants’ clothing.”

Kanroji turned on her heel and left your room to fetch the uniform, leaving you to walk around your room in silence. After pacing around for a few minutes, you went up to your window, where a songbird had made its nest and laid its eggs.

You had asked time and time again for the staff to remove the nest, as it was partially obstructing the view of your garden, yet they hadn’t gotten around to it, it seemed.

However, today, the nest was completely empty – not a bird nor egg in sight.

“Princess, I’ve gathered a uniform set in your size,” Kanroji said behind you, prompting you to turn your head.

“Give it here.”

She handed you the folded clothing, and you held it out in front of you, inspecting it with expressive disgust.

“How am I supposed to put this on? It’s too frilly and complicated.”

“Allow me, your highness,” Kanroji muttered, before taking the uniform and having you step into it, buttoning it up and smoothing out the skirt.

“You look beautiful as always, my princess,” she smiled at you.

“I’d hardly say that,” you grumbled, “take me to my gardens, won’t you? I need some fresh air after this whole–” you waved your hands trying to find the right word, “–mess.”

Kanroji nodded, “of course, your highness.”

She led you through the winding corridors of the castle, and, as much as you preferred being the one leading, today you were almost hiding yourself behind your assistant – not wishing for anyone to look down upon you for the clothing you wore.

Yet, after a while, you realized that no one spared a second glance toward you. Not a single maid, nor servant, bothered to bow or greet you as you walked by. Easily offended by their lack of etiquette, you caught up with your lady-in-waiting, Kanroji, and whispered harshly into her ear.

“Why are they not greeting me? Usually they bow upon seeing or hearing me walk by. I have never seen such insubordination in my entire life–”

“My princess, it may be due to your clothing. You are wearing quite an unusual outfit for a royal today, and they are quite busy with setting up the decorations and such for the ball. I plead with you to be patient with them, your highness.”

You huffed, but remained silent after hearing her reasoning, your shoulders hunched in annoyance as Kanroji led you outside.

Your garden was one of the more peaceful areas of the palace. It was strategically placed so that you could view it from your bedroom window, a hectare of greenery reserved just for yourself. It caught the rays of sun through the early morning to late evening, with a rather beautiful fountain built in the very center of it made of marble, sculpted with three tiers that had water flow down into a rounded reservoir. The reservoir itself had sculptures sitting on the edges of the fountain – with one of the notable figures being that of Icarus.

Along the border of the garden, white and purple hydrangeas bloomed in the late morning sun, which gave way to various other floral species. It was all proper and organized, each plant having a designated area for it to flourish in. Walking further into the garden, you held out your hand to trace your fingers along the petals of buttercups, a flower which had always been one of your favorites – its delicate appearance attracting you to it.

You approached a small gazebo that found its place on the edge of the garden, a shaded area for you to use should you grow tired. Taking a seat, you exhaled slowly, recollecting yourself from the earlier mishap that was out of your control, almost entering a sort of meditative state. Your thoughts, however, wandered, and eventually led you to your fathers words of having you become married.

“Lady Kanroji?” you asked, and she smiled kindly at you – just as she always did. It was a rather comforting sight, to have someone so close that didn’t seem bothered by anything in the entire world.

“Yes, my princess?”

“Do you ever feel like…your life is out of your hands? Like you’re starting to lose control?” you asked, voice slightly uneasy as you turned your head away from her, deciding to rather admire flowers which neighbored the bench you sat on.

A bumblebee flew past you, its fat little body buzzing between flowers, working hard to pollinate each one.

“Well, yes, everyone does– but, what is making you feel this way, your highness?”

“I mean, look at this bee here– it probably thinks about nothing but how it needs to pollinate flowers and collect nectar for its hive – wherever that may be, right?”

“Of course, princess,”

The bee landed on a lone calendula, burying itself in pollen, before taking a quick moment to rest before flying off to another part of the garden.

“I wish my life was more like this bee. I wouldn’t have to worry about anything except the task in front of me.”

“Princess, is this about the clothes in your wardrobe being missing this morning?” Kanroji inquired.

You shook your head, “no, I’ve accepted that as a small mishap. I’m more worried about how my freedom might be taken away from me, with being married soon and all, especially to someone that I—”

“—that you know nothing about?” Kanroji finished for you.

You nodded, before eyeing a blooming foxglove plant, approaching it and plucking a single flower from its stem, twirling it in your hand as you admired its range of colors.

“I just wish that, at least, my last few days of freedom before this ball will be alright.”

Kanroji tentatively, ever so diligently following your every step, took your hand in hers, “I am wishing only the best for you, my princess. I promise that your husband will be as kind and as loving as can be.”

You smiled at her, still holding the foxglove in your hands, “thank you, Lady Kanroji.”

“–and if he’s not, then I promise to make his life a living hell,” she grinned, causing a hearty laugh to emerge from your chest.

“That hopefully won’t be necessary, but I thank you nonetheless.”

You looked down towards the ground, noticing that an invasive species of yellow tansy has taken root in the soil all throughout the garden.

Groaning, you looked up towards Kanroji once more, “do we not have a gardener to get rid of these weeds?” you asked exasperatedly, and she chuckled.

“Your highness, with all due respect, didn’t you fire them last week because they pruned your rose bush in a way that wasn’t to your liking?”

Sighing, you responded, “you’re right, we’ll need a new one soon, perhaps one of the servants would care for a promotion?”

“We’ll see about that, my princess. As for now, though, how about we get you washed up from being outside, and then after I’m sure we can have the royal chef make you one of your favorite meals for dinner later? As a little treat for all the anguish from today, perhaps?”

You smiled, “that sounds wonderful.”

—

You sat in the great hall of the castle, sampling hors d'oeuvres and sipping on champagne, chatting idly with your assistant at your own private table, watching waiters and waitresses move about through all the different tables, serving appetizers and samples of foods to both guests and royals alike.

Music played in the background from an entourage of pianists and violinists, who were playing some piece from Beethoven that you couldn’t recall the name of.

Feeling refreshed, you called over the waiter for yet another glass of champagne, motioning him to fill up Kanroji’s glass as well.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly–” Kanroji protested, to which you waved your hand in front of her.

“C’mon,” you grinned, “you work so hard. Just one glass? Please?”

She huffed in feigned annoyance, but relented as she let the waiter fill up her glass with the bubbly drink.

“You seem much happier now that the maids found one of your spare dresses in the dried laundry, don’t you?” Kanroji grinned.

You nodded, “I feel more beautiful this way. I really disliked that maid uniform. I felt so…inferior.”

“Clothing does not make a princess, you know,” she reminded you simply as you took another bite of food, and Kanroji grimaced as you opened your filled mouth to talk.

“I know. ‘M a princess regardless o’ wha’ ‘m wearin’,” you mumbled before swallowing, “you don’t need to remind me.”

Kanroji sighed as you so easily missed the point she was trying to make, watching as you waved for the waiter to come by, ready to order your meal.

“What should I have prepared for you this flashy evening, your highness?” he asked.

The man before you was tall and muscular, with white hair that fell down his shoulders and crimson eyes that reminded you of rubies. He took out a notepad to write down your orders when you realized his left hand proudly displayed three golden bands which were embedded with diamonds, each one on a separate finger.

You could hardly believe he was just a mere waiter for the castle.

With his looks, you believed he could be doing much better.

“Would it be so bad if I said ‘you’?” you smiled lazily at him, causing him to chuckle at your statement.

“Unfortunately, my princess, I am a happily married man,” he said, pointing to the three rings, “although I wouldn’t be opposed to adding a fourth wife to the family.”

Your nose crinkled in disgust – not because he had multiple wives, no – but because you disliked the idea of having to share him with others.

What belonged to the princess should belong to her alone.

“I’ll pass,” you forced out, “I would, however, like to request the foie gras for my meal tonight, if you could you put that in for me — and, perhaps, a side of toasted baguette with caviar spread will do.”

“Ah, my princess, as much as we are happy to make anything you desire, I must regretfully inform you that we do not have any foie gras for tonight.”

Your blood pressure started to rise. Putting on a fake smile, which was more akin to that of a grimace, you asked, “and what may be the reason for the kitchen being unprepared to take my order?”

“Your highness, I promise that it is not the kitchen’s fault. A strange occurrence, and a most un-flashy one, really – our local farmers have reported that every single one of their animals have escaped, and what’s more- they can’t be found anywhere within the borders of the kingdom.”

You thought back to the morning, when you made note of the usual songbirds outside of your window being absent.

“Do you not have any duck meat preserved?” you asked.

“No, your highness. We hunt the very same day that we prepare the meals so that they’re fresh. Which is why–”

“Which is why you’re supposedly unable to adhere to my request. I heard you the first time. No need to repeat yourself,” you huffed. “If you don’t have any meat, then what do you have?”

Just as the waiter was about to open his mouth, you held up your hand to stop him, “Never mind. Just get me a salad. Now leave us,” you glared at him, disdain heavy in your tone.

“Of course, princess.”

You rolled your eyes as he sauntered away, and Kanroji stared at you with a slight frown on her face.

“What is it?” you asked, taking her hand and holding it.

Kanroji tensed, but allowed her hand to stay rested on yours.

“It’s nothing, I promise,” she started, “I hope that you can be more patient with them, though, they are doing their best to serve you.”

You sighed, “whatever.”

You looked down at her hand, at which point a frown crossed your face.

“Lady Kanroji, since when did you have such an awful scar?”

Looking back up at her, she seemed slightly alarmed, taking her hand away from yours.

“What are you talking about, princess?” She looked down at her own hand, inspecting it as though she didn’t realize she had such a blemish.

“That scar– I don’t know why I only just noticed it, but–” you paused as she showed you her hand once more.

Her hand was flawless.

“You may have had too much to drink, princess, should I escort you back to your room?”

You looked at your assistant in utter confusion, “but–”

“I highly doubt it was anything more than a trick of the light,” she smiled reassuringly. “Let’s get you to your chambers now, alright princess?”

—

You awoke to the pounding of fists against your door, jolting up from your bed.

“Princess! Please open the door!” one of the royal guards shouted from outside your chambers.

Groggily, you walked up and opened it, to find the guard in what seemed to be a slightly confused panic.

“What’s going on?”

“You’ll have to come down to the royal gardens with me, princess, there’s something that was…er– left for you.”

In a huff, you followed his instructions, the guard following closely behind you, winding through corridors and staircases until you reached the outside, where a small crowd consisting mostly of royal staff could be seen huddling around something, exchanging whispers and gasps that were unintelligible.

“What in the hell did you raise me out of my bed for that needed my immediate attention?” you yelled back at the guard, who was only a few paces behind you, “forcing me to go outside while looking this indecent better have a good explanation.”

You pushed your way through the crowd, only to stop short as you gazed at what was before you: a dead cow, one that seemed to be entirely gutted, with its entrails scattered about around its body.

The same guard walked up to you, tapping you on the shoulder before handing you a scroll, “this was laid beside the mauled animal,” he explained.

You unraveled it, only to read something that made you feel rather faint.

Here’s that meat you missed so dearly last night, princess.

You could almost laugh, if it weren’t for how absolutely no one could’ve heard about this conversation besides Lady Kanroji and the waiter himself.

Perhaps he notified the chef and one of the kitchen staff got upset? But that wouldn’t explain how they got the cow in the first place if all the animals are all–

“Princess?”

You looked up at the guard, who’s purple eyes seemed to be glimmering in the light of the morning sun.

“What is it?”

The guard frowned – at what, you couldn’t possibly tell – before he shook his head and walked back toward the castle.

Just as you were about to question him, Lady Kanroji came running out from the palace doors and stopped before you.

“Oh, my princess! I’m so glad you’re alright!” she wailed, seemingly disturbed by the events of this morning.

“I’m fine, but I’ll need each and every one of the kitchen staff that was working last night to be interrogated.”

Kanroji seemed confused, but nodded, deciding not to question your reasoning.

“In the meantime, your highness, would you like to visit your garden again? I know that it tends to calm you down quite a bit and right now you seem quite…frazzled.”

—

“Lady Kanroji, how quickly do flowers usually grow?”

“Your highness, at this point, I have no idea.”

She looked just as confused as you were – gazing upon your garden, which looked entirely different from what it looked like yesterday. Rather than hydrangeas and the occasional foxglove bush blooming, the entire garden had been infested with snapdragons.

“I was here just yesterday, was I not?” you asked rhetorically, and Kanroji nodded in affirmation.

“Yes, you were, my princess.”

You sighed, “I don’t understand – all I wanted was a few peaceful days before I am forced into an arranged marriage. Am I not allowed something as simple as that?”

“Many are not afforded things that may seem simple to others, my princess, perhaps this is how the universe so ordained these few days to unfold.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better about my circumstances, though.”

“Perhaps not, but we can always do our best to make the most of what we are dealt, even if the hand we are given is not the best.”

You listened to her as you looked around the garden, seeing how endless the lines of snapdragon flowers seemed to be, and, in a moment of firm resolve, you lifted up the bottom of your slip before setting your feet bare into the soil.

“What are you doing, your highness? You will dirty your clothing if you–”

“I’m making the most of the hand I’ve been dealt, Lady Kanroji,” you explained, before beginning to weed out the unwanted snapdragon flowers from their roots.

Kanroji smiled, before following suit and helping you in your task, ridding the garden of unwanted plants to restore it to its former glory.

—

It felt like hours since you first arrived to your garden, your night slip entirely dirtied, and your hands caked with soil. The sun beat down on both of you, causing sweat to drip down your face as you smeared it away with your dirtied hands.

A crow flew down and landed in the garden next to you, poking its beak at the bundle of snapdragons that you’d picked out of the soil, you waved at it in order to shoo it away – but to no avail.

“I thought that there were no fauna left in the kingdom,” you mused, and Kanroji giggled softly.

“Apparently this little one didn’t quite catch the memo,” she smiled, causing you to chuckle.

However, another crow flew down a few minutes later, and then another – until there was nearly a flock of crows that surrounded each of you.

“Lady Kanroji–?” you asked, concern lacing your tone as you looked around, with what seemed to be every single crow staring directly at you, as though you were nothing but prey to them.

It started off with one crow – which flew toward you and started picking at your night slip with its beak. You tried shooing it off, but doing so only invited another crow, and another, and another to do the same.

“Stop! What– stop!” you screamed as the crows continued tearing at your slip, leaving holes and cuts all throughout the thin cloth. You knelt to the ground, curling yourself into a tight ball as the crows hovered closely above you.

Until finally, the torment ceased.

Standing up, you looked around to see them flying away, before looking back at your assistant who seemed absolutely horrified by what just occurred.

“Your highness–”

“Don’t. Say. A word,” you seethed, tears starting to brim your eyes before you rushed back to your chambers, Kanroji following closely behind you.

—

Sanemi’s POV

A yell of frustration could be heard from your chambers, causing a silent snicker to pass through his lips.

He couldn’t help that he loved messing with you: you were the perfect prey for someone like him. Someone in a place of authority who needed to be knocked down a few pegs; a bratty princess who wanted everything to go her way – regardless of if it hurt those around her or not.

Not only that, but the noises you made were music to his ears – how you’d groan and grumble and scream – all because of him.

He was the one who was causing you all this grief.

And he loved it.

Unfortunately, it seemed that missing clothes and cooking ingredients were just not enough to make you absolutely lose your sense of control.

