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fandoms-writings · 1 year

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Adoring Fool

Part 1

Pairing: knight!bucky barnes x queen!reader

Word Count: 7.7K (don’t come at me, y’all voted for this to be a long one)

Summary: Sir James competes in the annual tourney every year, always winning in your name. But with how things have been the past couple weeks, his heads not quite in the game, not with the decision he’d made regarding his feelings for you - and the mystery person you mentioned courting.

Warnings: smut 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI, katoptronophilia (sex involving a mirror), fingering, p in v sex, angst, minor injury, hurt/comfort, bucky is dense but so is reader a little bit, bucky and reader are emotional messes, forgive me for anything that doesn't line up with historical accuracies - i took a lot of creative liberty with this one. I will include a divider where the smut begins for those of you who do not wish to read it.

A/N: Thank you so so so much to my friend @perdidosbucky-yyo for talking with me on this and bouncing around ideas with me and for helping me bring these two to life and for beta reading it! I love youuuuu <3

Series Masterlist || Bucky Masterlist || Main Masterpost

The kingdom was busy recently, bustling with constant energy as everyone worked to ready for the Annual Tourney being held in your name. Townsfolk and servants alike had spent days readying the south field for the events and the town was decorating itself in the kingdom's colors as they prepared for the fair that would follow.

Usually, plenty of visitors meant that James was as near as ever, always keeping close just in case. But you hadn't seen much of him.

Steve had taken over most of his shifts during the day, and they'd switch around supper time. You'd asked him after the second day where he had been and he'd claimed he was training for the tourney. You missed having him near, talking and eating with him throughout the day, but he fought in the tourney every year. He fought in your name, for your honor - and won every year - so you didn't argue against him.

However, you couldn't help but feel something was wrong. You knew he was training, you'd walked past the training grounds enough times to see him with your own two eyes, so it wasn't that.

Rather, it was the way he carried himself.

He didn't speak too much anymore and when he did, his tone was clipped, cold even. It'd grown difficult to carry a conversation with him without feeling like you were prying too much or without feeling desperate, so you'd let whatever exchange you were having die. You weren't sure what happened to make him so drastically change, but it was like he wasn't your James anymore, your Jamie.

You knew it had to do with what you'd told him at the gala a few weeks ago, but you didn't expect him to pull away from you like he had. So, even though you'd said you'd tell him, and you have had a few moments where you could have said something - where you wish you felt like you could - but you didn't want to anymore. Not until he was himself again.

You'd hoped that this tourney would do just that. Maybe after he let off some steam in the one on one combat he always competed in, he'd be back to normal. You'd even caught him in the halls early that morning, stopping him to wish him luck. He'd returned your wish with a glance and a small smile, looking down as he grew bashful like he always did. It filled you with a certain confidence that things were on the mend.

However, there was one thing that made that hope short-lived.

As per tradition, before each of the games commenced, the knights were given a moment of time to request the favor of whom they wished. They usually asked the ladies of the visiting houses, the women accepting and tying their fabric token to the knight's arm or the hilt of their sword.

When it came to James's turn, he sat atop his armored horse, Bandit, his helmet under his arm and his hair pulled back and tied in a low bun as he rode up to the stands. Your back straightened and your grip on your token tightened - he always asked for your favor, everyone knew it and it was why no one else dared to try to ask for it before he had the chance. This year, thinking that maybe this could be a chance to lift his spirits, you'd put a lot of work into it.

You'd embroidered flowers from the gardens that you two walked through on a weekly basis, making sure to include the ones he would always pick for you. You watched as he pulled Bandit's reins to stop him, the gray horse shaking his head, making his tourney armor rattle.

He glanced up at you, but it was fleeting as his eyes shifted to the seat next to you, and your heart stopped.

"Lady Natalia," he greeted her. You couldn't pull your eyes off of him as she, and every one of your other ladies, fell silent. "It would be an honor to have your favor on this day."

With that, your heart sunk through the floor, buried under the stands you and your ladies perched upon. You swallowed around the sudden lump in your throat.

"Um," She looked at you and you tore your eyes from his form. You glanced at her, giving her a small nod. It would be rude for her to deny him, and you weren't so pretentious to deny him asking someone who was not you. She looked back to him with a nod before standing and walking to the edge of the stands. She held her token out and once he closed the distance and offered the hilt of his sword, she tied the fabric there, the vibrant red a clash against his black armor.

Natalia took her seat next to you with a somber look in her eyes. She wouldn't look at you as she sat, holding her hands in her lap as she picked at her nails.

She knew how you felt about your knight, she was one of the few who did. You trusted her, and you also knew that had you not given her the go ahead, she wouldn't have accepted his request. Reaching over, you gently grabbed her hand and pulled it into your lap, making her look at you.

"I'm so sorry," She whispered and all you could do was give her a small smile.

"It's alright, don't you fret over it one bit," You replied, stroking her face with your knuckles and she nodded, squeezing your hand before you looked back up to see James turning to ride to the sidelines where he would wait for the event he was participating in to start.

The next knight, Sir Victor Creed, rode in and stopped at the same spot James had. He and his brother, Sir James Howlett, were well known through the kingdoms. Two brothers refusing to go anywhere without the other, never wavering in their duties and no matter the circumstances, always returning home in one piece. The Sabertooth and The Wolverine were names given to them by their brothers in arms.

"Your majesty," His voice was rough and clear, but gentle as he greeted you, bowing his head slightly, "Would you grant me your favor on this day?"

You glanced down to the embroidered token in your lap, twisting it between your fingertips before a hand entered your view. You looked over to see Natalia reaching for the token. You let her take it from you, replacing it with a spare. It was sage green, matching your dress, and had a simple pattern along the corners in gold. Bless her for coming prepared. You gave her a smile and a nod before standing, walking to the edge of the stands.

Victor gave his horse a nudge with his heels and met you at the edge with a soft smile, his gray eyes shining with pride in the sun. You placed your hand in his large outstretched one, allowing him to grasp your fingers and bow his head. He leaned forward, gently placing his lips over your knuckles, as he did any time he greeted you, though it was rare you two saw each other.

He reached for his sword, holding it by the blade so you could tie the token on the hilt.

"It's not every day anyone gets the chance to ask for your favor, your grace," He stated, watching your hands leave the fabric. "I had to seize the opportunity."

You granted him a smile, "Indeed you did," You held your hands in front of you, "I wish you luck, Sir Victor."

He smiled back, his eyes crinkling, "Thank you, your grace. I will not dishonor you."

You nodded, dismissing him. He sent a smirk your way before turning his horse and moving to wait beside your James. He was looking at you, having just watched your interaction with Victor, the scowl on his face prominent.

Your smile slipped, your lips resting in a straight line before you turned to walk back to your seat. Two could play in this game. If he didn't want anything to do with you - fine. You could keep to yourself. You'll go back to the way you were when he first arrived at your castle when your father was still king.

Silent, and uninterested.

Remaining detached grew difficult when James's event started.

He always participated in the hand to hand, one on one combat, every year. And every year, he won, easily.

This year was different though.

He was put against Sir John Walker, a selfish and arrogant knight. You knew James could beat him, he was more experienced, more aware of his surroundings and less focused on how he looked. He took his time analyzing his opponents instead of just rushing in blind.

But something was wrong.

James had been caught off guard more times than you'd ever seen happen before.

You couldn't really see him as he fought, the visor covering his face, masking any identifying features. But you could see in his movements that he was distracted. He was slow, sluggish in his blocks and counters. He'd taken a few hits to the side and the head and though their swords were often dulled for these events to prevent catastrophe, they still had the potential to do some significant damage.

Sitting on the edge of your seat, you clutched Natalia's hand in yours as you worried the skin of your lip between your teeth. The sound of the wooden shield in Sir John's hands cracking against your James's armor rang through the air and it took everything in you to not stand from your seat.

The wood splintered and scattered in multiple pieces along the dirt floor as James used his sword to keep himself from falling past his knees, his helmet rolling along the floor when it slipped from his head. Droplets of blood falling and sinking into the dirt. John raised what little shield remained strapped to his arm and looked out at the crowd - all of whom were shocked to see your usual champion on the floor.

James glanced up to you, expecting to see you distracted, not even watching his match. He hadn't looked your way the whole time, trying to not pay you any mind but failing as thoughts of you tying that damn token around Victor's sword flooded his mind. But now, as he finally locked eyes with you, and saw the fear pouring from your expression, his heart clenched.

Your eyes were wide, Natalia next to you holding you down - keeping you from making a scene, and even from where he was kneeled in the dirt, he could see your lips practically bleeding from you chewing them. When you realized he was looking at you, your eyebrows pinched together and your lips were forming silent words.

He couldn't tell if he couldn't hear you because of the roaring of the audience, the ringing in his ears, or if you were just silently mouthing his name, though he doubted it with the state you were in. Once he realized it was his name you were calling, that you were pleading, and he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks - he was back in the fight. He couldn't let you watch him lose. He wouldn't let that happen, not when it clearly upset you as much as it did. He quickly decided that he may not be able to love you in the way he wanted, but he'd always fight for you.

He glanced above him, seeing John assuming victory and took his chance. Swiping his arm with his shield attached out, he knocked John's legs out from under him, knocking him to the floor. James threw down his sword, and wrestled John in the dirt, knocking the side of his visorless helmet with the band of steel around his shield.

That hit gave him another moment to overpower John, straddling his chest and pressing his knees into his arms, pinning him to the dirt. Before John could try and get some leverage, James shifted his shield to rest against his opponent's neck.

"Yield," he gritted out between his teeth. John sneered, trying to wiggle free of James's body, refusing to give up.

James pulled his shield back, knocking his fist into the side of John's helmet, stunning him before he ripped the helmet off. He pushed the shield into John's throat again, knocking his head into the dirt.

"I said yield," James said again, watching as John tried to remain fierce, even as the fight left his eyes.

Soon, John's body relaxed, his blade falling from his hands as he looked away from James - yielding. With a heavy breath, his body relaxed and he stood, pulling John up with him, though he could tell his opponent didn't want the help.

When James looked back up to where you were seated, he was hoping to find you relieved. No more worry in your features and maybe even happy he won. All his eyes found was your empty seat.

"Leave us, please," You announced in a gentle manner once you pushed your way into the infirmary. The staff working around James didn't need to be told twice, or who you were referring to. They saw the way your eyes locked on to his slouched figure sitting on the cot and they rushed past you, out the door in a frenzy. The wrap on James's head was seeping through with red from the wound that Sir John gave him, but he made no move to fix it.

You stood still, watching, waiting for him to look up at you. When he wouldn't, and you'd been waiting too long to be appropriate, you released a heavy breath through your nose.

"You aren't even going to say hello?" You muttered, your confidence shrinking. You'd never had him blatantly ignore you like this, you weren't sure what to do, what to say. It left an odd feeling in your chest you weren't used to - one you didn't like.

He sighed, lifting his gaze to meet yours and you had to keep from stepping away from him. He didn't look like himself, not like how you'd come to know him. He looked like he did when he first was assigned to you. Stone-cold, emotionless, only ever thinking about the task at hand and not wanting to talk to you regardless of how often he was with you.

You didn't think you'd ever see him revert back to that, to see it again after so many years was startling.

"Hello, your grace," He gruffly said, his voice the only indication that he was still the James you knew. He was just hiding.

"What's going on with you?" You asked, still in the same spot. You had a feeling that if you were to try to get closer, he'd back away, and you didn't want to feel the hurt that would bring.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about, your grace," He feigned innocence and you scoffed.

"Don't do that," You started, "Don't pretend as if you haven't been avoiding me for weeks. As if you haven't been lying to me."