“Kanroji!” you yelled from your chambers, causing his ears to perk up. You always had your poor assistant help you out, he realized, it was only ever a matter of time before her name could be heard from your lips.

It pissed him off, really, that assistant of yours – she would always be there to step in and help you, no matter how terrible your behavior was.

However, it seemed today that your assistant was nowhere to be found, and so he had the privilege of reveling in your annoyed grumbles for that much longer.

After what seemed to be about half of an hour, your chamber doors finally opened.

He decided that your expression must’ve been priceless, so he took the shape of a female guard and walked down towards your chamber doors.

However, he couldn’t stop his mouth from falling agape upon seeing you.

Your dress – which he intentionally shrunk down a size, caused your tits to spill out from the top of it. Not only that, but your skirt only went down to your mid-thigh, and he could only imagine what a sight it would be if you bent over to pick something up.

He was frozen – he hated you, hated authority. He despised how you thought that you were simply better than everyone else – that it was somehow your birthright to be above everyone else.

So, why was he awestruck by the sudden beauty that was before him?

You turned your head to him – or, the female guard that he was disguised as – and gave him a nasty glare.

“The hell are you looking at?” you asked.

If there were a higher power, Sanemi would’ve thanked them a hundred times over for the fact that his shapeshifting ability could hide the hardening bulge in his pants.

After a moment, he managed to find his voice – and thankfully he remembered to make it fit the character he was playing as.

“Apologies, princess, did you need help with anything?”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed before marching away from him, and he couldn’t help but smirk as your figure turned down another long corridor.

Out of all the people he’s fucked with, you were definitely his favorite.

—

“Shit, princess, got me so fuckin’ worked up over nothing, didn’t ya?” Sanemi muttered under his breath as he fisted his stiff cock, not even bothering to start slowly as he fucked his hand with each unrelenting stroke.

The precum seeped out from his tip, allowing his hand to glide even faster along his thick length; he was harsh with it, the muscles in his forearm nearly burning at the pace of his movements.

Sanemi snuck into your room after you left – having now memorized your daily schedule, he didn’t need to worry about you catching him in the act. It would be at least an hour before you returned to your chambers, giving him plenty of time to cum before then.

He laid upon your bed – the mattress softer than anything he ever had the luxury of experiencing before – as he stroked himself to the thought of ruining you.

He wondered if the plush of your skin would be even softer.

Gods, how he would love to trace his roughened hands along your delicate body, squeezing your tits, groping your ass.

You could stand to have a bit of punishment too, he thought before envisioning how he’d have you on your hands and knees, smacking your ass until it was red and sore.

Or maybe humiliation would be better?

He groaned as he thrust up into his hand as he thought of all the ways he could ruin your status, humiliating you in front of hundreds – no, thousands – of your subjects.

Maybe he could take it a step further than he usually would this time – oh, how he’d love to ruin you until you were nothing more than a needy slut for his cock.

“Fuck–” he grunted, before turning his head to the side, where he eyed a pair of your discarded panties in the corner of your room.

“Fuckin’ brat never learns to clean up after herself,” he muttered, climbing out of your bed to go pick them up.

Lucky me, he thought, bringing your panties up to his nose and inhaling deeply, his knees nearly buckling.

Somehow, the head of his cock turned an even angrier shade of red after breathing in your scent, with his length getting so stiff that it almost hurt.

“Fuck– princess,” he groaned, “smell so fuckin’ good,” he added, walking back to your bed before inhaling more of your musk, hips bucking involuntarily into his hand – his cock getting impossibly harder as he fucked himself to the thought of you.

“Gonna make me fuckin’ cum like this, you fuckin’ brat.”

His abdomen tensed as his seed shot out from his reddened tip, spilling it all over his hand and lower stomach. He hissed as he continued to stroke himself through his orgasm before pulling his hand back and letting it fall against the mattress, panting heavily.

“Are you sure you don’t have any spare clothes that fit, my princess?”

Sanemi’s eyes shot open, hearing your assistant’s voice from outside the door.

“Yes, I checked every single one and they’re all too tight! I’ve had difficulty breathing all morning because of this stupid outfit!”

You shouldn’t be back yet, he thought, but then again he did disrupt your morning for the third time this week – perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised.

He shot up from your bed, quickly stripping it as well as gathering any dirty clothing you had lying around before transforming himself into a maid.

The door opened, and Sanemi had to hold back a grin when he saw how frustrated you were, his cock starting to harden once more upon seeing your face contorted into a pout.

“Why are you here?” you asked him, before your assistant put a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Leave her be, my princess, she’s just doing her job.”

Sanemi nodded to her and took the linen that he had gathered out of your chambers, leaving you and your assistant alone for the time being.

By the time he was out of sight, he snapped his fingers – causing the linen to disappear completely.

It’s not like you’d care about missing some bedsheets for a while, right?

—

Y/N’s POV

You awoke the next day to the smell of smoke.

You weren’t able to sleep much anyway — namely due to being limited to a simple blanket as you laid on your bare mattress — all because the maid who took your sheets didn’t bother to communicate with anyone else that your bed would need to be made before you retired for the night.

After dipping in and out of sleep, tossing and turning in your freezing room, the sun had finally started to rise, and, although you usually never awoke before it was at least halfway up in the sky, today your sense of grogginess was replaced by complete alarm.

Was the castle burning?

You ran to the doors of your chamber, your already too-tight night slip nearly causing you to trip as you reached for its handle.

Cold.

You slowly opened the door, and the absence of flames relieved you.

Only thinking of yourself, you carefully made your way down staircases and through corridors – the smoke only becoming more intense the further down you went.

Perhaps a kitchen fire?

Yet, as you found your way to the castle entrance, you started to realize that the smoke had been coming from outside rather than in the castle.

Careful to not show your face through any windows – in order to protect yourself from being targeted by any potential enemies or rioters outside – you listened for voices and yelling to determine if the castle was under siege.

But, other than the distant crackling of flames, the night was silent.

Exhaling your fear, you gained enough courage to peek through one of the windows. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, you thought to go outside so you could locate the source of the smoke.

The castle door creaked open, and a plume of smoke entered through the doorway, resulting in a series of coughs which erupted from your throat. The grass you were on was dry as you walked further, the blades poking at the soles of your feet with each step.

You saw the orange glow of the flames in the distance, and, by the time you got close enough to see what was burning, your blood ran cold.

Your garden.

The entire area had been engulfed in flames – the plants reduced to cinders and ash.

Tears ran down your cheeks as you watched the only place you felt true peace burn to the ground, the fire growing in size until reaching a crescendo of roaring crackles as it burned every remaining piece of your soul, unrelenting until the fire decided to quell itself, returning the borrowed flames to the sun as it rose above the horizon.

Until what remained was nothing but char and dirt.

You sat there for what felt like hours, sitting silently as your eyes reddened – from the smoke or from crying, one wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Your highness…” you heard a soft voice behind you, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around.

The gentle, reassuring hand of your lady-in-waiting laid upon your shoulder once more – just as it had many times this past week. It was her way of consoling you, no matter how horrible things were.

“I’m so sorry,” was all she could offer, squeezing your shoulder as you gazed upon your garden – or what was left of it – in silence.

“Thank you, Mitsuri – but this isn’t your fault.”

Your friend sat down beside you, rubbing your back as you two watched the remaining embers flicker in and out of existence.

Until there was nothing else left for you to have.

—

Sanemi’s POV

Sanemi was smug – surely a fire would get your attention, would it not?

It was his last resort, but you had just been so awfully bratty and hostile to those around you.

He couldn’t just stand by the sidelines and let that happen, right?

The afternoon was eerily quiet, he hadn’t heard you yell for your assistant once today. Once you got back from your silly little playground, you locked yourself up in your room, not opening up for anyone.

So, that evening, he took on the form of that one maid again, and stole a skeleton key from one of the royal staff.

“Princess? May I come in?” He knocked on your door, and, after hearing no response, decided to unlock it, knocking once more as he entered.

You were sitting on your bed, staring into nothing, your hands lay silent in your lap.

“Princess?”

“What do you want?” you nearly whispered, as though the room around you might shatter into pieces should you speak any louder.

“Er–” Sanemi quickly skimmed through your daily schedule – something he had memorized every detail of – in order to come up with some excuse for interrupting your time alone.

However, he did not have time to answer, as you stood up and held your arms out from your sides – your expression flat and emotionless as your eyes remained fixed on the ground before you.

“Apologies, that was a stupid question,” you continued, your tone almost dejected before looking up at the maid before you, “It’s time for my bath, isn’t that right?”

“Yes– yes, princess, of course,” Sanemi stuttered.

You simply stared, before speaking up, “well? Are you going to undress me or not?”

Sanemi’s ears flushed a bright red, but did indeed walk behind you – not wishing to reveal himself as an imposter by acting strange – and started to lift up your night slip, the very one you hadn’t changed out of since last night.

You smelled of burning ash, which wasn’t much of a surprise to him – but he didn’t expect you to withstand the smoke for so long, just to stare at the flames that he created.

He removed your night slip, using all of his willpower to not stare down at you while you were indecent.

“Take me to my bath, please,” you requested silently, and, to much of his surprise, he obeyed without a second thought.

He took your hand, leading you to your bathroom, where he simultaneously filled up your tub with warm water with the slight wave of his hand – as though it had been prepared for you all along, as though he knew this would be what he was getting into as he entered your room – your home.

You sat down in the clear water, ash ebbing off of you in ripples as water gently sloshed around you. He reached for a nearby cloth, and lathered it in soap, before rubbing it up and down your back, bubbles forming with each swipe of the cloth.

You remained oddly silent, letting him wash you as he pleased – of course, you didn’t know it was him.

He doubted you’d let him be within ten feet of you if he wasn’t acting as someone else.

Yet, when he went to clean your shoulders, he placed his false, dainty hand upon your shoulder, and you sniffled.

You were crying.

“Princess?” he asked cautiously.

You brought your hands up to your face, hiding yourself from the maid that washed you.

“What is happening to me?” you sobbed silently, breaths shaky as you inhaled, “My last few days have been horrible, and today was just— my garden is gone.”

Normally, Sanemi would feel a spark of pride upon hearing that he got under his victim’s skin, but now, he felt nothing but pure guilt.

Had he gone too far?

“Perhaps I’ve been cursed,” you whispered, “all I wanted was to live my last few days before I'm married in peace. I’m to be wed to someone that I don’t know the first thing about, to be silent and obedient, adhering to my husband’s every wish.”

He remained silent, unsure of what to say – he had been the cause of your suffering, at least in the short-term. This marriage of yours seemed unavoidable, something you’d have to endure for god knows how long.

He turned your face by your chin, gently pressing the washcloth to your cheeks, wiping away soot and tears with a few simple strokes.

“I don’t even know what I did wrong, it all feels so– so unjust,” you confessed.

Had Sanemi not had centuries upon centuries to learn keeping up facades, he would have given himself away right then and there. In a mere second, you managed to replace the guilt that festered within his heart with pure rage.

How blind were you?

He said nothing as he finished washing you up, being careful to not scrub harshly at your skin despite his anger and hatred, and then toweled you up by the time he had finished.

“Good night, princess,” he uttered before leaving you to dry yourself, resolving to not take a single glance back as you looked at him – or, looked at the maid – in pure confusion and hurt.

—

Y/N’s POV

“My princess,” Mitsuri whispered as she woke you up, “you slept for so long – it’s about time to get ready for the ball tonight.”

Your eyes shot open, anxiety spiking in your chest, “already?”

Mitsuri nodded, eyes softening in concern for you.

Fuck.

Mitsuri brought in a champagne colored dress which had been specially designed for you – taking all of your measurements into consideration, as well as a white mask with gold lining, and white feathers which were reminiscent of a swan.

Mitsuri helped lace up the dress, which, unlike the rest of your outfits, thankfully fit quite well. She then placed the mask on your face, before taking your hand and gently leading you down to the great hall – where the festivities would soon begin.

Upon opening the doors, it became difficult to breathe, with people clustered together, voices clashing together as conversations carried through the hall. There was some dancing, yet those who were taking their chances on the ballroom floor seemed rather clumsy and uncoordinated in their steps, while those who were on the sidelines speaking with relatives and strangers alike sampled foods from trays that disappeared and reappeared along with the waiters that weaved haphazardly through the hall.

You walked toward the front of the room, picking up your dress so as to not trip on the ornate staircase which led up to where your father – and King – waited for you.

“You look quite beautiful, my child, I hope you will be able to enjoy tonight’s celebrations,” he beamed, and you nodded in response.

“Are there any plans you have for me, father?”

“I do have a few princes I’d like for you to meet – namely those from the Agatsuma, Iguro, and Rengoku bloodlines. They all show promise – perhaps some more than others – of being benevolent rulers.”

As though prompted, a blonde man walked up the stairs toward you and your father, his hand shaky as he extended it toward you. Otherwise, there were no particular qualities of his that stood out to you. You looked at him expectantly, awaiting some sort of introduction.

“Y-your highness! May– may I please have your first dance of the night?” the man before you sputtered, and it took everything within you to properly school your expression so that your father wouldn’t scold you for poor behavior.

“May I know who I have the pleasure of dancing with?” you managed to ask the blonde, who seemed as though he would keel over and faint at just about any moment.

“Oh– I’m Zenitsu Agastuma, sorry–” he introduced himself, bowing before you.

Reluctantly, you curtseyed back, before placing your hand in his, grimacing at the clamminess of his skin.

He placed his other hand on top of yours, “Thank you! I promise you won’t regret this!”

He took you down to the floor, muttering brief apologies to every person you two passed by. By the time you two the center of the great hall, he took one of your hands and placed it on his left shoulder blade, before taking his right hand in your left.

“Are you expecting me to lead?” you asked, and his face went bright red.

“If that’s alright with you, my lovely princess, and– if we could just do a simple box step, perhaps? I– I’m not too good with dancing,” he said sheepishly.

You sighed, deciding to take the lead in a box step, with him following each of your movements, until he tripped over your shoes.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he exclaimed, obviously nervous, his movements short and jittery with each subsequent step.

You sighed, but then he tripped over your feet again, and again, muttering out apology after apology each time.

By the time the song had finished, you’d had enough of him and walked him off of the dance floor.

“Wait– please! Give me another chance! I– I promise I’d be a good husband, please!” he babbled, tears flowing down past his mask and down his cheeks. You forced him off of you, shaking your hand so he’d let go.

You went to sit down next to your father, who seemed to be chuckling in amusement.

“Are you laughing at me, father?” you asked, your tone tense after what humiliation the blonde had caused you in front of your subjects.

“No, no– I promise I’m not,” he smiled, before summoning the next prince that he’d mentioned – a rather short man with black hair. Through his mask, you could see that his eyes were quite beautiful – being two separate colors.

Yet, his eyes were elsewhere, staring longingly at your friend, Mitsuri, rather than you.

“Erm– hello, may I ask for your name?” you asked the man.

“Hmm? I’m not interested,” he said curtly, “I decline the opportunity to dance with you, princess.”

Your mouth hung open, absolutely offended by the man before you.

“Are you absolutely sure, Prince Iguro?” your father questioned, and the prince nodded in affirmation.

“Yes, please honor my choice, your highness.”

Your father sighed, dismissing him and the prince quickly found his way to Mitsuri, who started blushing up a storm as soon as he started speaking with her.

At least one of us will have a chance at finding love tonight, you thought.