His brows pinched at your suggestion and he shook his head, "I have not lied to you, your - "

"Stop." You cut him off, now refusing to stay still as you stepped towards him. "Stop saying 'your grace'. And don't tell me you weren't lying."

He took a moment to answer, but still, he denied it.

"I apologize, I'm not sure I'm following. I have not lied to you." He held his ground and you stopped in your tracks just two feet away.

"Oh you haven't?" You asked. "Then why did you almost lose?" His face paled at your question. "Yeah, you know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

"Your gra - "

"I said to stop it with that." You took another step forward as you let the anger slip away, sorrow taking its place in your words and your features. "What on earth has gotten into you, Jamie? You tell me you're not around because you're training for the tourney, and then you fight like that? Sloppy, unorganized. I didn't see any real effort from you until the end. So don't tell me you've been training the whole time you've been missing."

He looked back down to the ground, and you took the moment to take another step towards him, keeping your hands to yourself even if you wanted to reach out to touch him. To feel his gloved hands, the metal of his chain mail, or finally feel the skin of his face and the scruff of his growing beard as you hold him between your hands.

"Jamie," You said, getting him to look back up to you, "What's wrong?"

He took a breath, looking down before he stood, towering over you but seeming so small at the same time. You were ready to talk about whatever was bothering him, get him back to normal. Whatever it was, you would fix it.

But when his voice finally filled the room, your heart sunk to the floor.

"Your grace, I would like to request a transfer of post."

It was as if time stopped.

Surely, he didn't mean it. He was just jesting, he had to be. He'd been by your side for over five years now. He was the only one you trusted with your life the way you did. He was supposed to be your friend.

"I'm sorry?" You asked. Maybe you just heard him wrong. He'd tell you he was just exhausted. That he just needed rest and that he'd be back to normal in the morning. He had to.

"I would like you to reassign me. To the outer walls." Your lungs vacated the air that occupied them and you had to root yourself to your spot before you stumbled. You never thought he'd ever ask to leave your side.

"No." You said, fighting the growing lump in your throat and pain in your chest. "Not without reason."

He stared back, eyes wide as he tried to come up with something, anything, to get what he was asking. When he couldn't come up with an answer, you shoved down the hurt in your chest and stood tall, craning your neck to look up at him.

"You are the only one I trust the way I do. You've been by my side for over five years, Jamie," You tried not to cringe at the strain - the pain - in your voice, instead choosing to push forward. "I will not reassign you unless you have a proper reason to request it in the first place. I will not place my well-being in someone else's hands, someone who hasn't earned it the way you have."

"Please, your grace," he whispered, his own voice straining and barely audible. "Reassign me."

Your face contorted in frustration as you turned from him, pacing the room unable to stand so close while he shattered your heart.

"I will not reassign you," You watched him as you crossed the room. "I would never see you again, Jamie. You would go off to one of the watches on the border and I'd never see you again."

You stopped at one of the empty cots, dragging your fingers along the surface, the tremble in your fingers making you ball your fist at your side instead as you turned to face him.

"You don't wish to be by my side anymore," You muttered. "Is that it?"

"That's not. . ." He sighed as he looked down, unable to finish his words.

"Then what is it?" You asked, "Because, though it would pain me to not have you near, to watch you go off and possibly never return," You paused your willpower diminishing as you stared up at him, "I will grant it to you if you can just tell me why."

"I. . ." He started, his jaw falling open as his voice evaded him.

You scoffed, the pain in your heart becoming too much to bear. "You have until sunrise to bring me an answer. Otherwise," You closed the distance, getting nose to nose, "You will stay in your position for as long as I deem fit."

You turned on your heel, walking out the door, leaving him on his own.

He didn't chase you. He didn't even call your name.

Maybe it was time you let him go.

James stood outside your chamber doors, staring at the swirling grain in the wood, trying to gather the courage to knock.

He'd spent supper in the dining halls watching you on your throne with your ladies surrounding you - comforting you. He could tell by the nasty looks Lady Natalia was sending his way that she knew what had happened.

And he couldn't blame her.

He knew his request would pain you, that it would hurt. But he'd decided that he needed to be stationed away from you. He didn't know if he could handle seeing you with your mystery courter, and he would rather save himself the pain of finding out.

He could hardly watch your interaction with Victor, the bastard having won all of his events and, since he had your favor, was also seated next to you at supper. He had to watch as Victor smiled at you, flirted with you. He knew Victor would never appreciate it like he should, never truly understand what an honor it is to be the center of your attention.

James knew you wouldn't take his request well, you were friends, but he never should've allowed your relationship to become even that. It was improper. Negligent.

So, here he stood, struggling to gain the strength to hit his fist against the wood.

The rest of the castle was almost silent, other than the occasional stirring of the overnight servants cleaning up after the festivities from earlier. He glanced at the windowsill, the night air bringing a chill as he watched the stars.

He was running out of time. If he didn't come up with a reason for you to send him away soon, he'd be stuck watching you wed someone else. Someone not himself.

It wasn't like you could marry him anyways. He was just a knight. You were a queen. It would be unbecoming for you to not wed a noble, or someone of royal descent.

He couldn't lie to you though - you were always too good at reading through his fibs, he was an open book to you. Any time he tried to give you even the slightest lie, you'd catch on and call him out on it - which made it hard to give you surprises.

Maybe if he told you the truth, you'd be empathetic enough to let him go.

It was his only hope, and he needed to do it before he lost his prowess.

James's knock against the wood and the clang of his armor echoed off the stone walls through the corridor and his heart leapt into his throat as he waited for your response.

It wasn't long before the door opened to reveal Lady Natalia, scowling at him like she had been all night.

"Oh," She said with pursed lips, "It's you."

"Let him in, Natalia," Your strained voice came from beyond the threshold and James watched as your lady's shoulders sagged. "And head to bed, I'll see you in the morning."

Natalia turned and curtsied, "Yes, my lady." She ducked around James, but not before eying him down with a fierce look, and took her leave down the hall. If looks could kill, he'd be six feet under by now, just by her eyes alone.

"Are you going to just stand there all night," you called, "Or are you going to come give me your reason?"

He swallowed his nerves, stepping past the door and closing it behind him.

Your chambers were dimly lit with candles placed on your hearth and windowsills and tables. Perched on the lounge by the large window, you were facing the stars, just as he had been a moment ago.

"Your grace," He greeted, stiff in his movements to walk towards you, trying not to bump into anything, or break something. He'd never been in here, and he didn't want to leave you hurt and with a broken piece of possible sentiment.

"Do you have your reason?" You asked, the shortness in your tone sending a wave of sorrow through James's chest. He knew he didn't deserve your friendliness anymore. Your warm and welcoming voice. He deserved the coldness you were greeting him with, he knew that.

"I do," He quietly said, watching as you turned your head to slightly face him. And though the circumstances were anything but pleasurable, he was still in awe of the beauty you held, the side profile of your features causing him to pause.

Could he really go another day without seeing you again?

"Well?" You asked, shooting your eyes to his, "What is it?"

He took a moment to take you in, the way you were poised on the lounge, facing him only the slightest. Your feet were tucked under you, one of your arms thrown over the back of the lounge and resting on the windowsill. You'd rid yourself of your dress from earlier, the bodice and large skirt surely thrown in some grand closet of yours. You were in a simple nightgown now, the white of the thin fabric catching the light from the candles.

A flush crept up his neck and across his cheeks as he realized this was the first time he'd seen you like this. He expected you to somewhat have a more presentable attire on and he averted his eyes from you, clearing his throat.

"Forgive me, your grace," He paused, almost on instinct, expecting you to argue against the title he greeted you with, but nothing came. "I was not expecting you to be so. . . underdressed."

"Have you never seen a woman in a nightgown?" There was no emotion in your voice, no sarcasm, no teasing. The guilt built in his chest as he tipped his head.

"I have, your grace," He answered, staring at the stone in the wall.

"Then stop being a prude and look at me when you're speaking to me." He'd never had such authority dripping from your voice pointed at him. It was odd, the feeling it left in his chest as he obliged, turning his gaze back to you.

You'd turned to face him fully now, one of your legs still tucked under you and the other stretched out to the floor. Your arms both thrown over the back of the lounge, the scowl still present on your face, though it was cast in shadow.

"I wish for you to reassign me," He started, trying to keep his words as steady as he could - steadier than he felt. "Because I cannot watch you court someone who does not deserve you, your grace."

Silence filled the room as he waited for your response. When his hand started shaking, he rested it on the hilt of his sword, wrapping his fingers around the metal.

"What do you mean?" You asked, all hostility gone from your words, catching him by surprise. "Watch me court someone? Who am I courting?"

Who? Why would you ask such a question? Surely, you knew. You'd told him yourself that someone already held your heart in their hands.

"Back at the gala," he recounted, trying his best to keep his emotions at bay, "You mentioned someone already having your heart. I cannot stay by your side and watch you court them, should you decide to."

You were still for a moment, eyeing him, as he tried not to rock on his feet, waiting for you to say something.

Soon, you let out a sad laugh, reaching for your cup of wine from the table and taking a sip. You stood, walking toward him with the cup in your hand. It was only when you were close enough for him to smell the wine on your breath did he notice the red of your eyes - the sadness that filled them.

"Tell me, James, what is the reason you want to leave me?" You whispered, setting the cup down on the hearth without so much as shifting your gaze.

He swallowed, trying to ignore the way he wanted to get lost in your eyes, no matter how sad they were, no matter how much guilt built in his chest like water behind a dam, threatening to crack and shatter the stone. How he wanted to reach out and hold you and apologize for making you upset.

"Because, your grace" He muttered, matching the softness of your own tone, "The feelings I bear for you are no longer befitting of my station." He stated, watching your features soften and your eyes start glistening. "From the bottom of my heart, I adore you."

A sigh left your lips, the smell of wine and fruits flooding James's senses being the only warning of you closing the distance between the two of you.

His eyes widened at the feeling of your bitten lips on his and your hands pulling him down by the breastplate of his armor. It was over before he had a chance to react and he stared down at you, the pieces slowly starting to click together.

"You're such a fool," You whispered, letting go of his armor and walking back to your lounge.

He followed you, standing near your now seated figure. "Your grace?"

"Stop calling me that," You looked up to him, the light from the moon shining off the tears that now streaked down your cheeks. "You never let me tell you the rest," you muttered, "You've been hiding from me, avoiding me for weeks." You gave him a sad smile when the realization dawned on him. "It's you."

A deep breath escaped his lungs in a huff, as he stared at you. Surely he misheard you, he thought, you couldn't have said that. But the next words from you proved him wrong.

"I was talking about you."

At your admission, his resolve crumbled and he fell to his knees before you and closed his eyes, hanging his head. He had asked to leave. You were going to let him. He was going to leave you here when you were in love with him as he was you. He never would've seen you again.

Your voice calling out for him made him lift his head and open his eyes and only then did he realize how close he was to you. You were seated on the edge of the lounge cushion as you watched him, the tiniest bit of hope flickering in your eyes. His breath stuttered as he tried to gain his voice.

"I - " He started, the dam in his chest cracking, starting to break. He reached for your hands, slowly in case you pulled away, grasping them in his own when you didn't reel back from him. He leaned forward, resting his head in your lap, letting the smell of you calm him. "I'm so sorry, your grace."

You gave his hands a squeeze and leaned forward, your lips resting on his temple. "As am I."

You remained like that for a moment, eventually pulling your hands from his to wrap around his head, his hands moving to hold your legs, the tremble evident in his hold. When you sat up, pulling back, he lifted his head from your legs, looking up at you. Your eyes were full of hope as you giggled and smiled, cupping his cheeks with your hands.

"We're both fools aren't we?" You asked, and he couldn't stop the lighthearted feeling that filled his chest, making him laugh with you.