The last prince whom your father mentioned was summoned next, a young man who seemed rather jovial and filled with vigor, with hair that resembled that of flames themselves and eyes that were reminiscent of crackling embers.

“Your highness, would you be so kind and allow me to dance with you?” he smiled, a grin that was infectious as it caused you to return your own.

“Of course,” you happily responded.

He took your hand, kissing your knuckles before leading you back to the center of the ballroom, placing a hand on your left shoulder and leading you into the dance.

“I hope that this evening has fared well for you so far, my dear princess,” he said, twirling you around.

It was comforting – he was comforting. He provided you with air where you felt you could not breathe.

“It is going much better now that I am here with you, dear prince,” you smiled, “may I ask for your name?”

“Kyojuro Rengoku,” he answered, before leaning you into a dip and bringing you back upright, guiding you into another step, and another.

He was incredibly smooth with his movements – all until a waiter accidentally bumped into him, spilling wine down the back of his suit.

“My prince! I’m so, so sorry–” the waiter apologized, trying to clean up his suit with a spare cloth.

Kyojuro simply laughed it off, “it’s quite alright, dear waiter,” before turning to you, whispering “I’ll go get changed, and then I’ll be back for you, alright, my dear princess?”

You felt a warmth creep up your cheeks before nodding, seeing him give you a quick wink before he was off.

Your observing of the kind prince was interrupted by a gentle touch to your shoulder. Thinking it was Mitsuri, you turned around with a smile on your face, which quickly faded into one of confusion upon seeing the person in front of you.

“Hello, princess, may I have your next dance?”

The man before you was about as tall as Kyojuro, with white hair that seemed untamable. A man who displayed scars in every place of exposed skin, his raven mask unable to fully conceal the ones on his face.

Perhaps he was a royal knight of some sort?

“And who are you, may I ask?” you inquired, and a small smirk stretched along his lips.

“Sanemi, dear princess, my name is Sanemi.”

He extended his hand, which you observed had a similar scar to the one you thought Mitsuri had just a few nights ago.

Hesitantly, you placed your hand in his – immediately noting the warmth and roughness of his skin – as though he’d spent years working with them. His grip was firm, but not harsh – indicating knowledge of his own strength.

His right hand slid down to the small of your back, finding its purchase just above your hip – not daring to go lower. He led you into a similar waltz that Kyojuro placed you in, yet, this one somehow felt more…intimate.

“Sanemi,” you started, rolling his name along the tip of your tongue, “do you not possess a last name? Or are you perhaps a scoundrel with a tarnished reputation?” you teased, each step between the two of you smooth, almost calculated as he led you through the ballroom.

“Do you believe you have earned my last name, princess?” he whispered hotly, to which you felt heat prickle along your face.

He chuckled, “apparently not. But–” he led you into a quick spin, before pulling you close once more, “if you get to know me well enough, perhaps I’d be so willing to indulge in your curiosity.”

“Get to know you? Is that supposed to be some sort of challenge?”

“If that is how you perceive it,” he responded vaguely.

Curious, you were – the man before you hauntingly beautiful, the smoothness of his voice and his mystery, combined with his confidence made it difficult to believe he wasn’t of royal blood..

He’d definitely be fit as a King, you thought.

“What, may I ask, is your occupation then, Sanemi?” you asked, wishing to glean more information from the masked man.

“I’ve done quite a few things in my life, and I’d say that I'm competent in all that I do, princess.”

“A jack of all trades is a master of none, you should know,” you challenged.

“Ah, but oftentimes better than a master of one,” he continued, leaning closely into you, his breath gracing your ear, “and trust me darling, I’m a master of all of my works.”

Your face heated up at his claim, thanking the fact that he’d led you into a spin, so you could somewhat hide your embarrassment.

“Is that so? Then I think you’d have to show me one day, Sanemi.”

“Who’s to say that I haven’t already?” he avowed, his violet eyes sparkling behind his mask with knowledge unknown to you.

“What do you mean?” you inquired, side-stepping before he leaned you into a dip, his eyes looking directly into yours as he leaned closely into you.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, dear princess, I promise you’ll find out soon enough.”

As he brought you back upright, he parted from you, before taking your hand and kissing your knuckles – just as the prince before him did.

With his other hand, seemingly from nowhere, he pulled out an orange lily, and placed it into the hand that he kissed.

“I found this growing on the outskirts of your garden just yesterday. Such a shame the beautiful thing burned down.”

Speechless, you took the lily from him.

“Your condolences are appreciated.” You brought the lily up to your nose to take in its scent, before smiling at him and curtseying. “Thank you for the flower, and the dance, Sanemi, I’ll do well to remember you.”

—

“Father, please, I implore you to tell me who you have decided upon,” you begged, having waited impatiently until a majority of guests had exited the palace and gone home. Maids and servants proceeded with cleaning up the hall quickly after most of the festivities died down, and by now, most tables had chairs overturned on top of them, and mops could be found in use scattered throughout the ballroom floor.

“My dear child, I am not able to give you an answer as you so wish. My advisors and I will need to convene and discuss our thoughts on what marriage would prove best for our kingdom.”

“Well, if you’d let me, I’d hope that you’d keep in mind that prince from the Ren–”

“My dear, as much as I’d love to take into consideration your opinion, this is a matter of kingdom survival, and thus my advisor’s opinions will have much more weight than my own child’s.”

Your mouth fell slightly agape, “but, didn’t you promise that you’d take into consideration the prince I got along most kindly with?”

“I did, my dear, but I have decided to rescind that statement. After your rather childish tantrum you displayed in front of me and my advisors, I came to the realization that you are not mature enough to make decisions that take more than just yourself into consideration.”

“But–”

“Child, indeed it is a most regrettable decision, but if I am to keep the kingdom’s interests in mind, then I will do what I believe is best.”

Tears of anger brimmed in your eyes as you once again stormed away from your father, exiting through the rather large doors at the end of the great hall and marching through them. You raced toward your chambers, where you wished to sob into your pillow until the morning came.

“Your father is right, you know,” a low voice spoke from one of the more darkened corridors as you passed by, causing you to stop dead in your tracks.

Looking around, you saw no one – you were alone, and yet, somewhere, someone was speaking to you.

Not only that, but they’d also listened in on the conversation you’d had with your father.

You peeked down one corridor, trying to make out a figure in the shadows, when you were suddenly pushed into the stone wall, a hand reaching around your mouth as a body held you in place.

“Don’t. Scream.”

A muffled cry came out of your throat, which prompted the assailant to point a cold, metal blade to your throat.

“The hell did I just fuckin’ tell you, sweetheart?”

Your breathing became rapid, panic ensuing as the knife trailed down your throat – just gentle enough so as to not draw any blood.

“Y’know, princess, I’ve been tryin’ to get you to see your wrongdoings this entire fuckin’ week,” the stranger started, “but you just don’t fuckin’ learn, do ya?”

Your eyes widened as you realized this person had been responsible for everything.

Including your garden.

In a fit of rage, you tried biting your assailant's hand, to which he simply moved it to constrict lightly around your throat.

“Oho–! Do we have a biter here, sweet thing? And to think that I always thought your bark was worse…”

“You bastard, let me go! I’ll have your fuckin’ head for this!”

“Oh sweetheart, you’ll definitely have my head, but not in the way you seem to think. Y’see, I’ve been tryin’ so fuckin’ hard to get you to understand how pretentious you are, how much of a snob you are, and, frankly, I’ve run out of ideas, princess.”

He turned your face towards him, making you realize it was the same person who’d danced with you at the ball – the man with the scars, the white, unruly hair, and his strikingly violet eyes.

“Sanemi?” you asked, even though in your heart you knew it was him.

Sanemi grinned, “ah, so you do have a brain up there in that pretty little head of yours,” he sneered at you, “then maybe this last little lesson I give you will be the one that finally sticks.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you hissed, and Sanemi chuckled as you struggled against him.

“Oh, princess, have you not realized what I’m gonna do yet?” he cooed mockingly, “I’m gonna fuck the brattiness out of you, sweetheart.”

A small gasp left your lips at his assertion, yet, you couldn’t help the feeling of heat spreading both across your cheeks, as well as the kindling of flames within your lower stomach.

You were to be forcefully married, to live a life of servitude to your husband – who will be pronounced King once your father passes, to endure a loveless marriage – with tolerance of your significant other being the most you could possibly hope for.

You could have a little fun before all that, couldn’t you?

Sanemi darkly chucked behind you, “I can smell your arousal, sweet thing, you really do want this, don’t ya?”

The man threw the knife to the ground before licking a stripe up your neck and leaving bites across the expanse of your skin, starting with your earlobe and working his way down to your shoulder, teeth sharp as they grazed along your body.

You shivered, embarrassment flooding your veins at how you reacted to his touch – you shouldn’t want this, you were a princess, a proper lady who knew that doing such acts before marriage was scandalous.

But, did you truly care about your marriage?

With each brush of his roughened hands against your skin, the consequences that threatened your wishes of this continuing faded further and further.

Sanemi worked his hands to the center of your back, his fingers deftly untying the lace of your dress – as though he had experience in such skills before this.

“Such a fuckin’ slut, wishing for me to take you before you’re married – what would your father think?” he asked mockingly as he pushed your dress down, revealing your breasts to him.

“Oh– that’s right, you don’t care much of what he– or anyone– thinks, do you?” he answered his own question, before leaning down and pursing his lips around one of your nipples, sucking harshly at your tits, earning a soft gasp from you as your face contorted at the sensation. His tongue laved against the softness of your skin, before biting down – making you let out a sharp hiss before bringing your hand up to his hair and tugging at it.

He looked up at you, hate and lust evident in his eyes as he pulled off of you with a lewd pop, and, just before you thought he would move on to the other tit and perform the same actions, he instead raised his hand and gave a sudden, hard slap to your breast.

“Ah–!” you gasped, evoking a laugh from him.

“Oh, do you like pain, brat?” he taunted, causing you to flush intensely across your cheeks as he landed another slap to your other tit, to which you let out another, shorter gasp from you.

“Answer the question, slut.”

Whimpering, you slowly nodded, and he grinned before roughly grabbing at your tits, rolling your nipples in between his fingers.

“Then get on your knees f’ me.”

You looked at him as though he were crazy, but, with one last slap to your tits, you quickly complied, lowering yourself to the ground.

“Isn’t this a sweet sight?” Sanemi chuckled, “a princess kneeling before someone else – how cute.”

Humiliation seeped into your veins as you looked down at the floor, unable to meet his eyes with your own, until he forced your chin up, and– after a small wave of his hand, you felt someone else pushing you down onto all fours. Flinching at the contact, you quickly turned your head around to see another Sanemi staring back at you – fully naked and littered with scars.

“What–” you started, before the second Sanemi started to rip your dress off of you – ruining it beyond repair.

“Oh, are you surprised, princess?” the original Sanemi asked, “how did you think all of the shit that happened to you this past week came about?”

Before you could answer, a rough smack landed on your ass, the strength of it causing you to be pushed forward as you whined at the stinging pain that Sanemi’s hand left behind.

“That’s one, brat, I think you could stand to handle a bit more, can’t you?” the Sanemi in front of you decided before taking his cock out of his pants as the one behind you dealt a smack to your other asscheek. He started stroking his cock with his fist as his double continued his assault behind you.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet already,” muttered the one behind you, as you felt two fingers dip in between your folds – collecting your slick before landing another blow, “such a goddamn whore, aren’t ya? And all from being spanked? You’re fuckin’ filthy, princess.”

Smack!

Tears were starting to escape your eyes – your ass starting to feel raw from the constant blows. The tears found their way down your cheeks before the Sanemi in front of you lifted your chin up with one hand, stroking his cock furiously with the other as he groaned at the sight in front of him.

“Fuck– I’ve wanted to ruin you all week, princess, make you nothing more than a whore for my cock – to turn you into a braindead fucktoy all for my pleasure.”

You whined at his confession, leaning forward a little in an attempt to catch his lips with yours before he pulled away from you, leaving you feeling unfulfilled before his clone landed a harsh slap to your pussy – causing you to yelp as the clone started to prod his fingers at your entrance.

“Please, more,” you begged.

“Hmmm, I don’t think you deserve more, princess,” Sanemi smirked, before closing the distance between you and his cock – the tip of which blushing a deep red as precum seeped out from it.

“Be a good girl for once and earn your pleasure.”

You hesitantly looked up at him, before reaching out your hand and delicately wrapping it around his thick cock. Sanemi hissed, not fully expecting how soft and plush your hand would feel when wrapped around him.

Starting out with some slow, gentle strokes, Sanemi started bucking slightly into your hand – not used to how languid and soft your movements were. You traced your thumb over his leaking slit, gathering his precum before moving back down his length.

The clone behind you finally pushed his fingers deeper into you, making you whine at the intrusion as he curled his fingers inside your wet heat, moving at about the same pace that you stroked the other one’s cock, repeatedly pressing into that one area that pulsed pleasure through your abdomen with each movement. You writhed in his hold, resulting in him using his other arm to keep your hips in place as he fucked you with his fingers.

“M-More,” you whimpered, closing your eyes at the sensation of his fingers inside of you, his tortuous pace and his hold on your hips forcing you to take only what he decided to give you – what he thought you deserved.

“Uh uh–” Sanemi tutted, grabbing your perfectly styled hair into his fist, pulling your head up toward him, “keep your eyes open, brat, you still gotta work on my cock, remember?”

You nodded, opening your eyes as you focused on stroking his cock, increasing the speed at which your hand glided along his length.

Sanemi’s fingers, too, picked up a faster pace, two of his clone’s thick digits pumping in and out of you, until the only sounds that could be heard were the slick of your hands working on each other and the soft grunts and moans coming from each of your throats.

Then, without warning, the clone decided to remove his fingers from your pussy. Whining, you tried pushing your hips back to receive more attention from him, only to let out a shaky moan when you felt his wet tongue travel along your slit.

“Fu–uh–ck” you shuddered as he lapped up your juices, his hands spreading along the meat of your ass, making you wince slightly from remnants of the earlier punishment you received.

“Shit, you taste so fuckin’ good,” the clone muttered as he licked a broad stripe up your cunt, “fuckin’ knew you would, princess, you always smelled so damn sweet.”

“H-Hah–?” you tried to conjure a response, which more so resembled that of a moan as it tumbled out between your lips.

“C’mon, don’t tell me I’ve fucked you stupid already, princess,” Sanemi chuckled, “just what do you think happened to all that clothing of yours? Especially your panties– god I couldn’t get enough of ‘em, your scent would linger for so damn long.”

An intense heat bloomed along your cheeks, realizing just exactly what he meant.

Sanemi’s clone groaned as he plunged his tongue into your heat, lapping up everything you gave him as he ate you out. You continued stroking the other’s thick length, bringing your lips to the tip of his cock, experimentally licking at his leaking slit. Sanemi’s grip on your hair tightened, encouraging you to keep going – to keep serving him.

You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, a soft hum sending vibrations down his length as you reveled in the way his clone was sucking at your clit. Hollowing your cheeks, you started sucking at his bulbous head, using your tongue to lap up any precum that seeped out of his weeping slit. Sanemi pushed your head further down, impatient with you only giving attention to his reddened tip, which caused you to choke along his length as it entered the back of your throat, tears pooling around your eyes as your lips swollen lips took inch after inch of his thick cock.

“Fuck– that’s it, princess, just hold on a lil’ longer f’ me,” he grinned as he looked down at the mess you were quickly becoming, gagging around him like the good little slut you were, until he finally let you off of his cock, with you gasping for air.