"I suppose we are." He gripped your hips through your nightgown, ignoring the heat that rose to his cheeks when he finally took notice of your position. And just how thin your gown was.

He was so close to touching you, to actually touching you. To feel your skin against his. Your hands on his face, tracing the wound on his forehead didn't count for him. He wanted to feel you between his hands.

"Can we take off this bulky stuff?" You whispered, pulling on the breastplate of his armor. He nodded, moving to unbuckle the straps when your hands met his. "I'll do it." You muttered, and he lowered his hands.

Your fingers brushed against him as you undid the buckles and he caught the pieces before they landed on your feet. You attempted to lift the chain mail over his head, but it was heavier than you expected and he took over. After peeling away the layers of leather, he was left in just his undergarments and a flush on his cheeks.

Ever since you'd pulled his gloves off, he'd kept his hands to himself, nervous in a way he'd never experienced before. Your hands found their place on his shoulders, one of your hands reaching back to thread through his hair and he sighed at the contact.

When he still hadn't reached for you, you reached down, grabbing one of his hands and putting your cheek in it. His breath hitched at the feeling of your soft skin against his, the way you delicately traced his knuckles as he mapped your face with the tips of his fingers, trying to record all of it to memory.

He'd almost lost this chance with you. Had he come up with a believable excuse for leaving, he never would've gotten to feel you like this. To be this close enough to pick up on the floral smell in your hair. To feel your hand pulling him closer, gripping the hair at the base of his skull. To taste the wine on your tongue when your lips met his.

He craned his neck up to reach you, sighing into your mouth and gripping the side of your face. Moving his hand to wrap around your lower back, he pulled you to the edge of the lounge cushion, groaning when your legs wrapped around his waist.

He pulled away when he absolutely couldn't breathe anymore, resting his forehead against yours, "I'm so sorry," He muttered again, opening his eyes to find yours already on him. He knew he'd already apologized, but he needed to say it again.

"It's alright," you whispered, "I wasn't really going to let you go." His lips broke out in a smile as a wet laugh erupted from his chest.

Your hands moved to his face, wiping away the wetness there before you pulled him back in. There was more of a desperation in his movements now - needing to be closer to you, to feel every inch of you - you'd given him a taste and now he needed more.

"Have you ever," you muttered in between kisses, "lay in a queen's bed?"

"Never," his words swallowed by your lips.

You smirked against his lips, tightening your legs around his waist. "Let us go then."

He wrapped his hands under your thighs, slowly standing and taking you with him. He stumbled a bit, trying to find your bed with you occupying his line of sight, but eventually his knees knocked the side of it, the soft covers tickling his skin as he leaned over, resting you on top.

His hands started to wander over your gown and without breaking away from him, your hands grabbed his and placed them under the fabric, finally getting him to touch your skin, pulling a groan from deep in his chest. His hands mapped your body, every dip and curve, branding the feeling of your soft skin into memory.

Your hands reached under his shirt, your fingers gripping bits of his muscle as they traveled up, pushing the fabric out of your way. You pushed him back, making him straighten his back and remove his shirt.

Your hands stilled over his skin and when he looked down to you, your eyes were locked on to his ribs. Your fingers gently traced the outline of the bruising there, one of the many consequences of his sloppiness in his battle with John. He sucked in cool air when your lips grazed his skin, pressing kisses to the bruising before looking back up to meet his gaze.

You gave his waist a small push, and he backed up to let you stand, too caught in your tenderness to refuse you. Allowing you to push him and maneuver him how you wanted him, the backs of his legs hit the bed and he sat on the plush surface.

"Get up there," You smiled at him and he nodded, quickly shifting up to the back of your bed.

You joined him, straddling his hips, but refusing him your lips. He went to ask - to beg really - to let him taste your tongue again but the words died on his tongue as your arms wrapped around you, grabbing the sides of your gown. The air was sucked out of his lungs as you pulled the fabric up and over your head, dropping it off the side of the bed.

It was like his brain stopped working, seeing you like this, completely bare and hovered over him. The way the candlelight caught the edges of your skin, lighting you in a soft silhouette, but still giving enough light to where he could see you. The gaze you held on him, it held him there like an obedient hound but he didn't mind at all. He liked being under your control.

He was knocked from his stupor when you placed your hands on his chest, rolling your hips into his, your lips parting to allow a sinful whine to fill his ears.

He reached forward, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him, pressing your hips roughly into his as he sat up, capturing your lips with his own. Your arms snaked around his neck as his hand shifted between the two of you, his thumb brushing small circles over your clit, making you gasp against his mouth.

He snuck his hand lower, between your legs, his fingertips tracing along the edges of your folds, gathering the slick there.

"Is this all for me?" He muttered, letting you suck his tongue into your mouth as you nodded. You pushed your hips into his hand and he groaned, dragging his fingers through your folds, prodding at your entrance.

He sunk two digits in, cooing at the whine that left your lips. His other hand reached up to wrap around the back of your neck and pulled you off his mouth so he could see you. The way you fought to keep your eyes open, your jaw slack as you grinded on his fingers.

He curled his fingers, finding that soft spot that had you keening in his lap and he grinned, holding you as still as he could while his fingers pumped in and out of you. He'd never seen you so vulnerable and he knew he wasn't going to be able to get enough of it.

He grinned against your cheek as you moved to bite at his neck, finally moving out of his direct line of sight, and what he saw made his cock twitch.

Set up in front of your bed, was your dressing table, the mirror open. He could see the lines of your back as you circled your hips against his hand, the bend in your legs and the curve of your ass - it gave him an idea.

He pulled you from his neck and pulled his fingers from your cunt, your whine at the loss, making him chuckle. He kissed your lips again before telling you, "Turn around for me?" The look that passed through your eyes told him you knew what he was suggesting - and you wanted it.

You pulled him in for one more press against your lips, your tongues gliding against each other for just a moment before you pulled away. Throwing your leg over his knees, you turned around, watching him behind you through the mirror as he shifted to follow you. The bed dipped under his weight as shifted, ridding himself of his trousers before he moved to his knees, coming up behind you, eyes locked on yours through the reflection.

His hand wrapped around your front, cupping your breast, pinching at your nipple as his lips met your neck. He sucked on the soft skin there, taking a moment to bask in the sound that left your lips before pushing you down into the blankets, his hand remaining between your shoulder blades as he looked down to your core. It was glistening and he couldn't help but drag his fingers through it again.

Your body flinched as you moaned at the little contact he was giving you. "Please, Jamie."

Your begging sent chills down his spine. You never begged. Not for anything.

To be granted the space to hear you do that, made him feel stronger than any suit of armor or handcrafted blade ever could.

Pulling you by your hips back to his, he sighed when his cock slid against your folds through your slick, watching you arch your back. He repeated the movement just two more times before the head of his member caught your entrance.

"Oh, fuck," his breath shuddered as he watched your cunt suck him into your heat. He wanted to watch as he sunk all the way in, but the deliciously loud moan you let out had him raising his gaze to see your reflection.

Your back arched, your face in the blankets as you reached out for purchase on one of them, gripping it with white knuckles.

The sight alone could bring him over the edge, but then that would leave you and he couldn't have that.

Using his knees, he moved your legs further apart so he could lean over you, the new angle pulling another keen from your chest. Resting his weight on his right arm, he reached around to grab your breast, rolling the sensitive bud of your nipple between his fingers.

When he started rocking his hips into yours, he didn't expect you to push them back against him, meeting his thrusts and pulling sounds out of his throat to match yours. Releasing your breast, he moved to slide his hand up your arm, grabbing your wrist and leaning down to suck on the skin of your shoulder.

When you started begging again, chanting please, please, don't stop, please over and over again into the blankets, he knew you were close and allowed himself to drown in your pleas just once more before giving you what you wanted.

His hand left your hip, diving down to circle your clit as his other reached for your chin, tipping your head up so he could see your face in the reflection.

"Let me see your eyes," He muttered into your neck, watching your eyes flutter open, "there we go."

Your eyes widened when his fingers quickened their circles over your clit. And he knew he was hitting the right spot when your jaw slackened and your arms tensed.

"C'mon, your grace," His lips brushed against your ear, "I wanna see you when you cum."

That was all it took for your body to seize up, a shout leaving your lips as your cunt gripped him and he had to catch himself so he didn't crush you. His fingers kept circling your clit and he didn't stop his pounding into you until you were crying out again, a second orgasm quickly taking over your body.

"There you go," he grunted, thrusting just a few more times before he quickly pulled himself from you, your whine making him wish he could stay inside you. He gripped his cock, giving it a few tugs before he released himself on your back, trying to quiet his moan as much as he could. He didn't know if you wanted anyone in the castle knowing and he wasn't about to make that decision for you.

Your body was slack against the bed, and when he looked up to your reflection, he found your eyes already on him - like they always were. A heat took his cheeks but he refused to look away from you, especially when you gave him that lazy smile and giggle. His lips split into a grin as he joined your soft laughter, moving out from behind you and helping you unbend your legs, laying on your stomach.

You pointed him to the wash bin where there was a damp cloth from your bath earlier. And after getting you cleaned up and resituated in your bed, he sat on the edge, wishing he could stay.

But he didn't want to start any gossip around the castle.

You tugged on his arm, "What's wrong?"

"I should go," he muttered, reaching for your face, "Don't want the castle finding out do you?"

Your brows pinched as you sat up and wrapped your hands around his head, "James, you better get in this damn bed."

His eyes widened, "Are you sure? I'm supposed to be guarding you."

"And what better place to do that than by my side."

He sighed and nodded, crawling in next to you, sighing at the softness of your bed. He'd been too preoccupied moments ago to notice how nice it was, but compared to his bed in the barracks, this was heaven on earth.

"I have something for you," You muttered before you reached over to the side table, turning back around with a little folded up cloth. You placed it in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it. "This was supposed to be my token for you," You started, pulling your hands to rest in your lap, "before you asked Natalia for hers."

The guilt started to grow in his chest again as he unfolded the fabric, revealing embroidery of some very familiar flowers. Your initials were in the corner, the way they were stitched telling him you made it by hand.

"Your grace," He muttered, "I don't deserve this."

"I get to decide that," You whispered back, leaning over him, lightly pressing your lips to his. "You carry that with you, so you don't forget."

"Forget what?"

"That I adore you as well."

As always, thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are all very much appreciated.

If you liked the story, please consider checking out my Ko-Fi

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gurugirl · 7 months

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The Tiffany Club (ongoing)

In which Camille works at an exclusive sex club for high rollersand she runs into a wealthy handsome stranger named Harry twice in one day.When Harry and Camille realize they want to be together can Harry look past Camille's day job?

Don't Stand So Close (Completed Series)

In which Anna has a crush on her best friend's author-dad, Harry Styles, and one day he realizes he feels the same. Nothing good can come of a secret relationship, but nothing good can come from telling everyone the truth either.

The House Maid (Completed Series)

Set roughly in the early 1920s. In which Daisy and Harry both work for the same house and things don’t start out well for them. However, they soon realize they can’t stay apart and find themselves coming together and falling in love but what happens when jealousy and insecurities come between them?

The Queen's Secret (ongoing)

In which young Queen Y/n is married to King Edgar and they find themselves in need of a way to get Y/n pregnant as Edgar is infertile. King Edgar's brother in-law, Prince Harry is selected for the task but the deed is to be kept quiet lest the kingdom find out their dirty little secret. Unsurprisingly, the Queen finds herself falling for the handsome prince and he can't seem to get enough of her either.

Tales From the Modern Incubus (ongoing)

Harry is almost as old as time and he's got a lot to say. But right now he's hunting for the perfect female to carry his heir (as he must do every century). When Harry meets you, a pastor's daughter, he finds himself strangely obsessed with you in every way but you’re a good girl and Harry is definitely not your usual type. Will the handsome demon corrupt sweet y/n?

Lupus Noctis (ongoing)

(links to @avocadoguru blog where you can find this fic!)

Harry is a werewolf & Y/N is a forest ranger - fic co-written with @fkinavocado

Lupus Noctis fan art and this fan art by @tiredinwinter

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alannybunnue · 1 year

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I picture Queen!Reader being a kind of a tsundere with Viserys

Like she frets over his health all the time, manages his diet and medicine, sends for the most skilled and qualified medical practitioners in the known world to care for her husband

But whenever Viserys is like “Haha you love me 🥰” the queen is just like “Y-you’re an absolute child ljust ike your brother 😳😡”

YES

I am already shipping them 😌

Imagine this in the beginning of their marriage.

The Queen stood beside her husband as the Grand Maester presented the procedure of healing for his hand with maggots.

"And you are sure this will work, Grand Maester?" - She questioned

"Well, we can only be sure with time, your Grace" - The Grand Maester answered

"That's no confirmation" - She exclaimed, once she did, the King with his other hand holded her - "Calm yourself, my dear, we can trust the Grand Maester" - Viserys reassured her, squeezing her hand just a bit.

"You must remember, my queen, that the Maesters are providing the best treatments for the king. There's no reason to doubt them." - The Lord Hand decided to open his mouth.

If glares could kill, Otto Hightower would be a dead man at this moment. Once they were done, both of the men left their Queen and King alone for the night.

"I told you we can't trust these people" - the Queen declared - "They can't even be sure of their own procedures."

"There's no need to fret, they are doing their best" - Viserys affirmed, as his wife looks at his in disbelief and removes her hand from his. - "No need to fret? Look at your hand! You are already losing your finger, what's next? Your arm?"

Not too long after, the Queen starts to hear her husband laughing a bit.

"And now you are laughing? You are such a child Viserys!" - She exclaimed

"To think you only married me out of convenience and you still worry about me like that" - Viserys keeps laughing while the Queen's face of disbelief grows bigger

"It is my duty as queen and your wife!" - She says.

The King keeps his grin - "Then tell me, it's also your duty to help me bathe, stand by my side during procedures, manage my diet, prepare me for bed? If i didn't knew you i would say you love me."

She stands still for a moment, her face was obviously turning red, not out of anger. She shrugs off.

"Someone needs to attend to you in your conditions." - She briefly answers as she gets closer - "As to you, in your conditions." - The King replied as he puts his hands on her stomach that was already growing after 3 moons of gestation.

"I swore i wasn't going to replace the late Queen in your heart, to you and to Rhaenyra..." - She mumbled

"You don't need to, you have your own place in it"

#ask #a song of ice and fire #yandere concept #yandere x reader #house of the dragon #yandere imagine #house targaryen #viserys i targaryen #viserys targaryen x reader #queen!reader

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boldstarks · 2 months

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The Unwanted Wife Blurb #1: First Son

word count: 1K pairing: young!Robert Baratheon x wife!reader, oc x reader (mentioned) warnings: pregnancy, brief mentions of sex and childbirth, emotional neglect of a spouse

Despite you being nine moons gone with a child, your husband, the king, had very little issue leaving with an entourage of his most favored cronies on a hunting trip in the Kingswood. You didn't even protest when he announced the trip to you. You simply went back to your reading. A few months earlier, you would have raged at his callousness, but you are too tired now. You didn't know if it was from the pregnancy or maybe you were finally numb to Robert's poor treatment.

You simply told him to behave sensibly and turned back to your reading. When he set out a day later, you watched him leave from the balcony of your chambers. Many ladies gathered in the courtyard to send off their husbands in the king's hunting entourage. You made the excuse of being much too heavy with the child to make it in a timely manner.

You watched the group of men atop their horses ride away, your husband at the head.

"Your Grace, I'm sure everything will be alright," one of your ladies' maids said.

She means to be comforting, but her words fill you with bitter contempt.

"I am not the only woman with a thoughtless boar for a husband, and I won't be the last," you say, watching the riding party disappear outside the Red Keep's walls.

The maid said nothing and began gathering the soiled sheets from your bed; they were tainted by sweat and Robert's seed. Your coupling the prior night had been angry, tinged with a foreign tenderness that Robert had only developed when your pregnancy had started to show.

You figured Robert's surrogate father and Hand, Jon Arryn, would keep you company. This was both a good and a bad thing, in your opinion. You were fond of the man himself, but not of his wife, Lysa Tully. It was a struggle to get along with the woman despite trying to be kind to her.

You tried to tell yourself that this was just like any other time. Robert was away and left you by yourself for days on end. But you knew deep down that you would give birth alone. The King had barely been gone a day when your labors began.

You spent nearly a full day in the birthing bed, writhing with agony, without a word from the hunting party or Robert. You cried nearly the entire time. You cried for home, for your mother, for your father, and mostly for your first love, Alyn, who had died fighting during Robert's Rebellion. Then, at dusk on the third day of his absence, your child was born.

"It's a boy, Your Grace," Grand Maester Pycelle said, holding the newborn child aloft after he had slipped free from the birth canal.

The squalling infant is quickly cleaned by some septas before being swaddled and brought back to you.

The boy is small and red-faced, and he entered the world howling furiously. He only stops wailing when he is put on your chest. You find yourself smiling when you gently cradle his small head of damp black curls as his Baratheon blue eyes stare up at you. Look at your little boy and feel that spark of happiness in your chest that you hadn't felt since you received news of Alyn's death.

"His name shall be Alaric," you tell the Maester without looking away from your baby.

You knew Robert wanted to name his first son, Stefan, after his father, and he would most likely throw a fit because of it. But he forfeited his vote in the matter when he decided to run around the Kingswood rather than be there for the birth of his heir.

_____________

A day after you gave birth, the hunting party arrived back at the Red Keep. Robert found that you had not come to greet him, just as you could not be bothered by seeing him off either.

He stormed into the castle, rather annoyed at this perceived abandonment. He entered your chambers without bothering to knock and found you sleeping in bed.

Right as Robert is going to start yelling, you turn in your sleep, and it becomes obvious to him that you are no longer with the child. A pang of fear echoes through him until he hears a soft coo and finds a child beside your bed in a cradle. The baby had a head of black curls and blue eyes and was rather large. The child had wiggled out of his swaddle while you slept soundly and was waving his small fists about.

"Hello," Robert says. He's utterly captivated by the little life that he played a part in creating.

He reaches a large hand out to the child and softly pets the head of black curls. The child gurgles contently at the touch of its father.

"His name is Alaric," you said, breaking the king's trance.

"I should have been here," Robert says.

The man had the decency to look ashamed of himself. You nearly tell him it's okay, but you know it's far from okay for a father to miss the birth of his first trueborn child.

"Moving forward, things will need to change," you reply and sit up.

Robert finally looks you in the eye. He seems hesitant about your remark.

"I cannot live a life where my husband and I are constantly at each other's throats. I don't want our son to be raised by parents who can't stand each other," you say.

You look at your son in his cradle and can't help but smile at him.

"What are we to do about it?" Robert asks, still skeptical.

"We shall dine together three times a week, and I would like to share our chambers. In the North, it is custom that a husband and wife share bedchambers, and I believe it will bring us closer," you said.

Robert looks at your face; your eyes are shining with optimism. You truly were willing to learn how to love him. Why couldn't he grant you this one thing?

"Okay," he said.

You're silent for a moment, somewhat shocked that Robert didn't try to put up any sort of fight. Not knowing what else to say, you nod quickly.

You change the subject smoothly: "Would you like to hold your son?"

It's Robert's turn to nod like a fool now.

#asoiaf #game of thrones #Robert Baratheon x reader #oc x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #the unwanted wife #ryswell!reader #stark!reader #northern!reader #queen!reader #young Robert Baratheon x reader

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hanasnx · 11 months

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OH ALSO I have loads of ideas to just throw in your inbox so feel free to ignore them or whatever BUT……… remember the fic idea I made about infidelity kink being married to a king but ur fuckin anakin who is ur body guard 🤭🤭🤭 maybe… maybe u could pls maybe write sum to do with that or maybe not ok BYE SORRY

here are my thoughts on it melding my style with your fic and the extra details u gave me in the dms

as i said, since it’s an idea that’s been explored by you, i don’t feel like i get to take full creative license on it which means i can’t really make a one shot or something with it but i appreciate you giving me a little scenario to work with! i’ll give you some headcanons even if my inspo on this idea are scarce

since you two can’t be see together outside of professionalism, sneaking out would be a constant occupation. you meet at a fountain in the middle of the night. you swap stories about your planet’s culture and his wartime regimen. there’s a coastline near your residence, and you venture off to walk alongside the shore hand in hand. he tells you about how he can’t stand to see the king touch you. and you tell him how you can’t stand when the king touches you because it’s simply not anakin.

you hike up the length of your garments and hold your shoes in the same grasp, letting the sand meld between your toes. there’s a tropical forest and a secret clearing within it, that you and anakin lay blankets down so you can lounge.

you play him some instrument of your heritage, he relays the poetry that he writes about you in his brain out of the things he observes during the day. how you are like his sun, warming him until he burns up with desire. your soft plucking falters, chest tightening from his words.

when anakin can’t take it anymore, his thought process becomes all-or-nothing. there’s no use running away from him for any longer, and if you choose your king, anakin will not stand by while you do it. so he invites himself into your chambers. and wakes you up with his metal hand cupping your mouth. when your eyes adjust, he places a single finger over his cushioned lips and you relax for the most part.

he offers no explanation when he kneels at your bedside, wanders his hands underneath the covers, captures your lips. when you gently push him off, he leans into your ear. “him… or me.”

suddenly things are a lot clearer, and you find yourself allowing anakin to have his way with you. until he’s pulled you from the furs to bend you over the edge.

“hush,” he coos in the quietest whisper, tickling your ear as his substantial length is making a mess of your insides, “wouldn’t want to wake your husband up, would we?”

though you’re sure he doesn’t mean that.

#jellydodger #bodyguard!anakin #queen!reader #thanks for the msg!!#au!anakin skywalker #anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker imagine #x gn!reader

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unabashednightmarepizza · 2 years

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𝐻𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑌𝑜𝑢 | Morpheus( Dream) x Goddess!Reader

A/N: Holy smokes guys! I never expected this story to get so much likes and positive feedback, thank you so much! I hot carried away with his chapter but didn't want to make things longer since the real action will start in the next chapter! Thank you so much for your comments and love, and have a good reading!

And in case someone wonders the meaning of the triplets,

Alora means "dream" or "my beautiful dream"

Aksel means "Father of peace"

Amund means "respectful protector"

Series Masterlist

Heimdall had always been a mindful watcher, that was a fact. He had served Odin and Thor and now, he was serving you, never ever leaving his place and always watching.

For a threat, for someone to appear.

There was no need to say who that mysterious person was, the Heart of Asgard and the Queen of 9 Realms has been missing for over a century now.

Now, Heimdall never described himself as an emotional man. He was a warrior, he was the right-hand man of the Queen and he trained the next generation of soldiers but... He was also a simple man, who grew up with his two bestfriends. The friends who got themselves in trouble more than he can count, the friends who were always on the crack-head side, and the only friend he had left...

Y/N...

For a century now, he had watched every universe, listened every mortal for a news from her. Anything to let him know that she was alive. Her people were miserable without her, though there was a Heart of Asgard apart from you, your youngest and only daughter, she was barely able to stay alive without her mother.

Remembering the triplets that were such joys to be around, he smiled softly at what they done earlier that day. The kids, surely taking after their mother, had barged in his tower with many handmade gifts, mostly flowers and put them all around, saying that they were making everything seem more beautiful.