Yet, his clone didn’t stop his assault on your cunt, switching between licking and sucking at your clit and feasting on the sweetness that came out of your wet heat. The original Sanemi put his hand underneath your chin once more, forcing you to look up at him as the tension in your stomach got tighter and tighter.

“God– so good,” you whined, relishing in how Sanemi’s tongue felt against your wet cunt, looking up at the one in front of you with the prettiest, watery eyes that he’d ever seen, eyes which begged him to let you cum.

Yet, just as the warmth in your stomach was about to spill over, the clone removed his mouth from your pussy, leaving you to clench around nothing as you whined and pouted at the one in front of you.

Both of them let out a light snicker, until the one holding your chin knelt down in front of you, grinning as he stared down at your pathetic form.

“Did you really think I’d let you cum so easily, little brat?” he inquired, the raspiness of his throat making his question all the more intimidating. You shook your head, knowing better than to argue or beg for what you wanted.

The Sanemi behind you gave a sharp slap to your pussy, causing you to yelp from how sensitive you were from the pleasure his tongue gave you only seconds before.

“Please– wan’ your cock, wan’ to cum around it,” you whined pathetically, trying to wiggle your hips as they were held in place by the clone behind you.

Sanemi’s eyes were wild as he smirked down at you, “Oh? You want my cock, princess? You want me to ruin you completely – make you a complete mess until you’re nothing but a hole for me to fill?”

You nodded quickly, eyes glossed over as he described what he could do to you.

“Fine, just because you begged so sweetly for it – but you won’t be getting my cock, princess – not yet. You’ll have to make do with my double’s – think you can do that for me?”

“Yes– please, anything, plea–ah!”

Without warning, the clone behind you shoved himself balls deep inside of your hot cunt, breaking past the thin tissue near your opening and pushing deeper, until his tip nearly kissed your cervix.

Sanemi’s thrusts were rough, plunging into your heat fully with each strong push of his hips. His balls slapped against your clit, providing extra stimulation as he fucked himself into you, turning you into a whining, moaning mess.

The original Sanemi took in every expression and movement you made, relishing in how he was finally able to break you down into tiny little pieces. He grabbed his cock as his clone continued pumping into you, and started fisting himself at an equally fast pace.

“Look at yourself, princess, so fuckin’ pathetic, aren’t ya?” he grinned, “you’d always carry yourself like you were the most important person in the room – like no one else mattered but you, all because of your goddamn status.”

You whined in response, unable to verbalize anything as your mind softened with every single thrust of his cock; you were becoming malleable, your mind opening and wishing to be molded by him the more he fucked you.

“I reject all of that. You were never important – you’re nothing but a fuckin’ brat for me to tame, a slut who needs nothing but a cock to make her happy.”

He slapped your face with his cock, some of the release which seeped out from his tip managing to find itself on your cheeks before he began stroking himself at a furious pace once more. His other clone pounded himself into your cunt, the blunt head of it fucking that one spot inside of you which made your mind go blank.

He was right – you weren’t a princess, you weren’t someone with status or wealth or royal blood – you were nothing but a hole all this time for him to use and fill, a cumslut, a cocksleeve – all for the man in front of you.

How could you be so blind?

All you could do was moan, becoming more and more pathetic as his clone filled you with his cock, clenching around it and gripping his cock like a vice, your cunt sucking him back in every single time he pulled out.

But it wasn’t enough.

You needed – you craved the Sanemi in front of you. You needed him – not his clone, to take you, to truly beat you into submission like the dumb little brat you were.

“Please, please Sanemi– I need you,” you begged with the man in front of you, tears filling your eyes once more as you pleaded for him to fill you – to make you his.

The Sanemi in front of you said nothing before standing up to his full height as his clone removed his cock from you. The original Sanemi waved his hand yet again, this time allowing a cushioned mattress to appear in the small, dark corridor the two of you were in.

The clone sat down on the mattress, before the original followed suit.

“Sit on my lap,” he demanded, and you obeyed immediately – thighs wrapping around his waist as he slipped his cock into you, to which your head fell to his shoulder as you let out what could only be described as a sigh of relief.

Sanemi gripped your hips, moving you up and down on his cock so you could get an understanding of what he wanted you to do, showing you exactly how he wanted you to bounce on his dick.

It wasn’t long before you grew enough confidence to perform the action by yourself, moving your hips up and down as you fucked yourself on his cock. Your arms found their way around his neck as you whimpered softly into his ear as you impaled yourself on him again and again – with no thoughts going through your mind other than the desire to make him feel good.

At some point, you noticed his clone behind you, a single digit nudging at the entrance of your asshole, pushing and prodding his finger gently so he could fully enter it inside of you. Heat prickled against your cheeks as you forced yourself to relax rather than tense at the unfamiliar contact – allowing the clone’s finger to work its way into your ass.

You continued to fuck yourself on Sanemi’s cock as one finger became two, opening you up further and further, before you felt a lubricant of some sort being conjured from the clone’s fingers, allowing him easier access to your hole as he continued fingering you.

“Relax f’ me, sweetheart,” the clone muttered as you whimpered in response, your movements slowing as you noticed his cock pressing against your ass – which had also been covered in lube – before slowly pushing into you.

You choked on a moan as you felt him stretch you out more than you thought possible, having fully stopped your movements in order to focus on accommodating his massive length inside of you.

Realizing this, Sanemi readjusted himself so that he was laying on his back, heels digging into the mattress before continuing to fuck into you. His clone got up on his knees before entering himself back into your tight hole, entering you when the other Sanemi pulled out – constantly being filled by either one of them without end.

“Fuckk,” you groaned, mind addled with pleasure as the two Sanemis kept filling you with their cocks, unrelenting in their thrusts as they bullied themselves deeper and deeper into your holes. You felt that same pressure building up in your abdomen again, becoming tighter and tighter with each plunge of their cocks.

“Please, ‘m gonna– ‘m gonna,” you begged Sanemi once more as your tears started to flow freely down your cheeks, pleading with him to let you cum.

“No. You’re gonna fuckin’ hold it. You don’t get to cum until I tell you to,” he answered, making you whine yet again at how unfair he was being.

They started fucking you even harder, thrusts unrelenting as they took turns filling you up. It took everything within you to not cum – to obey Sanemi’s command, shutting your eyes tightly as you tried focusing on anything other than how good they were making you feel.

Both Sanemi and his clone’s thrusts started to become sloppier, rutting into you as they both started to reach their own ends.

“I’m gonna cum in this fuckin’ pussy,” Sanemi growled, his voice raspy as he fucked into you, his cock starting to twitch as he neared orgasm, “gonna cum in my pussy, isn’t that right, brat?”

You nodded, “Please! Need your cum Sanemi, please cum inside me–!”

With one final stroke, both him and his clone released deep inside of you – flooding both of your holes with their hot ropes of cum.

“Fuck! Too– too much! Gonna– ah!”

You couldn’t help it– the feeling of them filling you up felt too good. Despite desperately wishing to obey Sanemi’s order, you ended up orgasming all over their cocks, gushing around them as warm ropes filled you up, with both of them groaning as you clenched and pulsed around them.

“Fuck–! ‘M sorry! ‘M so sorry!” you whined loudly as you came, hips betraying you as you attempted to prolong your euphoria by grinding down onto them.

After coming down from your high, you were met with a stormy glare from the man in front of you.

Your eyes widened, knowing you’d fucked up.

“I’m so sorry, Sanemi, I didn’t mean to, I–”

Sanemi grabbed your face, his thick fingers pressing into either of your cheeks.

“What did I fuckin’ tell you?” he asked simply, and a fresh set of tears brimmed at your eyes.

“Y-You told me not to cum,” you answered meekly.

“That’s right, brat,” he responded, waving his free hand to dismiss his clone – making his double disappear completely as he pulled out of your pussy. You whined at the lack of something filling you up, your poor cunt clenching around nothing once more as Sanemi moved away from you.

“On your back, now.”

You obeyed, flipping onto your back and spreading your legs for him without a second thought. You fought the urge to rub your clit – knowing it wasn’t your place to provide yourself pleasure anymore, as you watched him place his cock right in front of your entrance.

“Please, ‘m sorry,” you pleaded as you watched him glide it up and down your sopping pussy, gathering your slick on the tip of his cock. His lilac eyes met yours once more as he finally lined himself up at your entrance.

“If you want to cum so bad, fine. I’ll make you cum until you can’t even fuckin’ think anymore.”

He pushed his cock inside of you, flicking at your clit with his thumb as he dragged his length against your slick walls, brushing against that one spot which made you see stars.

“Please, nngh– need it,” you sobbed as he relentlessly fucked into you, before he took one of his hands and pressed it down on your lower stomach.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll fuckin’ get it, brat–” he panted, “feel me? Feel my cock pressing all the way into your stomach?”

You nodded, eyes rolling back as he refused to let up, your orgasm building on itself again until it finally reached its peak once more.

“Fuck–!” you screamed as he fucked you through your orgasm, not letting up even as you came down from your high, denying you any break from the pleasure that he was giving you.

It wasn’t long before the next orgasm as Sanemi rubbed your clit at a similar speed to his thrusts, causing you to gush again around his cock. He groaned as your cunt pulsed around him, milking him for all he had – yet he didn’t stop, rather, he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you – denying his own release in order to fulfill his promise of overstimulating you.

At some point – you weren’t entirely sure when – Sanemi folded you in half, your legs reaching your shoulders as he slammed even deeper into your cunt, his cock brushing against your cervix with each stroke. Your mouth hung open, your voice emitting short, unrestrained moans as he continued his assault on your pussy – fully abusing it until it molded into the shape of his cock.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me cum, brat,” Sanemi grunted as his hips fell onto yours with every single stroke of his cock. You whimpered, wishing for nothing more than his cum to fill you up – to breed you like the whore you were.

You responded with incoherent babbles, whining and moaning the more he rutted into your cunt, his thrusts getting sloppier as he approached his peak for a second time.

“Gonna fill you up, make you pregnant before you’re even– hah– even married,” he panted, a promise which made you clench around him even more, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you, brat?”

“Y-Yes!” you managed to voice as he slammed himself deep inside you one final time, grunting as he filled you up – triggering your own final orgasm, causing you to milk him dry as he painted your walls white.

Sanemi collapsed to the side of you as the two of you regained your breath, staying like that for a few minutes before either of you spoke.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said awkwardly, “for ruining your garden in the way that I did.”

In response to your silence, he continued, “I had gone too far, I took something that you held dear to your heart away from you. I’m sorry.”

“I think I need to apologize as well,” you finally said, “not just to you, but to the others as well.”

Sanemi turned on his side, holding himself up by his elbow as he looked down at you, a slight grin on his face.

“You mean to tell me that fucking you was the solution to your brattiness this whole time? Not the crows or the dead cow–”

“Shut up!” you laughed as you smacked him in the chest, only causing him to grin more from your reaction.

“Am I wrong, princess?” he jokingly inquired, to which you hid your face from him with the palms of your hands – until he pushed your arms away, looking down at you with a triumphant smile on his face.

“You’re so stupid,” you half-heartedly spit at him, to which he put a hand to his chest in mock pain.

“You wound me, princess.”

You shook your head, scoffing as he got up, making the mattress beneath you disappear with a final wave of his hand, causing you to fall slightly onto the cold floor of the dark corridor.

“Are you going somewhere?” you asked him.

“I’m not exactly fond of castles, sweetheart, I can’t stand the pretentious atmosphere they tend to have.”

“So you’re leaving?” you further questioned, a little upset with the idea of not seeing him again.

“I am, but, if you are going to miss me so terribly, I could always sweep in and take you away from this wretched place, but I doubt you’d so easily leave your status and wealth behind.”

You remained silent, knowing that it would be near impossible for you to forsake all of which you knew and had for a simple, spontaneous desire to say yes, you would.

Sanemi smiled, his eyes soft as he gazed upon you – what was once hatred now replaced with something rather unfamiliar before vanishing before your very eyes, leaving you to stare at the emptiness of the corridor that you were in – having become alone once again.

Sighing, you stood up, gathering yourself – realizing that your once torn dress had been somehow completely repaired – as though it were entirely new.

With a little bit of difficulty, you managed to put your dress back on before heading back to your chambers, the unease of being married the following day looming over your mind once again.

The chirping of birds could be heard from your window once more, and, out of pure curiosity, you decided to peek out from your window to gaze out upon what was left of your garden. Yet, instead of seeing nothing but scorched soil, you managed to spot the blooming of a new plant – one which had not previously grown in your garden at all.

Rain lilies.

Perhaps, you thought, I should go down there and nurture them myself.

Taglist: @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a, @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @crazycatlddy, @pastelbluecloudy3, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @llearlert, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @roronoagem, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701, @whatthefucksatan, @peachdues, @xxsabitoxx (If your name is crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you. Apologies for the inconvenience.)

I hope y'all enjoyed :)

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marwolaeth-76 · 5 months

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Hi (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡, Can you make a one shot of Veneer with a female reader, where the reader is also a singer (solo) but Veneer tries to get closer to her, in every possible way until at one point the attraction between the two of them is so noticeable that in interviews they begin to ask them about it, and in the end they start a relationship.

Hi!! thank you for your request and thank you for waiting, I hope you like it🩷 and I want to apologize for waiting request other people, I’m sick right now so I don’t have the strength to write😢

Veneer x !FemReader stars fell in love with each other

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You take a deep breath as you walk down the halls of build preparing for your interview. Ever since your debut single dropped, your life has been a whirlwind. Fans, photoshoots, awards shows - it's all so exciting but also overwhelming at times. As you near the stage, you spot a familiar face in the crowd. Veneer gives you a small grin. Your heart skips a beat, you've been growing closer to the star singer over the past few months. Between running into each other at events and bonding over the pressures of fame, you've found yourself developing feelings for him. The interview goes well until the host notices your lingering glances at Veneer. "Soo tell me - are you two there is something between you?" Kid Ritz ask slyly, crossing one leg over the other, raising an eyebrow questioningly. You it’s hard to hide your nervousness, a chill of embarrassment runs down your spine, you should have guessed that such embarrassing questions cannot be avoided, people love drama, especially between stars. Before you can stammer a response, Veneer speaks up. "We just care for each other", -he says with a warm smile in your direction. "But for now, we're just enjoying each other's company and support as we both navigate this new chapter in our lives and careers." - His tone is calm, he must have planned this answer, it’s not just that he’s sitting among the audience? although maybe it's just a coincidence. His words are reassuring yet leave the door open for something more. After the show, you share a private moment backstage. "Before you think I'm a heartless ladies' man", - Veneer began to speak in his usual mannered voice. "I..I meant what I said earlier" - Veneer says softly, taking your hand in his. "You know? I really like you, It was already difficult for me to keep it to myself. Everything is happening so fast, I can’t say that I’m unhappy with it" To say that you are in shock is not enough to say, no, of course you dreamed of this, but to really have Veneer feel the same feelings for you as you do? You stand there like a real fool, staring at the guy with wide eyes for almost a full minute before coming to your senses, catching the slightly embarrassed expression on the singer's face. You beam up at him. "Um!..I like you too? this is so awkward, I'm sorry, Don’t get me wrong, I’ve really kind of... fallen in love with you for a long time.." Leaning in, your lips stretched out in an embarrassed smile, Your heart conquers the normal rate of beats per second, you pull the guy in to kiss him on the cheek. "Ohh only on the cheek?" - Veneer asks with a note of mischief, the slight nervousness left his face, although you could swear that his hand you were holding was shaking slightly, he looking at you with his sparkling blue eyes. Looking away slightly to the side, you shake your head, raising your eyebrows and answer excited: "everything has its time)" While love brings challenges, you're glad to face them with Veneer by your side.

♡♡♡

uhhh i really wrote little, srr, bad health does not allow me to think of something normally 😤

#veneer x reader #trolls band together #trolls veneer #velvet and veneer #trolls 3 #fluff #veneer trolls #velvet trolls

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daydreaming-nerd · 2 months

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The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Final Part

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: I'm sorry this took me a little while guys. I'm currently a sick college student without the funds for Dayquil so we've been struggling. I hope you all like this <3

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring.

Warnings (so far): mentions of physical abuse, mentions of SA, major sexisim, SMUT, dirty talk, Oral (male and female receiving), Slight breeding kink?, angst,

Word count: 5475

(all photos are from pinterest)

I glanced through the crevice in the oak doors and beheld the most serene image I have ever witnessed, perhaps ever will witness. Candles lighted the room giving it a warm, faint, glow. The smell of night blooming jasmine filled the air and not a sound could be heard from the small chapel. Rhys stood tall and proud, a crown atop his beautiful head. All members of the inner circle stood around, getting ready to bear witness to the ceremony about to take place.

I smoothed my hands over my wedding dress once more. I had frantically gone shopping with Mor the day after Rhysand asked me to be his High Lady. With the council meeting to discuss my fate coming so soon we had no time for a grand ceremony, but I couldn’t have been happier with the way things had turned out. Even though the dress was last minute it was perfect, and I couldn’t have pictured anything else I would’ve married Rhys in.

If you’re having second thoughts mate we can always postpone, Rhysand’s voice crooned into my mind. I looked through the crack in the door to find a somewhat worried expression on his face.

“Far from it my love, I was just making sure I look perfect.” I giggle down the bond.

I’m dying to see you in a wedding dress.

I smile and decide not to wait any longer to fulfill his desires. I leave a light knock on the double doors signaling for the men on the other sides to open them up. Immediately all eyes are on me. Normally I would panic or flee or worse, but not tonight. Tonight I locked eyes with Rhys, admiring that unique shade of violet that pulled me in from the moment I set eyes on him. The aisle was short and within a few steps I was clasping hands with Rhys.

“You’re so beautiful mate,” he gushes, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“You clean up pretty good yourself mate,” I smile, squeezing his hands as we both turn to the priestess.

“We all gather here today to be witness to the union of these two fae, and the crowning of our new High Lady of The Night Court,” the priestess begins and turns to Rhysand, “Do you, Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, take y/n to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

Rhys regarded me with a familiar gaze, one he had cast a thousand times, but this time held a distinct quality. It was a look of pride, something I had never seen before him. I had never held such significance for anyone. His gaze conveyed a sense that I was everything he had ever desired, the missing piece in his puzzle—lost and now found.

“I do,” he smiled and a tear fell down his cheek.

The priestess turned to me, “Do you, y/n, Princess of the Spring Court, take Rhysand to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?” she said.

“I do,” I say to Rhys without hesitation. Down the bond I can feel joy in his heart rise.

“Y/n,” she begins again. “Will you swear the oath of High Lady?”

I smile and feel my nerves pick up but I answer truthfully, “I will,”

The priestess picks up a glittering crown and holds it in her hands. The large diamonds atop it remind me of the stars that lie over the Illyrian mountain. “Do you y/n promise to serve and protect the Night Court? Do you promise to uphold the customs and practices of its people? To lay down your life for the sake of this court and always act in its best interest whatever the consequence?” she asked me.

“I solemnly promise to do so,” I say assuredly.

“Then I crown thee, High Lady of the Night Court,” she says, placing the crown on my head, the weight of it comforting me. “And by the power vested in me, by our High Lord Rhysand of the Night Court, I pronounce you both husband and wife. Rhysand, you may kiss your wife and your High Lady.” the priestess mused.

“With pleasure,” he smiled before placing a hand on my cheek and pulling me in for a deep kiss. I couldn’t help but smile as I felt his rogue tear of happiness caress my cheek.

I broke the kiss and looked into his eyes as I raised a hand to cup his face. He was so handsome, so perfect and he was mine. All I could think of was one word, husband.

“Hell yeah I have a sister now!” Cassian shouted, picking me up and swinging me around before putting me down and engulfing me in a massive bear hug. I backed away to see Cassian’s happy face and then I felt a hand placed on my shoulder.

“We have a sister Cass,” Azriel crooned and I turned to give him a hug as well.

“Welcome to the family y/n!” Mor shouted, throwing her arms around me and it wasn’t long until the whole inner circle was giving me the world's longest group hug.

Not the inner circle anymore, my family. The word used to taste like venom in my mouth, my family had never loved me, never seen me as anything but a means to power. A marble mansion that was so empty and cold. But now I had this, this family. This marriage might not save me from the demands of Tamlin and Eris, and me being High Lady might not give me immunity from Beron’s wrath. But it gave me one thing, something to fight for, not just my mate, but my family.

The sun shined brightly in the Day Court like it did the last time I stepped foot here. Things had changed so much since then. Back then I had just met Rhys and he was begging me to just say his name. Now I walked in as his wife and his High Lady. Although my dress billowed behind me like I was going to a ball I had never felt more like I was going to war.

Azriel and Cassian flanked behind us, normally they didn’t come to council meetings but Rhys told me he meant what he said, that he wouldn’t let Beron and Eris take me from him. He was prepared to fight our way out of this chamber, and was prepared to kill every High Lord in here. The scary part is that he was perfectly capable of doing so, especially with Azriel and Cassian with us.

The room wasn’t abuzz with the usual chatter of High Lords and their companions when we arrived there. The second we crossed the threshold all eyes were on us. I couldn’t tell which drew their gaze the most, their princess of spring clad in black, the crown glittering atop my head, Rhysand’s death glare, or the Illyrians that flanked us. Each lord seated themselves presently, feeling our silent threat. Every lord but one.

“Night becomes you, sister,” Tamlin drawls from where he leans over the long table, Beron and Eris seated on his left, Lucien at his right.

“That it does, Tamlin,” I say, my words cold as ice. I feel Rhysand pluck at the bond showing his pride.

“Rhysand, y/n. Please be seated so we may begin the trial,” Helion said. I had always loved Helion, and I could tell he wasn’t happy about this arrangement. But for whatever reason this is where the trial would be held. We do as we are asked, Cassian and Azriel standing behind us as the chairs here are not equipped for wings. “Beron, Tamlin we will hear your case, then Rhysand you will be able to state yours. After that the council will decide who is at fault.” Helion explains and nods to Beron to begin.

“High Lord’s of Prythian I have brought this issue before you today because I wish to find a civil resolution to my case, rather than declaring war upon the Night Court,” Beron began. “A few weeks ago Tamlin and I had meetings discussing the betrothal of Eris and y/n. It had always been abundantly clear from that meeting forward that y/n belonged to Eris. All that stood in the way of formally announcing the engagement was solidifying the terms of the union, what we would give Tamlin in exchange for her and how many male heirs she would be required to bear Eris. She was the property of Eris Vanserra long before Rhysand ever tried to claim her.” Beron says with a confidence that I almost envy.

It took everything inside of me not to lash out at the word “property” and Rhysand’s grip on my hand told me it killed him inside as well. I can’t help but feel some sort of fear, these men only see me as a breeding vessel, they don’t care for my happiness and they don’t care for my well being beyond my ability to bear sons. I don’t stand a chance at going home with Rhys.

Shhh, I’ll never let them take you. I’ll burn this place to the ground if they even touch you. That beautiful, glorious voice cleaves into my mind and I let myself breathe again.

“And when did Rhysand make his claim on your sister?” Tarquin asks Tamlin, clearly still holding a grudge over the land dispute they had.

“It started a week ago today, when my sister came home from what I thought was the Winter Court. She came into my office and told me that the High Lord of the Night Court had deflowered her and that because of it she no longer wished to marry Eris Vanserra. Soon after Rhysand broke into my court, attacked me, and stole my sister away.” Tamlin said.

“You dirty fucking liar!” I stand unable to keep myself restrained anymore. I feel Rhysand’s hand grip my arm but I don’t care anymore. How dare Tamlin spew out such disingenuous claims in a trail such as this.

“You are not a member of this council you useless whore and you will not speak unless spoken to!” Beron shouts standing as well, the moment he does his eyes go wide and pain laces his face. Rhysand stands beside me and I realize that he has his talons in Beron’s mind.

“If you EVER speak of my wife in such a manor again, I will fucking kill you and every male heir you have Vanserra,” Rhysand booms, and even I feel a chill go down my spine.

“Wife?!” Tamlin shouts in a fit of anger, taking to his own two feet.

“And his High Lady,” I boast with pride and I scooch my hand to lay on top of Rhysand’s. All I can feel thrumming through the bond is pure male pride as the entire room begins to murmur their shock to one another.

“Impossible,” Tamlin seethes, getting ready to pounce as the room continues in their sock and surprise.

“Quiet!” Helion shouts above the crowd, and I don’t break eye contact with Tamlin. “All of you sit down now!”

We do as we’re told but it doesn’t dissolve the tension in the room as we all continue to stare daggers into one another. Tamlin tries to cover his shock with anger but hides it poorly.

“Rhysand, why did you attack Tamlin in his own court?” Helion asks calmly.

“Because he threatened my mate,” he growled. This time the room gave a collective gasp and would’ve gone into full blown panic had Rhys not continued to speak. “I found her injured, freezing and starving in the dungeons below the Spring Court. If we had this meeting sooner you would be able to see the bruise around her beautiful neck from where he choked her.”

Neither party speaks save for the buzzing mumbles circling the room that followed the word ‘mate’. For me to be mated to Rhysand was surely the most exciting and scandalous thing to happen in a hundred years. Kallias was the one to finally break the silence.

“The laws of mates are absolute, and we will not stand by and watch this council question Rhysand and y/n another moment!” Kallias shouts, standing hand in hand with Vivianne.

My head whips over to the High Lord and Lady and I expect to see something like pity in Viviane's eyes, but all I see is happiness and pride. Happiness for having finally found my mate, pride for having finally found the will to stand up for myself.

“I stand with Kallias and Viviane, if we don’t validate their mating bond, who's to say the council won’t stop with them.” Thessan says. “If I ever find my mate I don’t want to worry about them being taken away from me.”

A collective murmur of agreement comes over the room and it seems that a verdict has been decided. Helion stands and the scrape of his chair echos off the marble walls quieting everyone down.

“All those in favor of blessing the union of Rhysand and y/n?” he asks. Every single hand shoots up without hesitation, the only ones who don’t belong to the Spring and Autumn Court. “Rhysand and y/n. You have the blessing of this council.” Helion smiles.

I turn to Rhys smiling brightly as the whole council room erupts in applause. His violet eyes gleam with pride and for the first time ever he drops his mighty High Lord act and smiles back. I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him and I can hear Viviane saying “awww” from across the room. We break apart and I can’t help but stare at him. Free, I am finally free.

“YOU SELFISH WHORE!” Tamlin screeches and in a second he leaps across the table. He doesn’t get far before blue and red siphons are holding him back. “YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!” he screams struggling against Cassian and Azriel’s power.

Rhys threw his body in front of mine and I put a hand on his shoulder and began to move past him towards Tamlin. He grabs my wrist and I turn to meet his violet gaze. His eyes laced with worry asking me to stay behind him.

“It’s okay,” I say quietly and Rhys lets go. I walk towards where Tamlin is still struggling and stand right in front of him. I can feel Rhys’ tension through the bond but I push it away. “You did this to yourself Tamlin. I wish things had been different, I really do. I could kill you right now, but I won’t. But if you EVER step foot in my court, I will send out my General, my Spymaster and my mate to find you and I will let them kill you in whatever way they deem worthy for a male such as you.”

Tamlin stops struggling, unable to fight against Cassian and Azriel any longer. For once in my life, I see true fear in his eyes. A male stripped of everything, his land, his power, his bargaining chip and now his pride.

I turn and take Rhysand’s hand and he leads me out of the council room, Cassian and Azriel flanking behind us in case Tamin gets any bright ideas again.

“My strong, smart, beautiful mate. I am so proud of you. You spoke like a true High Lady in there,” Rhys boasts as we walk down the hall.

“I feel like a High Lady now,” I laugh, squeezing his hand.

“Just wait till later, wife. I have every intention of taking you home and fucking you senseless while you wear nothing but that crown on your head.” Rhysand drawls low.

Rhys can hardly keep his hands off me as we burst into the townhouse. In fact he doesn't. I'm the one who has to open the front door because his fingers won’t stop dancing all over my waist as he leaves open mouth kisses all over my neck. If this was his reaction to me wearing a crown, best believe I would be wearing them a lot more often.

The door slams behind us and in an instant he has me pressed up against it already lifting my skirts.

“Rhys, Rhys wait there’s something I need to do first!” I protest as he attacks my neck.

“Yes, you need to do me first.” he smirks, kissing me again.

“Rhys stop!” I giggle pushing him off and he finally halts his movements. “Have a seat, I'll be right back.” I smile before disappearing into the next room.

I look around the kitchen and all I see are ingredients. I turn to make sure Rhys isn’t following me and find him sprawled out on the couch in a fit of utter frustration. I try not to giggle to myself as I raid the kitchen. Normally the townhouse makes food for us, so being in here is new. I keep opening up drawers and only finding utensils, towels and bowls.

“Wife, I'm dying in here!” Rhysand groans from the living room.

“One moment my oh so impatient husband!” I holler back.

My eyes land on a jar of strawberry jam and I snatch it up eagerly. I walk over to the bread box and pluck a slice from it. I place it on an ornate plate and begin to spread the jam on top as neat and perfect as can be before carrying it out to the living room where my husband is throwing his temper tantrum.

“Here,” I say, handing him the toast with jam. “I know it’s not much but it’s all that was lying around.”

Rhysand’s eyes light up as I present him with food that I made. He takes the plate carefully and looks at it, knowing full well what it means for a female to present her mate with food.

“You want to mate? Right now?” he asks bewildered.

“Yes,” I say without hesitation.

“You do know what you’re getting into right? I won’t act like…myself. We’ll have to go into the mountains for a while. I won’t be able to control myself,” he explains further and I can already feel the arousal pooling between my legs.

“Yes I know what I’m getting myself into. We can go into the mountains for however long we need. But I want our first mating to be here, in our home. Then we can winnow to the cabin. That’s my only stipulation,” I tell him.

“I will agree to that,” he replies.

I don’t even have time to say another word before he takes a couple bites of the pathetic toast I made him. While I watch him consume it, I’m sure that it’s the worst mating meal a female has ever presented to a male. Nonetheless, he eats it like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

His eyes flick up to meet mine and the plate is discarded on the floor with a crash. In mere seconds stands up and I swear to the gods he’s even taller than he normally is. His hand circles my waist and his touch sets me on fire, now that the mating bond has been accepted. His free hand tilts my chin up to him and he stares at my lips. I must look like a wanton whore begging for him to touch me.

“Mine,” he growls before searing our lips together. The word alone tells me everything he said before this is true. This isn’t just Rhys, it’s Rhys in his most primal form.