He wouldn't admit having favorites, since he adored three of his nephews and niece, but the youngest one, Alora, the newest Goddess of Dreams and Hope, was the apple of his eyes.

In many ways, she looked like her father, the unfortunate man who has been captured but now were freed, like her two older brothers. Black hair, a pale skin rivaling the whitest marble and the universe for eyes. As soon as she was born, after hours of labour, he knew then and there that she would have people wrapped around her finger with the cute, dimpled smile she gave around herself even when she was just born.

And the sight of three newborns clutching on their mother thightly had made everyone in the room coo with tears in their eyes.

What he never understood was, the reason behind you not wanting him to reach out to Morpheus and tell him about his children. He never understood why you hadn't told him anything before he left, or even later but you only gave a sad smile, not saying anything. Instead, you made him promise something as if you knew what would happen to you.

"Heimdall, you're the only family I've left. When something happens to me, I want you to look after my kids... Could you do this?"

Shaking his head at the memories flooding inside, he could already feel that a certain someone was coming. The thing is, he didn't want to explain everything that happened and possibly anger an Endless who was already angry as it is...

And how could he just casually tell him that he had three kids?

"Hey, you know what? Your wife was pregnant when you had gone to that mission, gave birth a few years later and then disappeared?"

"Uncle Heimdall! Uncle Heimdall! You won't believe what happened!"

Yeah, another thing was, while their sister aged very slowly, the boys Aksel and Amund didn't, looking almost like a 6 year-old. They barged in with toy swords and a flush to their cheeks, a proof of running from the palace to here as the energetic boys they were.

"What did you two do again, hmm? Causing troubles again?"

"Nooo! Why would we ever do that?"

"Yes, uncle! It seemed like you were judging us though..."

Argh, why did you have to give birth to literal copies of Thor and Loki, Y/N?

Whining at Heimdall, who was shaking his head at their cute, yet wrinkly face which was covered with mud, he had taken out a napkin and cleaned their faces while listening their training with one of the soldiers at the palace.

Though it was hard to decipher what they were saying since they were talking so fast, another thing they must have gotten from you, he liked listening to their normal child life while he was stuck here most of the times. And besides, kids always had an ear to hear what was going around.

"And the warriors were so cool! When we grow up, we will be just like them!"

"Yeah, and we will defend our home! Just like mama did!"

Chuckling at their widened eyes with passion, he raised a brow teasingly at them. "And who's going to rule over Asgard? Don't you want to be like your mother?"

Blinking their eyes silently for a few seconds, they immediately gathered together to talk in hushed whispers, not knowing that he can actually hear them.

When they were done, they nodded their heads seriously at each other, as if to show that they agreed on something very important and turned to him with a look that was similar to yours, one that you would always use on him whenever you judged him for not seeing the obvious.

" Of course Alora will be! She is way smarter and calmer than us!"

"Besides, doesn't she always say that she wants to be the Queen after our mama?"

Nodding his head absentmindedly, he sensed someone entering the kingdom through waters, knowing full well who it was. "Aksel, Amund, go to the palace immediately."

Looking confused at the sudden change of mood, two of the triplets wanted to ask what was wrong but seeing the wide and cautious eyes of their uncle, they nodded their heads and ran away hand in hand.

Watching their little backs disappear over the horizon, Heimdall took his sword away and ran outside. While running on the bridge that lead him and whoever came to the grand city, he stopped at where the bridge met with the soil and landed his sword into the ground harshly, creating a gush of wind at the border while a black figure erupted and stood before him over the water.

Look as cold as the weather in Jotunheim, coat flapping around as if it had his own mind, stance stiff and posture tired yet strong and with a screaming heart for one thing, Morpheus stood there and looked down at the friend of his wife, who was possibly the only one who would be able to give him answers.

"Heimdall, Watcher of All... It's been a while..."

"It sure has, Lord Morpheus, King of Dreams and Nightmares...

"Heimdall, what's the meaning of this? I do not have time to waste when my wife needs me."

Not hearing him and what he had to say, Heimdall led him to where the palace was while people were looking up and down at Morpheus, knowing exactly who he was and what he had caused. Not that they knew it was out of his control.

Morpheus always adored your kingdom as much as he loved his, not that he would verbally say it. Many trees and the streets were all eye-catching even from a distance away with their tall and high structures and the high towers that greeted ones that entered and your sculpture that were shown alongside your father and the other kings, while you were the only queen, and he couldn't help but be proud of how far you've come.

Bit whenever he would try to say it, you would give him a thight smile and thank him and he would catch the uncertainty that would twist your beautiful face that he adored looking at.

He knew how hard it was for you to accept affection easily, without any condition, and being helped through hardships when you needed. All as a result of your father constantly pushing you further from your limits and expecting a lot from you.

He frowned when a particular memory had resurfaced, as it seemed it was the only thing it was doing recently, a memory of you two strolling in the gardens in the Dreaming, one that was surrounded with roses, tulips and everything you loved.

It was one memory of you, after recreating your kingdom and how... fragile you looked, one that he didn't want to see ever again.

Not that he was able to.

"Stop spiraling into despair, Lord Morpheus. But everything will be told in due time... First, let me take you to the pala-"

"Heimdall, I asked a question... Where is my wife?" Putting emphasis on "my wife", Morpheus was aware that his patience was running thinner every second that was passing with him not getting to know anything about you. He missed you, more than words would ever be able ro describe. He missed having you between his arms, your arms snaking around his waist and hugging him as strong as he was holding you, calling you with all the affectionate words...

He even missed your habit of putting your cold feet and hands on his chest because you were cold and apparently he was hot for some reasons.

Stopping in his tracks, Heimdall took a deep breath and turned to Dream swiftly with a look that was almost similar to the one he wore, a look of utter despair and pain.

"My Queen Y/N is not here..."

The words did nothing to ease his mind, fear running through his mind and his eyes showing it clearly. For the first time like ever, he felt raw fear, his heart started to beat harder, his coat suddenly being a weight that was suffocating him. With shaky hands, he linked them together behind his back and tried to give a somewhat noncholant answer as if his whole existencd wasn't at the verge of breaking completely.

"What... is that supposed to mean? She will be back though, right?" He couldn't help but let his voice became a whisper at the end, showcasing his true feelings to the man he was so ready to destroy just a few moments ago.

"Do you think Asgard would be like this had she come back?" said Heimdall and showed around themselves, with every living creature slowly loosing their colors and vibrant vibes and how everything seemed... silent, dead even.

Had you fell in the clutches of despair so much that your own kingdom, the apple of your eyes, had became a living grave?

Seeing the glossy look he was giving around, and as much as he was shocked to see that side, Heimdall cleared his throat, knowing full well that this topic needed to be talked so that maybe... There would be a chance of making everything as they were.

"This place, our home... is nothing but a void now. Without her, the Heart of Asgard doesn't shine as brightly as it used to. The only reason people are still hopefull is because of the princess and princes that we adore with all of our hearts."

Kids? When did you have them, but the most important one was with who? Was it that Egyptian Moon God? Or maybe Apollo? Or someone from your nation? And here he thought, expecting for you to wait on him... If it was the old him, he would've destroyed the place until he found who dared to touch what was his but now, he wouldn't blame you, he didn't keep his promise even though it was out of his control. He didn't come back as he promised, but there, in that glass, a day didn't pass without him dreaming of you.

"What princes and princess are you talking about? Had she really have that little love for me that she conceived them after-"

"With all respect, don't talk about her so lowly... But I assume Lucienne had forgot about telling you... Shall we continue with our walk, Your Majesty? So that I can tell you the whole story."

Showing the path to the palace, he really didn't know how fast they've been walking, whether from the stares or the gut feeling of it was something bad, Morpheus nodded his head even though he was starting to get more irritated than ever.

Fortunately seeing this, Heimdall just looked at the palace and thought about the time when it all started... with him gone.

"After you were imprisoned, she chose to stay in the Dreaming, trying to stop it from spiralling into chaos. While there, people started to talk. They implied that you had forsaken her out of selfishness, that you were married with her because you wanted the power she held and wanted to use her title... Said how you'd return back to one of your ex-lovers..."

Hearing all of these, Morpheus was shocked at how your subjects were so disrespectful behind your back. To the one who ensured a safe life for them, and his anger showed in the way of the Asgard shaking slightly.

"How dare they? Do they have no respect to our love, our marriage? How could they tell all of these to her?"

Humming as if he was agreeing him, not caring about the shake, Heimdall looked at him from the corner of his eyes, only to see a dark aura surrounding him with thight jaw and a click of irritation but continued, knowing that things were about to get super bad.

The best way to get to that point was asking him about "the surprise".

" Have you ever wondered what she meant by surprise 100 years ago, my lord? In that glass? I assume you did, since it has-"

"There weren't a day that I hadn't dreamt of my beautiful Queen's smile, her gentle eyes boring into mine..."

Raising a brow questioningly at the way his voice spoke the words so tenderly with a dark yet smooth voice, Heimdall chuckled and Morpheus turned to him harshly which elicited a deep laugh from the man in golden armor.

"Forgive me if I used the wrong words, it's just a rare miracle to see ever the cold and unbothered King of the Dreams so... soft and in love... Anways, even though she didn't show how those words effected her deeply, she was in a fragile state therefore couldn't help but get emotional which shook the palace in more times than I can count. But, me and her servants were with her throughout all of it and in the end, it was worth it... The three miracles were born soon after she returned here after providing balance to the Dreaming."

Morpheus, for the better of his judgement, stomped over the man and pinned him to pillar nearby while holding onto his collar with a grip so strong that it could have breaked the pillar. He was sick of all those secret words, tired of people not telling him everything he needed to know. Every second passing by with him not having you right next to him, meant that he was loosing you more and more.

"Watcher of All, I have a very thin patience, especially after years of staying in the glass. My resistence of revenge thinner, and my want for the woman of my life, even more... All of the universe is lucky enough that I only want my wife back... Before I storm off this place, you'll tell me what happened to her and who those 'so-called miracles' are..."

Wheezing and trying to breathe while tugging him off of himself, Heimdall knew he was telling the truth by how his eyes showed vulnerablity, something so rare yet significant to see on people who are ready to sacrifice everything they had for those they cared about. But the shine inside them was the proof that if he didn't do something about it, he would keep his promise of destroying here...

Yet, for one last time, he looked into the dark lord's eyes, to see any lies within, but saw none. He still had his doubts, he saw how cold and dismissive he was to you. He always tried to warn you, tell you that a husband wouldn't do half of the things he does yet, you always defended him, saying that he was no cruel man and never hurt you physically in which he responded with a " What about emotional?" and your only answer would be the silence which deafened all the things you wanted to say.

Yes, he wasn't cruel but he wasn't loving either and most of the times... You were stuck with stone cold walls and a book open over your lap.

That was the reason he didn't want to talk about the kids, your little ones, for fear that he would destroy their lovely smiles and bubbling joy. It was the reason why he begged Lucienne to not tell him anything but in the end, his obstinacy won the war and he came to look for you.

While you always spent your time, dwelling in sadness that your husband wouldn't come and look for you, because he didn't care, neither would he realize your absence.

Why did he not show the tenderness that was coating his eyes now, to you?

" For someone so unbothered, you seem to care about her? Too bad, you didn't show it to her..." Heimdall couldn't help but utter in disgust, shaking him off of himself while Morpheus stood there shocked, yet angry at how the man talked back to him with disgust. As if he had the power to stand against him.

" Before you talk to me like that ever again, consider our positions... I'm Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmare-"

"And above all, you were a husband! A husband that didn't provide love and safety she was supposed to have... Tell me, Morpheus, why would I care what happens to me when I have no one left except-"

And in the midst of their verbal fight, they failed to realize that a little girl with jet black hair, ocean-blue eyes and a scared look on her little face who was holding a book thightly between little arms turned over the corner and saw them nose to nose.