I whine into his lips and I feel him hoist me up in his arms with ease, despite the large amounts of tule that make up my dress. My hands are in his hair in an instant, nearly knocking the crown off his head and I grab it before it falls off. We start moving up the stairs as fast as Rhysand’s can carry us.

“Best believe the first time I fuck you as my mate it’s going to be in our marriage bed,” he smirks before slamming the door to our bedroom with his foot.

The second he talks about fucking me my skin is on fire and the buzzing sension I always felt when he was near was amped up times ten. Like if I didn’t get his cock in me right now I would burst into flames and die. He sets me down on my feet and I begin to undo the buttons of his shirt. I feel him fumble with the millions of buttons fastening the back of my dress before a deafening rip sounds throughout the room and those millions of buttons are being cast off in every direction.

I don’t even have a mind to care about it as the dress cascades down and pools on the floor. His mouth is all over my collar bones needy and leaving little bites all over me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful mate,” he groans between kisses.

I feel my crown slipping and I move to take it off but I feel Rhys’ hand stop me.

“What did I say earlier?” he asked.

“That you wanted to fuck me while I wear nothing but the crown,” I say meekly remembering his promise.

“No I said I was going to fuck you senseless while you wear nothing but that crown mate,” he groans kissing me deeply again.

I feel my legs hit the mattress and I fall back on it greedily. He stares down at me like I’m his own personal feast and he nearly pounces on me but I hold a hand up to stop him.

“I want to try something,” I say before he can ravish me again. “Something I read about in a book.” I explain further.

“Oh really? Well I won’t pass up that opportunity. What do you want me to do mate?” His voice is deep and husky.

“Just stand there,” I say before sliding off the bed and dropping to my knees in front of him.

His eyes blow wide as I stare up at him from under my eye lashes. My hands go to his pants where I expertly un-fasten them and pull them down his legs along with his underwear. He steps on them and watches me intensely as I’m face to face with his aching cock.

“Are you going to suck my cock wife?” he muses and the words go straight to my core as I wrap my hands around him and give a lick up his length.

The sound that comes out of him is nothing short of animalistic. It spurs me on as I take him the entire length of my mouth and start sucking. Whatever I can’t fit in my mouth I stroke with my hands and the look of pure bliss on him has me seeing stars. He so fucking beautiful. His muscles are dripping with sweat from the need to cum in me, his eyes are closed taking every stroke I give him, and his lips are parted having the softest wimpers escape them. He’s never been more beautiful than he is right now and I can’t help but moan, sending vibrations through his cock.

“Oh fuck mate!” he screams and his hands find the back of my head. I swear I’m so wet at the sight of him getting his pleasure from me that I might have left a wet spot on his carpet. I moan again to send another wave of vibrations through him.

“Shit y/n I’m gonna cum, let me cum inside you!” He shouts trying to remove my head from his member but I swipe his hand away.

I gently cup his balls and it has him emptying his load into my mouth. I work him through his orgasm staring up at him with the most innocent eyes. I pull my mouth off him and open it for him to see the evidence of his climax inside. I close it again and swallow, feeling the saltiness of it slide down my throat. I open my mouth again to show him that nothing was left and it has him spiraling.

“You cruel wicked thing,” he growls, picking me up and throwing me on the bed. His body crawls over mine and I run my hands down his bare chest, toned and perfect and all mine.

“Rhys I wanna try one more thing,” I whine but I’m silenced by his lips on mine.

“I think it’s my turn now mate,” he whispers in my ear, making me shiver.

He kisses down my neck and my collar bones. I feel his tongue swirl around each of my peaked nipples and I cry out at the friction I didn’t know I needed so badly. His mouth presses a kiss under my breast and when he reaches my lower stomach he looks up at me with a feral grin.

“I want you to know that I have every intention of getting you so thoroughly pregnant that every male in Prythian will have no choice but to recognize that you are my mate.” He growls, pressing a kiss over my womb. “But not tonight, and not anytime soon. For now I will take pleasure in showing them what an amazing High Lady you are.”

His mouth trails down and kisses either side of my bare thighs. His hand runs over my stomach and down my leg to hike one knee up over his shoulder to give himself access to where I need him most.

“Now watch how a High Lord eats out his High Lady, mate,” he grins before diving into me like a starved man.

I arch my back off the mattress and my hands fly to his silky hair. I accidentally tug his strands too hard causing him to groan, the vibrations stimulating my clit. He pulls his mouth off me and plunges his fingers inside me, curling them to hit that spongy spot that always left me undeniably breathless. He pulls his head back to watch how I take his fingers and his eyes catch on something.

“There’s that perfect clit,” he smiles slowly lowering his mouth over the sensitive bud so that his breath fanned it. “Show me those pretty little sounds you make when I lick it, wife.”

His tongue gives a teasing lick at the apex of me and I let out a moan that’s so high pitched it’s nearly embarrassing. He only chuckles before attacking the spot with a million little licks. The combination of his tongue and his fingers have me screaming his name in no time.

“Oh gods Rhysand!” I scream as I hit my climax. Tears sting my eyes from the immense pleasure. Rhys has always been able to pull orgasm after orgasm from my body, but the mating bond heightens everything.

“I need you,” he growls crawling back up my body. “Now”

I pull him close and I feel his hands flip my hips around so that I’m on all fours for him. I nearly groan at the feeling of him running a large hand down my spine.

“Rhys please,” I cry, pressing my ass into his hard cock.

“Shh, patience mate,” leans over and whispers in my ear. I feel his cock nudge my entrance and within a moment he is pushing himself into me.

The stretch is enough to have my chest heaving in pleasure, but the full feeling of him inside of me has me letting out a moan. His hands grip my hips as he starts to thrust inside of me.

“Always so fucking tight for me,” Rhys grits out increasing his pace.

“Harder Rhys!” I scream needing more of him.

It’s at that moment I realize that I’ll never truly get enough of him. He could shackle me to his bed and never stop fucking me and it still wouldn’t be enough. The need for him was too great, even before the mating bond. Before I even said his name. I had needed him the second I saw that flash of violet. I’ll never stop needing him.

“You’re fucking mine!” He growls as his grip on my hips tighten and the moans coming out of him are pure mated male.

“Oh fuck Rhys I’m gonna…” I shout my words trailing off.

“Cum for me mate,” he orders me and I oblige.

I climax so hard my vision blacks out for a second, my pussy contracting around him sending him sputtering and cumming inside of me with a roar and I swore the house shook. I collapse, burying my face into the pillow. I feel him gently turn my body over so he can see me. His eyes fall to where his cum is leaking out of me and he bends down to press a kiss to my clit again.

“Mine,” he says, eyes peering up at me.

He crawls up to me and pulls me on top of his chest stroking my hair.

“So it’s official, I am now your wife, your High Lady AND your mate.” I laugh.

“If I had more titles left to give you I would,” he chuckles, running his hands through my hair more.

“I don’t think I could ever ask for more than this, more than you.” I say pressing a kiss to his chest and leaning up so I was straddling him. He put his arms behind his head and stared at me like I was a work of art. “I love you so much Rhys. I only wish the gods had given me a million more ways to say it. But I can’t make it any simpler than that… I love you.”

“I know the feeling, sometimes I get frustrated because ‘I love you’ doesn’t even scratch the surface of what I feel for you mate,” he smiles.

I lean down to kiss him passionately, hoping that if words can’t tell him how much he means maybe actions can. I know they won’t. His hands slide from behind his head to my waist and my hair, pulling me deeper into him. My hips grind on his abs a little and I feel his hard cock brush up against my back side causing him suddenly to stop.

“We need to get to the cabin,” he says frantically. “Now.”

The cold mountain air grazes my skin as I sit on the bannister watching the sun come up. The silk bathrobe does little to keep me warm, but the breeze is refreshing. I glance through the window where I see Rhysand sleeping on the massive bed.

We had been holed up in the snowy mountains for a week now doing everything but sleeping. He wasn’t wrong about the Frenzy and how it would affect our ability to function as normal fae. One night I tried to prepare dinner for us and we lasted about 10 minutes before he took me on the kitchen counter. As I watched the sun rise on the glistening snow I couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that every surface in that cabin had been defiled in one way or another.

The birds began to chirp as I took another long sip of my warm tea. Never had I been so at peace. Never had I been so loved. It was as if every moment of my life had been leading to this one right here. To him.

I felt two warm arms snake around my front as Rhys placed a kiss on my cheek.

“You’re going to freeze to death out here,” he mumbles into my neck.

“No I’m not you big worry wart,” I giggle as his lips tickle my neck. I feel him wrap a blanket around the two of us and I lean back into his chest savoring the warmth of him.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, resting his head on top of my head.

“I’m thinking about how everything in my life led me to you. How I’ve never been more happy and at peace than I am in this court.” I say honestly.

“Your court my Lady,” he smiles, pressing another kiss to my cheek.

“Our court, Rhys,” I smile. “What do we do now?”

Rhys chuckles into my shoulder, “We go home, we rule, and you let me love you forever.” he whispers, kissing my shoulder.

I turn to face him, “I think I can live with that.” I smile.

(AN: wow I'm kinda sad that this series is over now. I feel like I'm going to me missing a huge piece of me :( I want to say thank you to all who read this and supported me, I never thought this would get as much love as it did. I hadn't written in so long, it feels so good to know that people still care about the things I dream up. Now I have some good news...

The next mini series is going to be about...

now drumroll please....

CASSIAN x Female! Reader

I'm so pumped to write this it's been in my head forever. Plot is that the reader is Rhysand's little sister and she is betrothed to Eris. So if you loved the secret love aspect of this series you're going to EAT UP the next one. If you would like to be on the taglist for it go ahead and let me know!)

Taglist: @crystalferret202, @heyyitsnat21 , @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson , @randomperson1234sblog , @local-fangirl09 , @bleh-81 , @annaaaaa88 , @tenaciousperfectionunknown , @judig92, @aunicornmademedoit , @sharknutz ,

@slytherintaco, @isa1b2h3, @nickishadow139 , @sarawritestories , @coisas-da-dani , @lovemesomevesey , @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime, @why4anne,

#rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand smut #rhysand acotar #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you

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whiteskullofroses · 9 months

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Baldwin IV of Jerusalem x physician!reader

(Before any of you get mad this is about Baldwin from Kingdom of Heaven not the actual historical figure.)

🩷Imagine Baldwin receiving the medication for leprosy along with a new physician who has to see his face for the first time and makes him feel comfortable about it🩷

"Y/N Y/L/N, is that who you must be?" Sibylla questioned. You had just been preparing to leave for the Palace, in which you'd be treating the King when she rode up to you with her horse. Her confidence amazed you, after all she was quite beautiful.

"Yes, my lady." Looking up at her with a bit of a struggle, since it was a hot summer day, the Sun was high up in the sky causing your eyes to burn when gazing up at her.

"Good. Follow me." She ordered and waited a short while for you to straddle your horse as well. You named your horse Sihara. You felt the need to do so as she was always with you on your travels. You were blessed with the privilege of having a loyal horse, tying her to a tree to avoid losing her was unnecessary. She simply never left you.

After you two left, there was another 15 minutes before you'd arrive to the Palace because the city was heavily crowded. Neither of you spoke much, from time to time Sibylla would as you questions regarding your medical career. It was reasonable of course. Her brothers life, whom she loved regardless his illness, was now at your hands.

This put a great amount of pressure on you. If anything went wrong, the people would kill you. She and her fellow men and women of power would hunt you down no matter for how long you'd hide.

But what could go wrong? All you had to do was apply cream on his open wounds for about 3 months until they'd heal and you'd go on with your life.

~.................~

"This way." Sibylla pointed to a long corridor with two guards standing at each side. There was another hallway on the right before you'd finally arrive to your patient.

The walk was filled with anxiety. You could feel your stomach twisting inside out with every step you took. You've saved many many lives and have helped many many people to gain back their health but this time it felt like it was your first time in the medical field. Like it was your first time keeping one on this Earth.

Maybe it was because this was your first time treating royalty?

But when you reached the doorway and saw the king sitting with his back to you, all worries went away. In a weird way, you could feel his calming and peaceful energy from afar, telling you 'everything will be alright.'

You weren't sure how to announce your presence in the room, but thankfully the King heard you walking and was about to make that clear.

"Come forward." His voice loud and clear. The way he carried himself, as though he wasn't sick fascinated you and had you admire him deeply.

He turned around on his chair to have a look at you, as you bowed.

"No do not kneel." Surprised, you got back up and straightened your back. "I'm glad to meet (your father's name)'s daughter. He was a great friend of my father's"

Baldwin got up from his chair and started walking closer to you. "The Saracens say that this disease is God's vengeance against the vanity of our kingdom." He chuckled and added: "My guesses are you are to remedy this so-called curse casted upon me."

"Certainly, my lord." You gave an innocent half smile and nodded.

The king turned his head towards a table: "Come, sit."

As you walked closer you noticed there was displayed the popular game amongst men of power all over the world. Chess.

The two of you sat down, a servant served you wine and than the serious conversation began: "Y/N, I must ask this. How is the healing process going to affect my duties?"

"Not at all." You answered with much confidence. "All I have to do is apply the medicine on your wounds and areas that have in general been infected the most." Explaining to him as Baldwin leaned forward, signaling for you to go on: "This should last approximately 2 to 3 months."

You could sence that he was nervous. After all he was still so young and probably still insecure about his features, as much as someone with a disease that disfigures you can be.

"My lord, you can trust me. Worrying is out of the question here, after all I've been in the medical field all my life. I promise to you I won't let you down." Your words were full of pure determination to save him, they cut so deep into his heart in the best way possible he could just tear up.

~.................~

As you were mixing up the cream that was soon ready to be applied, the tension in the room was indescribable. Baldwin layed on the bed almost unmoving.

His upper body and legs were exposed. What you could see from the start was that his left arm was most infected, than any other body part.

Besides that he still had his mask on, which he would have to remove at some point to get the full healing process done.

The medicine was prepared. You put on your gloves and went to work.

"My lord, if you feel any discomfort during this, please warn me immediately." You stated.

He nodded and even though you couldn't see it because of the mask, the young man was blushing. So far all his personal physicians were males, and since he was sick he was never really touched by a woman in the slightest, besides his mother when he was younger, so of course he was flustered.

You applied the cream firstly on his left arm, being extra careful and waiting for any signs of nausea from the king. Sometimes treating people who have been infected with leprosy can be quite a pain since vomiting and dizziness are common side effects. Luckily the king was doing just fine and in silence you slowly applied the cream all over him. Except his face.

"My lord, may you now remove your mask please?" You smiled softly at him, really trying to get the young king to get comfortable around you since you'd be doing this for 3 months together.

"Is it necessary?" He hesitated. Feelings of shame and insecurity flooded his mind. He never let anyone see his full face, especially not a young woman whom he learned love to gossip around since his sister and her friends used to do it for as long back as he can remember. But this time it was different, and you wanted him to understand so badly: "I understand you may not feel comfortable doing so, but trust me I wish the best for you. To have this treatment the most affective it can be, I'll need to apply it on your face too." You explained as gently as you could.

After a moment, he did it. And he looked beautiful. His face was decorated with a pair of blue eyes and soft locks of golden hair. His face was of course infected, he didn't have a nose and there appeared to be a quite litteral hole in his right cheek but you didn't care. He was handsome no one could deny that.

So you smiled and commented: "My lord, I really can't comprehend why you were so afraid."

He looked up at you, who was now slowly smearing the medicine on his face.

"Is it really that hard to understand?" He sighed.

"My lord, you look just as handsome as any. Infected or not. You are someone young men should look up to. A true God's warrior."

He took a deep breath in, smelling the healing herbs on him.

When you turned around, he shed a tear.

THE END.

#kingdom of heaven #baldwin iv #baldwin iv x reader #medieval #physician #leprosy

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its-actually-minicika · 1 year

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Letters Perished in Dried Ink (18+)

Pairing: Aemond x Reader;

Warnings: vivid descriptions of male masurbation, slight angst, a lot of lousy grandpas who have and will continue to butt into your situationship with Aemond;

Word Count: 6.5k;

Author's Note: I struggled with major writer's block this month. I suppose it happens to the best of us :") While I'm still working on the three fics I promised you guys, have this tiny one-shot to make up for the lack of updates ♡

I tried to be poetic. Alas, I miserably failed. See you in the next update (which is going to hopefully present much better)!

How could a misunderstanding ruin everything seven years of love has built?

Her steady hand reached for the quill, and the girl settled her feather over the small and modest piece of paper. For two, mayhaps three seconds she paused, thinking well on what she would like most adherently to convey.

Her eyes glossed over with the swirl of mischief, and the Lady smiled to herself, while expelling a tantalising and brisk breath.

To my dearest, Aemond

While I was afraid that my time in King’s Landing would change the perception I had of my homeland, I must admit that I was wrong. I might push as far as to say that everything remains the same; not a change since I last saw it. My chamber, with the dolls I left on the goose-stuffed pillows, the training grounds – none the grander as the ones in the Red Keep, mind you –, and the large halls of Riverrun… all seemingly frozen in place.

Albeit the doors feel smaller now, and I can reach without the help of a stool where I once could not, I find that I am underwhelmed, and dangerously melancholic over the time I spent in your company, which accounted for so much of my early girlhood.

Grandfather has taken to my return quite well. He is still bedridden, but somehow more vivacious that his blood is nearer yet.

I look at the portraits that adorn the walls of our darkened castle, and sometimes think back to my elder brothers. I think grandfather does so, as well.

But such terrible quarrels have no place in my dull writings! This new life isn’t as tedious as I make it out to be. I was acquainted with my Septa, though much of my education will be taken care of by grandsire now. Yesterday I walked the grounds for hours on end, and managed to spot some old and familiar faces. I had forgotten how kind the riverlords can be.

One thing that must be noted – and recognised as drastically peculiar – is how quiet it is here. Naturally, there is no active Court to gossip and flaunt back their wealth and actions.

You would like it here.

And I’ll say this much: I’d like it better if you were here, too.

I end my musings with burning questions, that you simply must answer in your next correspondence:

First and foremost, how have you been? Secondly, how are our good Queen and King? Word reached the Trident that your father’s fallen sick, and so I pray piously without stray that he recovers well and quickly. Thirdly, how is sweet Helaena fairing? Last I heard of her, the babe was close to being born.

I readily await for your reply, and urge you to make haste with it!

Until then I remain, as always,

Your inquisitive and loyal friend

His eye trails over the slight curve of her writing. And the Prince catches himself smiling, humming in admission at her carefully picked-out words.

He notices, with great perplexion, that despite his hardest efforts of stifling such impropriety, the ache inside his chest arouses. His heartbeat hammers out of him, granting a slight tremor in his lax and calloused hand.

And he stands this way, hovering over the pristine parchment, whilst bringing his hand out to pinch the bridge of his nose – rub his throbbing blinder with the back end of his hand. His broad chest heaves with every laboured exhale, and Aemond sighs with proper longing.

To my good friend,

I hope this letter finds you in good health, and in higher spirits than the day you wrote to me. It is very unlike you to barely fill a page. I expect your next communication to hold greater details of your life in the Riverlands.

King’s Landing is the same as you remember. Smells like shit and feels like shit, especially now, as I'm denied from the raptures of your company.

My routine too, remains identical. I am seated next to Aegon when we break fast as of late, and I must stress how greatly I preferred my view beforehand.

I report with great sorrow that hardly any intelligent conversation has been had since your swift departure. I'm left longing at the dinner table, for your calculated thoughts, for your sweet melodic voice, and for our elbows to be lightly touching.

Mother is overwhelmed with higher duties of the Court. I try to help her as best I can, with whatever tasks she may yet entrust me with. I lack the patience to sit idly, and so I’ve taken to Aegon’s share of duties. I fulfil them better than he ever could, and the exercise proves itself useful: for I scarcely find the time to think of you throughout the day.

The nights and morrows are harder yet, as my thoughts reach out to you, wondering helplessly how you spend your better days, so painfully far from me.

A dozen maesters tend to Viserys, each saying he will get better as time has its murky say. Yet ‘til that “eventual better” makes itself known to us all, he nurses his body with milk of the poppy, and lets mother do all his work.

Helaena is well. She dreamt the babe would be a boy, and already settled on a name for him. She wishes to call him Maelor, something that hasn’t been rebuked by Aegon.

She misses you greatly. As do I.

As does Vhagar.

The Red Keep feels empty without your fits of laughter.

Beckon your reply quickly.

Your most dutiful servant,

Aemond

A little over a week had passed since his Lady’s last reply. One week and four full days, to be exact... though Aemond would never own up to counting.

His sour mood grew to exceed all expectations, and the Prince bit his tongue through most of dinner, barely uttering a single word. His quiet nature wasn’t something to be troubled of, but even his drunk-out-of-his-mind brother noticed something had been irking him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so brooding, brother.” Aegon voiced out his concern, after another hefty gulp of alcohol. An impish grin spread across his puffy face, and Viserys’ first-born son leaned over in his chair to soothe him. “Am I right to assume that this has something to do with the lack of reply from a certain lady of the Riverlands?”

A low growl etched from deep within the youth’s throat. Aemond regarded Aegon with a cutting look, and extended his arm forward to grip the base of the wine pouch. He took a moment to ponder on the gaucherie of getting drunk, but settled on thrusting himself to the momentary relief that a hazy mind could offer.

Briskly, he took a swing of the burning liquor, and disregarded the way in which his mother absent-mindedly glared at him.

A loud snicker echoed through the quiet room, and Aegon clasped his hands together, pouting acutely at his brother's actions. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

A knot of heartfelt disregard tightened in Aemond’s throat, and his fist clenched painfully right above the wooden table. His free hand gripped the handle of the knife with a knowledge untoward, and the Prince shared a look with his elder brother, while rotating the blade about.

“Careful, Aegon. There are plenty of sharp objects around this table. And you haven’t been spotted in the training yard for quite some time."

His purple eyes widened to rounded specs of unreliant fear. Still he put on a lazy smile, and merely shrugged his shoulders. Aegon’s mouth opened again, threatening to spew out words that would grant no happy ending to their cosy dinnertime.

Eventually, it was Alicent’s glacial tone that interrupted their clash of wits.

“Boys,” She warned them both, not even bothering to look at them, “That is enough.”

Aegon’s mouth slouched childishly, and the man scoffed in rebuttal, while pointing at his rowdy sibling. “I was merely expressing my concern for Aemond, mother. He’s been very affected, now that his lady love abandoned him.”

Immediately Aemond rebuked his cutlery, and in the span of a single second, the Prince latched onto his berating brother. A dangerous look drew across his Targaryen features, making them all the sharper and unforgiving. Woefully he gripped his collar, hoisting him off the ground with an unnatural and vexing ease, and settled on squeezing Aegon’s gorget as he muttered to him darkly. “Either keep quiet on your own accord, or I’ll gladly silence you.”

Four white cloaks swarmed around them, and Otto Hightower nearly screamed, but the brawl reached an early end as the elder nodded rapidly at Aemond, and the latter loosened the hold he had over his bouchered vest.

“Seven Hells…” Aegon had cursed, mumbling lowly whilst feeling his neck for any sores, “Didn’t know it was such a delicate subject.”

Throwing a jaded look around the table, the One-Eyed Prince clenched his jaw.

He frowned deeply, and let out a tired hum at the notion of his sister’s face, so shocked and confused by his sudden outburst. As he felt his own grow numb, no doubt reddened by the scene he’d single-handedly played out, Aemond’s lips pursed to a tight, embarrassed line.

Whilst his hands itched him in shame, and his eye desperately avoided his mother’s, the young man instead focused on the erotic tapestries that adorned the stone-hedged walls.

His lone orb remained fixated on their arched positions, but, as his brother laughed again, Aemond begrudgingly returned his stare.

“Pardon me.” He muttered coldly, whilst giving a slight bow to the silent gathering, and, with one elegant but hurried movement, grabbed the full cask of wine, as he turned tautly to retreat to his chambers.

He swallowed thickly at his swift undoing, and chastised himself for losing touch with what was proper and allowed. His long fingers clasped painfully behind his back, digging at the flesh of his calloused palms, making him click his tongue in disarray; he notices, mayhaps too late, that all his blood had run elsewhere – thus the man takes wider steps to reach the confinements of his room, and lets out a choked-out breath, as the clogged air of his chamber finally hits his nose.

Methodical, aware and present, he sets the wine aside from him, pouring himself a generous cup, and fiddles with the expensive sheets that lay across his wooden table. His hand stumbles over the ink bottle, and the Prince levels out his rapid breathing, preparing himself to write again.

To My Lady,

A gulp of the liquid courage is all he needs to decidedly settle his red feather over the wilted paper.

Your lack of response to my latest confession irks me to no bitter end. I am a patient man, but I will not be denied entrance to your life. I will not have you refuse me the candour of communication.

Not when I spent my entire life waiting submissively by your side.

If your perpetual silence is owed to something I said, or something you’ve heard about me, I demand that you scorn me for it. Write a lengthy paragraph of all my near and far shortcomings, as you so often did when we were children. I promise to make a praying altar of that letter, grovel over it and at your feet, until my indiscretion should be forgiven.

Do not attempt to drive me away with petty ignoring. Such a feat is beneath you.

Another gulp of bitter wine is what allows his hand to flow more freely.

I confess that days and nights I have spent laying restlessly in bed, praying to the Seven to grant me passage to a single thought of yours. I ached to hear your words and feel your voice touch me so deeply. I am afraid I became brazen and unkind in the tortures of your absence.

I lest conclude that this should be a leisure letter to write – words should come easily, and in short, it should be simple for me to tell you how desperately happy I was to open your communication, and see your sweet and narrow writing.

Aemond halts his hurried musings, and encouraged by the hotness of the room, thinks back on the sinful indulgence he’d committed with her letter.

How he kissed over the parchment a million times thereafter, and how he licked at its bent corners, shuddering at the thought that her hand had ghosted over – perhaps even rested on – the marginal and flimsy paper.

He abjures his thoughts to the back of his mind, and lets out a low curse at the throb that forms over his missing eye.

A Prince should never bow, nor beg, nor relent. Yet here I stand, forever obediently at your beck and call, begging you to write again.

His patch fell heavily upon his skin. The nerves of his face stung the stimulated bit of skin, and Aemond huffed out an exacerbated breath, as he decidedly yanked the blinder away from his handsome face.

My duties at Court make it such that it is impossible for me to leave the proximities of King’s Landing. But should you make the mistake of not replying to me again, I’ll have no choice but to mount Vhagar and fly over to you myself.

… So reign your anger on me, should you need to. And just grant me with a quick reply.

Aemond.

Not even bothering to read it over, the man reached for the stamp she gifted him, inspecting its sapphire hilt with a scorned look over his face, and an angry furrow to his brow. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, as he passively set the hilt aside.

His next movements were slow, methodical – Aemond folded the paper in half, and poured the hot wax over it; grabbing the stamp, and lowering it on the paper, allowing the Targaryen seal to leave its mundane mark behind.

Harsh thoughts swirled inside his head, and the Prince lowered the parchment, promising to send word out on the morrow, and personally deliver his Lady the much-improved, insistent letter.

‘The best of friends for seven years,’ he scoffed bitterly to himself, recalling the oath they’d made each other.

He wouldn’t allow her to walk away. He wouldn’t allow her to forget about him. And he would force her to look at him, and explain the means of her reaping silence.

The gentle rays of morning wash themselves over his handsome features. The heatwaves of summer lick over his translucent skin, and the golden rays of daybreak thread themselves into his silver hair.

Aemond groaned in roaring anguish, as he ran a calloused hand up and over his throbbing cheek.

The discarded eyepatch, now resting on the floor. The littered parchments, still laying on his table. The lone letter, which had been written so angrily, just to be resentfully abandoned as his ire simmered down the night before.

Each object served as a dull and pained reminder of his lack of princely conduct, of the effects of the wine… of her brazen and determined silence.

The Prince bit over his lower lip, and fluttered his eyelid tightly shut. Enwrapped in his fine silks, and under the comforts of his chambers, he allowed his mind to lead to her again. To the image of her sprawled-out form, waiting for him inside his bed.

He sighs deeply, and questions his sanity – or lack thereof –, his patience, his virtue. What he wrote in his confessions was the fair and honest truth – In the few moments of solitude that he grantedly took for himself, the riverlander scarcely ever left his thoughts.

Aemond writhed into the mattress, and peeled the cover away from his heated body. He needn’t have looked down upon him to see the quaint trailing effect that his friend had had on him; but he did, and in the process, hastily pulled his throbbing cock out of his breeches, to begin to pump himself – mayhaps relieve the stress and anger that ruled over his very being.

A tender hiss escaped his lips, as his movements sped up in pace. The Crown Prince bit over his lower lip, and a shaky hand came to rest over his parted mouth, to dull the shameful and alluding sounds that escaped his burning throat.

He ran his thumb over the leaking tip, gathering up his seed in singular and striking swipes, guiding the clear droplets of liquid to trail towards his aching stones, and coat over his impressive length.

A low grunt slipped past his hand, and Aemond sank his teeth into the tender flesh, stifling down any further moan or laboured breath.

"F-Fuck… my Lady…"

His back shuddered from the blinding pleasure, and his free hand came to rummage under his pillows in the most desperate of searches.

His eye opened but for a moment, as his digits grazed the bent edges of the first letter she'd addressed him – the one he'd cherished with ample reverence, and secretly carried with him to every place he went.

His lilac orb trailed over the contents of the wilting parchment, which by then he knew by heart, but stopped at the very beginning of her scattered and bereft writing.

'To my dearest, Aemond' – either by crude mistake or heinous design, she'd flicked her wrist right after dearest, drawing out a bold and elongated pause, that hence consumed his wakened days.

It must have taken her no more than seconds to descend her quill upon the page, yet for Aemond, the mundane piece of calligraphy became his most burdensome slither of hope.

Before he could catch himself in his lustful daze, the Prince brought the letter to his lips, and kissed over the dried ink with devotion untoward, accelerating his ministrations as he pressed into it harder.

He pictured her alone and writing, enraptured by the dead of night, dressed up in her modest nightdress, and her hair loose from her bun. She must have made some able pauses, to glance up at the moon, perhaps, or sigh in puckered concentration.

Had she shared with him everything that was on her mind back then? Or did she hold her secrets in, choosing instead to only hint at all that they had left unspoken?

Did she also think of him, as he nightly thought of her, and in her attempts to clear her head, brought her hand out to her ruddy pearl? And did she dare to rub it gently as sinful fantasies of him emerged?

Did he plague her every thought – visited them, at the very least, nestling inside her mind, as she so oftenly did to him?