"Uncle Heimdall... Who is this? Why are you yelling?"

And with just 3 seconds, 3 seconds that was enough to hate, fall in love, loose everything and get his whole world together... Morpheus stood in front of the little girl with a shocked face, tears strimming down in silver lines at finally understanding what had happened to you and could no longer stand up, finally kneeling on the ground while holding his chest thightly.

Ever since he was free, he sensed- no, knew- that there was someone who needed him. Someone who was weak yet strong enough to fight. And he always thought it was his love, calling out to him, begging him, her sould molding into his...

He knew even before asking Hecate that he had to come here since something was calling him. It was feeling like no other, one that drove men mad, caused the wars between humans and even deities. A feeling where he felt the strongest, and would do anything to get them safety...

Now, he understood. He understood the amount of passionate feelings he had ever since he stepped foot in the waters of Asgard. A silent, unconditional love that coursed through him and engulfed everything he had and even more.

For the little girl that resembled the woman he loved more than anything was standing there with wide, blue eyes... A little girl who was able to bring the Endless to his knees with every little piece she had of him and her mother.

"Alora, stay away from him. Please go to the palace, back to your brothers..."

Squeezing her little yet sharp eyes at the man in black, she tugged at her book closely to her chest and huffed out in irritation with a twitch of her nose. Just like you, my love... Just as brave and straightworward...

"Why are you yelling at him? Had no one teach you it's bad?"

Just as fierce and beautiful...

"Princess Alora, please.... That man is-"

My beautiful dream, the one who painted my darkest nightmaeres into beautiful dreams...

"I know he's my father, uncle Heimdall... I heard his voice countles of times when I was still in my momma."

Sitting on a lone park, with nothing except the silence of the night around, you were sitting down with your hands clasped together. The chilly air, alongside the scents the flowers emitted, you were peaceful- at least, as much as you could-.

With no one around, no one consisted of Corinthian, Ethel and John, you were finally able to be alone with your thoughts to come with a plan about what you needed to do. In order to get rid of Dream, and well potentially shake the balance of all the universe for a few seconds, the one inside your body had already make enough sacrifices...

Such as capturing you, and ensuring that you wouldn't get out easily by giving your consciousness to none other than John.

With most of the other Gods, their power was linked with their bodies and not their soul, conscious. It was easy to take them, or control them however you wanted to but when you were born, it wasn't the case. The healers told your parents, Odin and Frigga, that you were more powerful than any gods combined, that your soul was the source of your powers. They rejoiced in the beginning, only to be given the bad omens...

" What Heraclitus said was true for you, sister. And it was what brought you to your doom... The world exists a coherent system in which a change in one direction is ultimately balanced by a corresponding change in another... If only you weren't weak, maybe then you would have defeated me..."

It wasn't that Hod, your brother that was currently possessing you, didn't know that you would have even destroyed him completely, erased him out of existence. He was aware the immense power you held, and how those powers evolved into something more inside your children. They were of an Endless and an Asgardian God after all, and one might think that he would go after them too but he couldn't, wouldn't do that.

He didn't even want to cast you away from your body, but he had to so that you'd have a chance at living.

"Forgive me sister... I was once weak, and I won't be again. And I will not loose you either..."

Wiping a stray tear that escaped from his eyes, he gulped down and held his head up. Guilt was eating him alive, for what he had to do but he wasn't going to let anything stop him...

Not even that irritating crow that was standing in front of him.

"The fuck are you staring at? Shoo, come on, go away!"

Kicking it and even shooing it away with his hands, the crow was persistent. Lucienne had sent him to find Morpheus but upon travelling all around the Waking World, Matthew wasn't able to find who he was looking for.

Instead, he found the one thing everyone has been searching for.

"Your Majesty, my Lady Y/N! You're alive!"

"Stop calling me with that name, stupid bird! I'm not her-and did you just fucking talk?!"

"What do you mean, you are exactly her! And my lady, you know that the ravens of Morpheus can talk and communicate!"

Oh shit, does that mean he's somewhere here? But I haven't finished my plans yet!

Hastily getting up, you dugged your hands deeper into the coat you were wearing, not caring about the crow that was cawing at you. You couldn't let anyone recognize you and ruin your plans so, with a wave of hand, you disappeared without much of a track.

But not without Corinthian reaching out to you with that voice you wanted to rip out so badly.

I have found them, my lady...

But what you didn't realize was your plans were already ruined, by a 280 year old woman who was calling to the only person she knew who could help.

The successor of the only man being able to stand against you...

Johanna Constantine.

Meanwhile in the mighty Asgardian Garden, a certain male was having a breakdown in front of the man who he was ready to have a fight and a little girl, who shook his heart to the core with her big and full of life eyes.

Yet, her eyes were full of knowledge for someone who was 100 at most. The sharp and careful eyes she was giving him reminded of a cautious little pup, waiting for the opposite side to attack...

Which hurted more than he could imagine.

Even though he never said it, there were times he imagined he had a child with you. A daughter, that looked like him but was more like you personality wise. A little funny and energetic kid, running through his kingdom or your gardens while you and him were holding hands just a few meters behind her, sharing loving looks and nuzzling to each other, you putting your face at the crook of his neck...

But now, seeing the cold look, he knew that all of those pastel dreams are far, far away from his reach.

"How... When... When did she-"

"Get pregnant? I thought you would be smarter, my lord. The surprise she wanted to make was this... She wanted to give you the news of her pregnancy..."

With that, Morpheus looked at Heimdall who were looking down at the father-daughter duo with a solemn look and that was enough to make the Dream Lord choke on his sobs and grip his chest thighter, with tears running down his face gradually. He was grief-striken, his heart and soul was in deep agony at the fact that he left you all alone while you were pregnant, in need of care and help. If only he had looked a bit more deeply in your eyes, maybe he would have been able to see the truth there. So that you wouldn't have to face all the hardships alone, while he sat there doing nothing because of his pride...

But now, he understood everything better... What was the point of that much pride while you gave him everything he could ever ask for? Unconditional love, loyalty and children he was proud to have.

How many nights had you spent crying because of the pain your body was going through? Or how many times you had to heal your own heart so that you could have your children between your arms?

Alora, on the other hand, was wary of him. Her brothers may not have remember much, but she did. She knew her mother cried because of him a lot, muttered how she didn't worth anything in his eyes... But she also felt the love they both shared, even for a little girl, emotions were complicated.

But she didn't want to be so cold to him. She could sense whether someone was lying or not and seeing him with red eyes and tears on his cheeks, how his eyes showed every single regret and despair he had in his soul proved that he was way different than from her mother's memory. She expected someone cold, someone evil but seeing a very tall man cry in front of her, something her nanny said was the sign of sincere love, she realized that she shouldn't be so harsh and that whatever happened, he was still her father...

Besides he was so sad, and her momma always said that a little gift would make someone's day beyond our expectations.

At first, when he tried to take a step to her, she took one back which was like a stab straight to Morpheus' heart. He finally had a chance again with his kids but seeing the one he imagined to have be scared of him...

No father should feel that pain.

Feeling bad for what she had done, she took the book to her other arm and toddled up to him. Holding the damp cheek of her father with her much smaller hands, while her blue dress which was a different choice than the rest of the people who only wore golden and white,was making her seem even tinier, Morpheus smiled sadly and held hers between his hands thightly, but not enough to hurt her and two oceans met with each other.

One with the innocence and wonder of childhood, one with the despair and regrets of an eternal life.

Even if she looks cold, she is soft... Much like us...

"I'm sorry for the way I acted... Do you forgive me?"

Her little voice said shyly at him, with a cute flush to her plump cheeks and he couldn't help but choke on his chuckle with a smile at the way she changed her behaviour towards him, becoming like a little kitten trying to win their owner's heart.

"There is nothing to forgive, my beautiful dream... You deserve to feel like that to me-"

"No! Momma said we shouldn't judge people easily! Though I'm angry for you not coming earlier and make us cry, 's fine now!" She said with a beaming smile, which made Morpheus widen his eyes at how easy it was for her to be so bubbly and forgiving with someone she had just met, even if it was her father.

Heimdall was shocked yet pleased as well, seeing how they already started to bond over things they liked. Apparently, a bond between fathers and daughters were stronger than he thought.

Morpheus was, on the other hand overjoyed at the fact that Alora had come to him willingly and was now slowly warming up at the possibility of seeing him more. Her giggles were healing his cold and unmerciful heart surely and slowly and the only thing missing was meeting with his boys, who Alora adored and talked so fondly, and lastly... You.

Before he could have turned to Heimdall who were watching them, who also thought that maybe allowing the Dream Lord in Asgard was actually a good idea since the place had become shinier, Matthew suddenly burst in Asgard, without Heimdall even knowing and perched himself over Morpheus' shoulder who was holding the girl, who shrieked when she saw the bird suddenly, with a supporting hand behind her little back.

And what he had said made him almost drop his daughter in shock, which also was a sign for him to quicken his pace.

"Boss, my lady Y/N is alive but... She isn't herself anymore!"

"Excuse me for questioning you but... What are you exactly going to do with them? I thought you hated humans?"

"Oh I do, but... These are not just normal humans, Corinthian~"

Looking at you with fear and shock, the man with long hair struggled against his biddings and got his mouth out of the cloth that was stuck in his mouth. To be honest, seeing the woman who was his best friend after all those years trying to kill him wasn't what he thought their meeting would be like.

"Y/N? What... What are you doing? Why did you kidnap us- She's literally a kid!"

"I'm not her... And we both now you two aren't normal. Now be a good boy, and shut up~" you said with a sultry voice while playing with Hob's hair while looking at the girl beside him with a wolfish grin.

"They are no ordinary humans... For one is immortal and the other is the salvation of my sister, the one human she was tasked with protecting..."

Taglist: @buckys-pillow @diksy1112 @slut4fictionalcharacters28 @daydreamin1220 @justmasblack @mata0-0mata @poemfreak306 @lyria-skyfall @jesllianaquilesrolon @bucky-thorin-winchester @rosewine-5 @zemotr4sh @munsonmunster @mxacegrey @elraeeee @itshamleth @sailorbananabee14 @lu123sworld @jupiterclipse @intothesoul @lovesickollie @winxchesters @auroraravenclaw1927 @iwantagoodstorytoread

#sandman imagines #the sandman series #netflix sandman #sandman x reader #the sandman #morpheus imagines #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless #asgardian!reader #queen!reader #tom sturridge

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prettyouttherethoughts · 1 year

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Dream x Queen/wife!Reader

This is rough. Like really rough. I just had an idea and I didn’t want to focus on making it perfect because I’ll end up not writing it. I haven’t written anything in 6 years. and i wrote it in like 20 mins so I don’t lose it. So I give you this very rough blurb. Be kind 🥺😊

ps: I made little edits to at least make it look like the kind of fics I read here 😅.

Dream and reader had a fight about an issue in the dreaming. both refuse to back down. they haven’t talked in a week. the queen came into the library where dream was meeting with lucienne about said issue

“i request an audience with Lord Morpheus” the person in question looked up, visibly surprised by this request, when his queen added, “privately”

“very well, lucienne i trust you have everything handled?” to which the librarian nodded

(y/n) walked silently, a few steps ahead of the Dream Lord to her own reading room in the library. She continued walking to the center of the room and waited for Morpheus close the door behind him before she turned around. She stood tall and looked her husband in the eye.

“May I talk to my husband?”

“I don’t und-“

“Not the King of Dreams, not the ruler of this realm. Just my husband. May I have him for a minute?”

In truth, Morpheus didn’t fully understand his wife’s plea because “he is the dreaming. blah blah blah”. Though he chose to humor his wife.

“I see. then What do you need from me my wife?”

what happened next shook Morpheus as he could see his wife’s face as she dropped her walls and headed towards him. He was pushed backward slightly as his wife enveloped him in a hug.

“I missed you” she said and held on to him tighter as she felt him wrap one arm around her and his other hand on the nape of her neck.

And they just stood there. Truthfully, one minute had already gone but both of them stayed this way. Before (y/n) started to pull away

“I believe the minute is do-“ she was pulled back into the hug

“one minute more” she hears her husband say and so she grants him one minute more.

#unedited #thisisthefirstthingivewrittensinceIwas #writingLOTRfanfictioninhighschool #imfeelingprettyemotionaltbh #dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #wife!reader #queen!reader

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rec-review8890 · 2 years

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JK | Royalty!au RECs

(💦) ~ Smut , (🐑) ~ Fluff , (👊) ~ Angst ,

(📝) ~ Series , (🗒) ~ One-Shot/Dribble ,

(💜) ~ Personal Favorite

Request Guidelines | Fic Rec ML

NONE of these works are mine. Give all your love to the authors and their works. The links will either bring you to the Tumblr page or a Ao3 page of the work.

Title: The Dark Prince 💦🐑👊📝💜

Author: @jkeuphoriadreamland

Summary: 8 parts + epilogue, and completed. Prince!jk x Care giver!reader. Also supernatural and virgin jk!au.

↳ “His family name cursed, Jungkook is doomed to live his life in the furthest tower of the castle, alone and abandoned. You are charged with serving his highness with any need he may have, no matter the demand.”

Title: Prima Nocta 💦🗒

Author: @yoon2k

Summary: King!jk x reader. Also virgin reader!au. The ending made me want to punch a wall, but it’s a good story overall.

↳ “It was a tradition that had started with his father as a way to consolidate his power deemed jus primae noctis: the right of the first night. The lords would watch him claim the woman they would spend the rest of their lives with physically, and their pride would fall at his feet.”

Title: Caged Bird 💦🗒

Author: @borathae

Summary: Bandit!jk x Queen!reader. Also enemies-to-lovers!au.

↳ “Jungkook was sent by the Ravens of the Black Forest to kill the Queen of the Night Queendom. He hadn’t expected to find love when he climbed the high walls of the Queen’s castle and pressed a sharp blade against her throat.”

Title: Royal Guard 💦🐑👊📝

Author: @beautifulplaceofyouth

Summary: On going. Royal guard!jk x Princess!reader. Also fallen angel and virgin reader!au.

↳ “When you keep bumping into your personal royal guard by accident not knowing he is your guardian angel.”

Title: You Are My Crown 💦👊🗒

Author: @redsaurrce

Summary: Also yandere!au. King!jk x servant!reader.

↳ “He doesn't want anybody but you.”

#royalty!au #king!jk #king!jungkook #prince!jk #prince!jungkook #jungkook x reader #servent!reader #queen!reader #princess!reader #royalty jungkook x reader #king!jungkook x reader #jungkook x queen!reader #bts #fic recs #bts rec #royalty

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vendettaparker · 2 years

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Bound to You: Chapter Fourteen—Listen Before I Go

“If you need me Wanna see me Better hurry 'Cause I'm leaving soon” —Billie Eilish

Summary: With Ida’s life on the line, (Y/N) is finally forced to come face to face with the demon in her court. The resulting battle is calamitous.

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: ANGST, SMUT, major character death, mention/hint of sexual assault, hostage situation, typos, depictions of grief

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You had the letter crumbled in your hands now as Tom spoke, trying to explain what his plan was and how this had happened, but all you could hear was the blood rushing through your ears. All of his words turned to lies, all of his explanations turned to mere stories in your mind. You couldn’t be bothered to even listen to him; it wasn’t like he had listened to you.

All you could feel was anger. Complete and utter outrage. You could feel your own face heat up as if it was being held beneath the sun.

“(Y/N), please don’t cry,” Tom tried to soothe you, but Dahlia was already asleep in his arms.

Seeing the tears silently fall down your hot cheeks was killing him.

“I can—will fix this, m’love,” Tom said gently.

“How did he even get her?” You asked sharply, “She was with Dahlia all day.”

Tom’s frown deepened, “My mother said she saw her last when she went to the nursery to see Dahlia. She said she left the room and never came back.”

“Take Dahlia to your mother,” you told Tom, “you and I need to talk about this and I have a feeling that this won’t be an easy conversation.”

Tom looked down at the sleeping baby in his arms. He was hesitant to leave you here, worried that he’d come back and you’d already be gone. But he also knew that Dahlia was just a baby. She was too innocent to be privy to the conversation you and Tom likely would soon have. The venom you would spit was too harsh for her delicate ears.

“Okay,” Tom nodded, “but please, don’t leave this room. Wait for me, (Y/N).” You didn’t even look up at him. Tears blurred your vision as your hands played with the ruined parchment in them. It was all you could do to keep them from shaking.

Tom came back within minutes. He raced back to your room the minute his mother had Dahlia in her arms. He found you rummaging through his trunk of clothes, pulling out trousers and a white linen shirt one he would usually sleep in. No way would you be able to face Hawthorne in this god-forsaken corset.

“I have to go after her,” you stated, once you heard the door shut behind him, “I brought her here, now I have to save her.”

“No, (Y/N),” Tom protested, “you don’t have to do this alone.”

“I do,” you insisted, “he said to come alone. He’ll kill her, Tom,” you looked over at your husband with fresh tears glistening in your eyes, “you know that he will.”

“Tell me where to find him, I’ll send Ivy and her guards there—”

“No,” you shook your head, “you know I can’t do that. I can’t risk that—”

“But you’ll risk your life for this?!” Tom snapped, “Our entire future? You’d hand that over to him?”

“I have to do this,” you said quietly, “it’s not just about us, Tom. Ida deserves a future too.”

“You’re not listening to me!” Tom yelled.

“And you’re not listening to me!” You yelled back, “You haven’t been for a very long time, Thomas! That’s why we’re in this mess!”

Tom squared his jaw and ran his hand over his face. He turned away from you and shook his head. He knew you were right. His failure to listen to what you had planned for your future is what brought Hawthorne to England. He was an easy target. He should have to pay this price, not you.

“Tell me what to do,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“Tell me what I have to do to make you stay,” Tom turned back to you, tears running down his cheeks, “because I’d do anything, (Y/N).”

“Tom,” you set the clothes on the floor and walked over to him, “there’s nothing you can do,” you placed your hands on his cheeks and felt the wetness of his tears on your palms and between your fingers, “and that’s okay.”

This is exactly what he wanted to avoid. You sacrificing yourself over his mistakes. You paying the price for his incompetence. If anything happened to you, he'd never be the same. He knew that when he first fell in love with you. He could remember vividly thinking, if I fall for her, I’ll never be the same. Nothing will be as it was. And he was back then he was okay with that because he knew things would be better. Now, he could not hold the same optimism or sentiment for the path his story was taking.

“(Y/N),” Tom wrapped his hands around your wrists, “you can’t take the money from the treasury. At least, not now. It would take days to get those funds. We may never even get them. Ida is just a chambermaid, the lords will likely not be willing the spare the expense. How are you going to do this alone?” You looked up at Tom and the look in your eyes said it all. “No,” Tom’s face fell deeper into sorrow and fear, “you can’t go, (Y/N).”

“I have to,” you whispered, “when you go to the council and tell them he’s taken me rather than just some maid, they’ll be much more willing to give you the money. We just have to hope time is a luxury Hawthorne will grant us.”

“What if he doesn’t,” Tom snapped, “what if he takes you from me?”

“Then you prepare for that,” you ran your thumb over his cheek to catch the new rush of tears that were coming, “and you tell Dahlia that I love her. You tell her every day—”

“No,” Tom pulled his head away, “I won’t. You’ll tell her yourself because you aren’t going.”

“Tom, I have to. This is my duty, my responsibility—”

“Since when have you ever cared about those things?” Tom cried, “You never once cared about those in the past. Stop caring about them now and get back into that damn bed with me!”

“You know I can’t just let this go,” you said quietly, trying to keep your own voice calm for the sake of your husband, crying in your arms, “if this were you, and it was Harrison or one of your brothers who had been taken, you wouldn’t hesitate—”

“You’re right,” Tom agreed, “I wouldn’t. But you would stop me. You would keep me safe and try to keep our future alive. That’s all I’m trying to do, (Y/N). That’s all I want.”

You looked at Tom sympathetically, “That’s all I want to,” you sniffled, “but I can’t build this future on Ida’s death. I can’t possibly think of our future when her life is on the line.”

Tom nodded but the tears in his eyes didn’t cease.

He let go of your wrists and quickly wrapped his arms around you. He rested his head atop of yours and didn’t speak as you both swayed.

“Just give me some time,” he whispered, “let me try to fix this. I can’t lose you. I just—I need time to think and plan—”

His plea was so raw and torn. There was nothing else he could say or do other than beg for you to stay by his side. He felt hopeless and broken. Part of him wished he never showed you the letter, but deep down he knew it would have been worse to keep it from you and attempt to solve it himself. If Ida had died without you knowing she was even gone, you would’ve never forgiven him.

You needed to trust him. This was the final test of your love and trust in him.

“Tom…” you pulled away, “we don’t have the time now. Our time is up.”

You turned to walk away, back to the task at hand: getting his clothes, changing, and then saving Ida.

Tom wrapped his arms around you from behind. He moved your hair from your neck, exposing it to himself. He pressed kisses to your soft skin, a selfish attempt to break your resolve.

“Please, m’love,” Tom sniffled in between kisses, “we have a future. I need that future.”

He began to nip and suck at your skin as he spoke, “There’s a summer palace in Italy we can run off to. For a few months, it can be just us and Dahlia. We can have more children. We can have dozens. I want more children, (Y/N). I want it all with you. I want to give you the world.”

His hands found the ties of your corset and began to undo them, “I want to grow old with you.”

“Tom,” you turned around and placed yours over his, stopping him, “we can’t.”

“Please,” Tom’s eyes were red and his cheeks were wet with tears, “please tell me you love me.”

“I do love you,” you assured him, “more than I’ve ever loved anyone.” You pressed a kiss to his lips, savoring the taste of him, relishing in the fit of his lips against yours, before pulling away. “But I won’t choose you over saving someone who also means so much to me. She’s in danger because of me, Tom. I brought her here—”

“No, she’s in danger because of me. I did this, let me fix it.”

You held Tom’s face in your hands, “you have to let me go.”

“Please don’t make me,” Tom cried, a new batch of tears falling from his eyes at your words, “please, please…”

You quieted him with your lips on his once more. You kissed him hard as tears gathered in your own eyes. You hated seeing him cry and you hated even more that you were the reason for his tears. Tom didn’t hesitate to kiss you back fiercely. He tangled his hand in your hair and used his other to finish loosening the corset he’d set to work on earlier.

His mouth was hot against your skin as he moved from your lips to your jaw, and then down your neck. And the moment your corset was loose and undone, he moved to the tops of your breasts.

“Tom,” you sighed, running your fingers through his hair as he pushed your dress down your body.

He couldn’t stop. He was a man on a mission and his mission was to remind you of the love and passion the two of you share—the reason he could never let you go.

He removed his lips from your skin only to remove his own jacket and shirt. Once those were gone and his chest was bare, much like your own, he pressed himself to you again, to feel you close to him. He could feel all the blood rushing south. Just the thought of feeling you again after so long was making his head spin.

He undid his belt and let it fall to the floor along with his sword and with that he shoved his pants down as well, freeing himself.