His unanswered plethora of questions only fed into his fire. His hips began to move languidly against his hand, and the familiar licks of release beckoned in his tired loins. But fucking his hand would never come close to how he envisioned fucking her would be like. How tight and welcoming her cunt must be, how she herself was so untouched, so pure, unaware of the pleasures he alone could make her go through.

How breathlessly she’d gasp against him, and leave her lascivious mark over his skin, in the form of clawed-out patterns, adorning his pale and muscled back. He would return her favour in kind, pressing himself deeper inside her, molding her warmth to the shape of his cock, leaving bruising kisses over her breasts and neck and claiming her – over and over, again and again.

His. His, his, his and his alone.

Propriety be damned, he’d have her. Ensure she’d never leave his bed thereafter.

She’d make for a fantastic mother, he caught himself thinking with abhorrence, and a new heat wave of pleasure enveloped his arched, unyielding back.

His despair reached new peaks of torture, as his mind led him to the memory of her crouching form, playing with Helaena’s twins, with such a pliant and kind smile upon her agonizing lips. How she’d chase them through the royal gardens, how the sun would catch her hair aflame…

Often during the long nights of winter, he’d shut himself inside his chambers, and touch himself repeatedly with the oils gifted from Aegon – with only that specific recollection playing tricks inside his mind.

Whilst elating her as his wife inside his head, the man slumped further into the bed, focusing on working his shaft up and down in blinding delight.

Her voice, her laughter, her handwriting and eyes – so wide and curious and always ready to look upon him, to really see him for who he was. She’d been the only one who never glanced directly at his scar. She’d focus in on his remaining eye, and listen to what he had to say. Intently. Remarkably so. She would remember his favourite book, the passages he’d read her last, and would partake in conversation – urging him to share his thoughts.

His climax neared him closer still, and Viserys’s second son focused on fucking his fist at a wilder pace than done before. Droplets of precum rolled down his cock, as forming sweat coated his brow. A final swipe of his rough thumb over the tip of his manhood, and a tender caress of his tightened stones was all it took for the man to drive himself over the edge, and feel the warmth inside his chest spread across his lower body.

He hissed painfully into the open letter, spending all over his chest and stomach and spilling her name from his parted lips.

He heaved out one breath after the other, and gingerly ran his hand over the written testament of her thoughts. He wanted to curse the Gods for making him so, for giving him the thirst for knowledge of a man fitting his station, but the crass bashfulness of a ruddy stable boy.

For the first time in his life, Aemond wished he were born different. A softer and more patient man, who’d find himself worthy of her; one more handsome, courageous and outspoken – a man who could express his feelings, without so much as a second thought, who didn't allow hesitation and carelessness to break his strengthened up resolve.

He ached to tell her all the things he’d left unsaid, when he saw her leave his sight. That she was lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved. That he was twisted, crooked, wrong – but not so wrong that he couldn’t pull himself together into some semblance of a man for her. That without exactly meaning to, he’d begun to lean on her, to look for her, to need her near.

That love within him laced with doubt. Longing with predestined pain. That he prayed night after night, obsessively, tentatively, that she’d grant him passage into her life again – that whatever held her from speaking to him would absolve itself with time, and he’d finally be free again.

Free to love her from afar, to revel in the bottled hope she’d grant him with the lightest touch, the faintest smile, and the most mundane of glances.

To delve further into the sweet delusion that mayhaps she'd learn to love him. That somehow he’d be deemed to be enough.

As he stood there, unmoving in his very bed, his warm seed rolled off his stomach, staining onto the silken sheets. A long sigh escaped his lips, and Aemond propped himself onto his elbow, cleaning the mess he’d left behind.

His want for her ran hard and deep, and the Crown Prince tensed once more, feeling his stomach tighten in such familiar hot knots of pleasure, that his cock went stiff again. He hummed in admission of his solitary fate and reached for the sinful oils with a shaky and extended hand. Through the musings of a quiet moan, he aligned his hips to his waiting hand, preparing to grant himself the second peak of his cursed and debauchered morning.

Alas, a lacklustre knock put an end to his self-indulgence, and Aemond stifled back a groan. He swallowed up his lust with haste, pushing himself back into his linen breeches and off the ruined satin bed – running a hand through the forming mats of his silver hair, to make himself seem more presentable.

Frustration and madness welled up within him, but he merely sucked in an irritated breath, whilst grabbing forth a shirt to adequately front himself.

“Yes, what is it?” His shaky voice barks out for him. He listens intently for any noise outside his door, and a great displeasure settles in his gut, as the voice of a servant boy echoes through the quiet walls.

“A letter for you, Your Grace. I beg your pardon for disrupting you –”

Readily he jumps out of his bed. And as if burned, as if possessed, Aemond opens the door with a readiness unperturbed, descending his anger onto the poor, expecting boy. The letter rests upon a silver platter, shaken with the messenger’s panicked voice. The Tully emblem that seals over a vast calligraphy drives the Prince to the brink of hysteria, and the Targaryen grabs a hold of the boy’s bouched shirt, pushing him further down into the hall.

“When.” He questions breathlessly, “When did the letter arrive.”

“L-Last night, Your Grace – near the hour of the wolf –”

A feral scowl settles over his sharp features. Aemond takes a step forward, tightening his fist over the cheap material, and calmly professes to the whimpering boy.

“For waiting so long to bring it to me, I should have you flogged and executed.”

The child's blabbering reaches deafened ears, as Aemond reaches for the letter crassly presented to him, and offers the youth a pressing look.

“Get out of my sight, before I should make the call of feeding you to my dragon.”

A clumsy courtesy is followed by a tantalised “Your Grace”. The echo of footsteps gets lost through the depths of the narrow hallway, and the man hums absentmindedly, before shutting himself inside his room again.

He wants to rip the envelope in a violent and perusing fashion, but his first instinct is to trail over the paper gently, to run his digits where her hands had been, to touch the edges of her writings with such a desire to be close to her that it scared him.

In a slow and gentle act, he peeled her seal away from the pesky parchment, and sucked in a hectic breath, as he scanned the contents he’d so longly dreamt about.

His hope shattered as rapidly as it came. And Aemond nearly ripped the letter, as his heart clenched painfully inside his chest.

To Aemond,

I thought about what I might say, and word it out in such a way that won’t leave you perplexed or angered.

I think it’s best for us to move along, and stop with these childish musings, that have hence occupied our time since I moved from the Red Keep.

I will forever cherish our acquaintanceship and hold your friendship in the highest regard. But I am a woman grown now – you, a man in all his right –, and we must both start to think about the survival of our families.

Please do not send me any more letters, as I won’t reply to them, and focus instead on your best interests.

The Lady Tully of Riverrun

His feet carried him close to his bed, as he grabbed a hold of her first note. Desperately, he began searching for differences – in the means that it was written, in the handwriting he’s known since his early adolescence, in the marginal and flimsy paper.

The sting of rejection fell heavily over his shoulders, but rationale trumped his crushed spirits – for there must have been something, anything inside the new communication, that would explain its fabrication.

It was impossible those were her words. She’d never been a jousting woman – never regarded her tens of suitors as less than wanting, for the simple fact she didn’t desire them. She would have let him down more softly. She wouldn’t throw away his company.

Contentment can emerge in the quietness of separation, but their friendship endured years of scorn from the gossips of the Court. Her good opinion of him just couldn’t have changed so suddenly.

A final reach entered his mind, as he folded the paper roughly, and settled it atop his table.

If those were truly her words within that letter, and she wanted him to keep his distance, she’d have to tell him to his face.

More than a week had passed since she’d sent him her first letter. A week since she’d awaited his reply, inquiring every messenger within the castle on the arrival of a straying raven, all the way from the Red Keep.

In spite of her avid efforts, each day repeated the same encounter without so much of a hitch – the scrawny boys shaking their heads, as they ceaselessly informed her that nothing addressed to her has reached the tower of the West Wing.

Since then she’d sent out two more hurried manuscripts, despite never once being graced with a reply. All hope seemed lost when she’d woken up that very day and was still met with livid silence.

Through all their years of rapid friendship, Aemond had never ignored her so. As she cut into her plate, the Lady gnawed at her bottom lip, thinking hard on what possibly could have happened to make him turn so cold towards her.

If her status quo were any different, she’d have taken the Red Fork road on horseback, to reach King’s Landing, and confront her oldest friend on the reasons for his dreaded silence.

But her grandsire had fallen ill, and little to no progress was made on his state of brittle health. Her duty thus assigned her to the Riverlands, despite her need of seeing him.

“You have been very quiet, sweet girl.” The husky voice of Grover Tully echoed through the silent chamber. The girl’s cutlery stilled upon the half-full plate, and her eyes raised from her lap, clashing with the stilling blueness, the knowing assessment of his own.

“Apologies, grandfather,” She uttered rapidly with a forced smile upon her face, “My mind was otherwise engaged.”

“As it has been for the past week.” He concluded with a quirked-up brow. The softness in his gaze enveloped her, giving her a rapid sense of security, and her grandfather coughed in the back of his hand, drawing a pattern over the motifs of their tablecloth.

“I suppose I miss some aspects of King’s Landing. I have spent most of my youth there… – though the Riverlands are just as beautiful.” She was quick to intervene.

“Is King’s Landing all that you miss, or is it a certain boy from there?”

Her bright orbs widened with her grandfather’s suggestive tone, and her cheeks reddened in place, as her voice denied it brashly, “Certainly not, I – Aemond and I are friends.”

“It might seem like a long while has passed since then, but I’ve also been young once.”

When her reply was met with sarcasm, she swallowed thickly and drove on, “We are… really good friends, but that is all.” Once again, her stare dissolved, “Though… I’m not sure we’re exactly friends anymore.”

A knowing look adorned his face, and Grover turned his attention to the family crest above their heads. He took a while to pounder, thinking longly on a vast reply, but he eventually nodded to her, and graced the child with an unperturbed, brilliant smile. “I’m sure the Prince is very busy – as are you, my sweet child. Men, and young men especially…” He muttered the latter of his teachings, “Aren’t exactly prone to sentimentality. Not in the way that women are.”

Her lips pursed into a tight line, as his words rang in her ears.

But not Aemond, she wanted to say. He was hardly like the other men she knew – he could be kind and good and comforting. He cared for her, and for their friendship. He wouldn’t just ignore her, just for the sake of not being overly attached to writing.

Although she couldn’t possibly say such a thing – for then her grandsire’s teasing would have been a certain. The girl made herself busy cutting up a piece of meat in carefully drawn-out halves, until she beckoned a reply.

“Indeed. … You’re right, I should stop being so concerned.” She strained herself to answer him. The older man hummed disconcerted, and returned upon his plating. They continued eating in silence, till he mauled himself to tell her.

“... I know how hard this is for you. But our family depends on you. I had to bring you back to Riverrun, to get the other Lords used to the image of a woman in our ancestral seat.”

“Gods, of course, grandfather – and for that, I’m more than thankful.”

Grover raised a shaky hand, and cut her off with a gentle smile, “You do understand… as much as we both hate the idea, I’ll have to soon match you with someone.”

She gripped the goblet of wine before her, and wet her lips with the bitter liquor. “... Of course I do. It is my duty.”

“Your claim will be stronger with an able man around. And if the Gods are good and you also bear a son…”

“I know.” She sighed into the ample cup, “My claim would be thus undisputed.”

“Aemond was not the right match for you.”

The girl bit over her lower lip, wanting to both negate her feelings, and contest upon his honoured values. But she simply nodded to the greying Lord before her and offered a lacklustre smile.

“Perhaps a change of scenery will do you good. I was thinking that you might like the Reach better than the Riverlands... Lyonel Tyrell is an especially kind and thoughtful host.”

A relocation was the last thing on her mind, no doubt, but the Bliss of Riverrun turned her attention to the latter of his eversion.

“Visit the Reach? You think of marrying me off to the boy of Highgarden? … He’s not yet fourteen.”

Silence washed over their council.

“Boys grow swiftly into men. I'm assured he'll be a good one for you."

“He’s a child.”

“You’re seventeen.”

“It still makes for quite the difference.”

“You won’t have to mother children until he’ll also come of age. It gives you three more years of freedom – other ladies would kill for a faction of what you have.”

“I don’t like the finality of your words."

A long and pressing breath beleft his pale and tired lips.

“I couldn’t send you to the North. Jason Lannister has no sons. The Greyjoys are ghastly savages.” As he presented her his trail of thought, Grover Tully shook his head, “And the Targaryens…”

“You’re childhood friends with King Viserys. A match would not fall outside our rank." She slipped and added restlessly, much like a frail and foolish child. Even before he could answer her, his granddaughter raised her hand, as she brushed off her latter thought. “A succession crisis will ensue.” The young woman muttered in his stead.

“I’m old – I’ve seen disputes start for much less. But here we’re talking of the Iron Throne.”

“You think a war is in its midst.”

A cutting silence washed over them. Grover lifted first from the dinner table and breathed in an anxious breath.

“I pray for the sake of the Realm that such a thing will not take root.”

The languid fires of their threshold illuminated her conflicted face.

“Then it’s a good thing Aemond didn't bother to reply to my letters.”

For but a second, Grover’s face was etched with guilt.

“We all have to protect our own.” Sometimes the means to do it are less honourable than we'd wish to.

For all that was worth on that rousy and portentous night, her fate had been agreed upon. And ever the loyal and oppressed servant, the young lady of the Riverlands left with the first callings of dawn, for the impetuous and striking gardens, which were smugly kept inside the Reach.

She would then leave, with her soul and heart all torn to pieces – yet still completely unaware that she’d never see Aemond again.

Never, at the very least, to how she’d known him to always be.

His wide and calculated steps led him to the stronghold’s gates. So easily it came for him to pass the cluttered training grounds, and disregard Ser Criston Cole with a mere shake of his head.

Above all else, he thought it then, he needed to feel his love again. He needed to hold her near once more, and ask all the outlandish questions he endured inside his head, counting for so much of his weakened days. He needed to reach a resolution, after being disregarded for so long. He needed the closure that her voice could offer him, that her mouth would utter out – that this had all been a grave mistake on her behalf, that the note never belonged to her, that she loved him as he loved her, and had merely been scared of it.

His morning session could very well await him, as he so viciously awaited the perfect chance to get away.

Two days away from the arrival of the pesky letter, Aemond had finally managed to slither unperturbed from his neat and tidy prison. Neither his mother nor grandsire had caught him in the act of it, Aegon had been too drunk to notice him dress up for a morning ride, and Helaena had solely clicked her tongue and scowled at him.

As he anxiously secured the belts of his dragon’s saddle, the man hummed in disarray – Riverrun was but a short flight away, but the despair he felt to hold her inside his arms again trumped over his better senses.

With any luck, he figured, she should still be found in bed. His love had never been an early riser, and she loathed getting out of bed in the damning morning light.

He didn’t waste time figuring out pleasantries to share with Grover – much less the words needed to explain his unprompted visit.

His sole purpose was to get to her, ask for her hand, make her his wife and forever be done with it.

He had the biggest claim to her – a Prince bonded with the largest dragon in the world, the one who’d seen and grown with her so many years inside the Keep.

The command of flying was given to his formidable dragon, and the Prince took off for the Trident's three heads.

Hopefulness emerged with unforsaked determination – but as his actions would dictate him from then on out, his efforts would be all for nought, torn apart in stinging vain.

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