He pushed you down onto the bed and fell atop of you, kissing his way down your body until he was placed between your legs.

“I’ve missed this,” he sighed, breathless from merely the look of your weeping heat, “I’ve missed having you like this.”

“I’ve missed it too,” you breathed out as Tom began licking your pulsing bud, tasting your sweet juices. He moaned into you as your closed your legs around his head. It’d been so long and you were so sensitive.

Before he could really even get into it, you flipped yourself over into a position where you were straddling his chest. Tom chuckled at your change of dominance.

“I want you like this,” you said gently, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Whatever you want,” Tom hummed, rutting into you with his length against your leg, “as long as you stay.”

You worked your way down his body, licking and kissing each divet in his sculpted torso. You did love him, more than anything, and you want him to feel that love. You wanted him to feel worshipped.

You slithered down until your knees hit the floor and you were between his legs, length in your hand. You pumped him with one hand, tearing soft grunts from his lips. He bit his thin lips in an attempt to keep the noises in as to not disturb the baby sleeping soundly on the other side of the bed.

Tom’s eyes were shut and his face was scrunched in a beautiful scowl and his eyebrows furrowed with pleasure. You bent down and enveloped his head into your hot mouth, making him hiss.

“(Y/N),” he moaned, abs clenching as you sucked him in. He ran his hands through your hand, holding you to him. You released him and rose to the bed, straddling his thighs, keeping his cock in your hand.

“I love you,” you peered down at him through hooded eyes as you sunk onto him, drawing his length in your wetness. Tom grunted and placed his hands on your hips, giving him a squeeze.

“I love you more,” he sighed, sitting up to capture your lips as he began thrusting into you from below.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Tom slept peacefully with you in his arms. He always slept better with you around. These past few months had been filled with sleepless nights and dreamless slumbers, so to have to wrapped in his arms after having you in a way he hadn’t in so long, sleep came naturally.

But you didn’t sleep.

Instead, you savored these moments in his arms as though they would be your last. You pressed kisses to his hand, one for each knuckle, before moving to his face. You counted his freckles like you so frequently used to do. You missed that—the counting of the stars upon his face. How could you have taken such scattered beauty for granted?

You pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, just below his eye. His eyes fluttered behind the lids, but he remained asleep, just as you needed him.

The sad thing was that you did want to stay with him. You could feel your heart clench looking at how small he was. Hearing his pleas for you to stay nearly broke your resolve. And now, laying on the bed, vulnerable and at peace, he looked like a child that you were abandoning.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “Forgive me, my love.”

You got out of bed and replaced where you were with a pillow for Tom to hold. You were dressed in his clothes; a white shirt and trousers. Something simple and easy to move in.

You had a plan of your own. Reckless as only you knew to be.

Looking back at Tom, you knew what you were doing would hurt him. There was great potential for loss here. But the risk was one you had to take—a sacrifice you were willing to make for Ida. Furthermore, it wasn’t solely for Ida—it was for yourself as well. You had a demon you needed to face. It was time to stop hiding away.

Looking at Tom made your heartache, knowing that this battle with the demon in your court may not end well, knowing that you might leave him, the one thing he begged you not to do. Tears sprouted in your eyes as you sighed out a shaky breath. You walked over to him one last time and pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the warmth and the gentle thumps of his beating heart. You pulled your hand away and wiped your tears. Now was not the time for them, now was time for you to be strong.

You went to your desk and pulled a piece of parchment out and began writing.

Tom,

I’m sorry I left. I hope you know how much it pained me to do so. I pray that we will see each other again when this is all over. I pray that the future you envision for us comes to pass. I pray for that as I write this, and I shall pray for it as I make my way to Hawthorne.

If we never see each other again, just know that I have only one regret in this life, and that is not loving you sooner. I feel as though I wasted precious moments I could have spent loving you, hating you. In our next life, I promise not to make the same mistake.

With that same thought in mind, you must tell Dahlia every day how much I loved her. Make sure she can feel my love.

Hawthorne will be at Arthur’s grave. It’s his last cruel jest towards me. Meet us there with the gold if you should get it.

With all my love,

(Y/N)

You left the room quickly, in fear that staying any longer would keep you from the task at hand.

“Your grace,” A guard stationed outside of your door stopped you immediately. He noticed the clothes you wore and the sword in your belt and a worried look formed in his eyes, “you can’t leave this room unaccompanied, I have direct orders from the king—”

“That’s ridiculous” you cut him off, “I shall traverse in my own home on my own terms.”

“I must insist,” he grabbed your arm.

“Unhand me,” you pulled away harshly, “before I take that hand from you as well as your titles. Who do you take orders from?”

“The king, your grace.”

“No,” you shook your head, “you take them from me, your queen. Now, you will stay stationed at this door and you will let me go in peace. Is that clear?”

The guard hesitated, but your unwavering stare and self-assuredness convinced him to concede, “exceedingly, your grace.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Your grace,” the guard at the door of Nikki’s chambers shrouded worry as he took in your appearance. The outfit accompanied by a sword at your side, “you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. Where is his grace, King Thomas?”

Not again, you thought. Though, you had to commend your guards for being so painstakingly cautious and aware of what they were doing, even if it made your tasks harder.

“Asleep in our chambers,” you said curtly, “I‘ve just come to see my daughter.”

“Alone? You should have accompaniment. Where’s your chambermaid?”

“I don’t need accompaniment,” you said simply, brushing past him and opening the door for yourself.

Nikki was sitting by the fire with Dahlia in her arms, peacefully sleeping. She herself looked worn from the day’s stresses as her eyes drooped.

“Nikki,” you whispered to her.

She turned and furrowed her brows before registering who had spoken her name, she smiled as your face came into focus in her vision.

“(Y/N)?” she whispered back, “what are you doing here? And dressed like that…?” she trailed off as she studied your attire.

“I just wanted to see you,” you said quietly, “and her.”

Nikki handed you Dahlia as you took a seat on the cushy chair beside her, “She’s precious,” she smiled softly at you, “you’ve got a perfect angel there. If only I had been so lucky.”

“Lucky?” you chuckled, “You had four strong-headed boys, if only I should be so lucky. I love my daughter more than life itself, but Tom is right, we should try for more. There is security in numbers.”

“Boys are trouble,’ Nikki sighed, “though, I’m sure you’d have no trouble at all,” she smiled warmly at you, “you always handled my boys with such…passion.”

You smiled back, “You mean aggression?”

“Whatever you did, it got the job done,” Nikki chuckled, “especially now, in such times of sorrow and suffering. My boys look to you for comfort, but also they look after you. You did something to all of them—it’s something you seem to do to all the people you meet; you make them care. You ignite passion and fire—the same you have on your own, you share it, and spread it. You’ll be the best queen there ever was, (Y/N),” Nikki reached for your hand, “I know it.”

“Nikki,” you said softly, eyes sparkling at her words, “I’m nothing special—”

“You are to me, and to my boys, and to your girl there, though she might not know it yet,” Nikki smiled down at the baby in your arms, “and that just covers my world, so imagine how special you are to all the people in yours.”

ou let out a sigh as you rocked Dahlia in your lap, “You’ll always be there for her though, won’t you? To watch over her and make sure she grows up to be a good ruler.”

“Of course,” Nikki said slowly, “but you’ll be there for her too. There’s nothing that can replace the love of a mother.”

“You could,” you looked up at Nikki, “your love was better than my mother’s ever was. I wish you were my mother.”

Nikki cooed and stood up. She hugged your head to her chest and stroked your hair, “I am your mother,” she smiled, “and I love you very much.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You left Nikki’s chambers close to tears, knowing that there was a chance you’d be leaving your daughter behind. Nikki was right, nothing would be able to replace you in her eyes, and perhaps it was selfish of you to deny her a chance at your love.

But Ida needed you and Hawthorne needed to be dealt with. You were done hiding in your chambers like you had for the majority of his stay in England. You were ready to face him and whatever evil was behind that man. And if tonight would be your last, then you’d be sure to drag him to hell with you.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Ida was just waking up, a bruise over her cheek and an ache in her jaw to truly set the tone of the trouble she had found herself in. Hawthorne was pacing around, reciting the prayers of the lord he could remember to himself.

Ida was bound and tied to a tree. Her immediate struggle clued Hawthorne in on her consciousness, prompting him to come towards her.

“Do not be frightened, little one,” he said quietly, “this is not your fight,” he shined his lantern in her face and held up a piece of bread, bringing it close to her lips.

Ida spat at him, “you snake! You filthy, dirty, snake! They’ll have your head for this!”

“Hm,” Hawthorne hummed, “you are much like (Y/N). It’s as though her own personality has rubbed off on you. You two must be close. That is good, that means my assessment is correct. So fear not, wench. Help will be arriving soon.”

“No,” Ida shook her head, “They won’t come for me. No matter what it is you asked of them, I am not worth the risk. You'll be dead by daybreak, as you should be,” Ida sneered.

“For someone so close to (Y/N), you seem to know nothing of her loyalty,” Hawthorne scoffed, forcefully showing the bread into Ida’s mouth, muffling her insults and screams, “Yes,” he said as he rose again and looked out towards the castle, where you’d be coming from, “even for a poor wench like you, she is loyal. A terrible flaw; her Achilles heel.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

It was sick of him to hold Ida captive at the graves of those you’ve lost. Past the large oak tree on the hill, through the field, and on the other side, where you laid to rest your loved ones. It was sadistic. That’s how you knew he’d be there. He wanted to remind you what he was capable of as he held Ida captive over Arthur’s grave.

At the top of the hill, you could see him down there. He even had the nerve to wave at you. A friendly wave, beckoning you towards him.

“Here she comes,” he smiled sinisterly, “our little queen.”

Ida wept when she saw you making your way towards the two of them. She wanted to scream at you to run back the other way, to leave her. To forget about her altogether and live your life.

Hawthorne had untied her from the tree the moment he saw the light of your candle. He wrapped cloth over her lips to silence her cries before kneeling her in front of him, sword to her neck.

“Your grace,” he proclaimed when you had made it within earshot, but it was mocking. It was a joke to him, the fact that you held such a title, “I see you’ve found us. My note made it to you alright I presume?”

“I don’t have your gold, Hawthorne,” you stated, “I’ve only brought myself.”

“That’s a shame then,” Hawthorne pressed the sword closer to Ida’s neck, causing her muffled cries to a crescendo. You could see the tears streaming down her cheeks glistening in the light of the lantern.

“Stop,” you held your hand up, “please, I’ve come with a better offer.”

“Speak then, before I grow tired of this distraction.”

“For a man who claims to be a king, you clearly know very little about finances in the court,” you spat, “I would never be able to receive enough money from the treasury to satisfy you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I wouldn’t be able to get the funds to spare her life,” you looked down at Ida, “but she can go back to Tom and get the funds to spare mine. It’s a simple trade.”

“How do I know this isn't a trick?” Hawthorne accuses, yanking Ida’s hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck more to the blade. She yelped beneath the cloth over her lips, silencing her, “You’re a venomous snake, I hear.”

“If you don’t get the money, I die,” you explain, “you can finally rid yourself of me. Just let her go because you know deep down that this vendetta is ours, and only ours. And this is the only reasonable way you’ll get what you want.”

“You’re a real bargainer, aren’t you?” Hawthorne clicked his tongue, “I could almost say I’m proud of you. Now get on your knees.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Help me! Help me, please!” Ida’s lungs were burning when she finally made it inside the castle. The edges of her dress were muddy and ruined and her face was red. Her eyes were puffy and her throat her as she screamed for help.

Guards rushed to her side, one holding her up and she nearly collapsed in his arms, “M’lady,” he looked down at her, “what’s wrong.”

“He has her,” Ida cried, “Hawthorne has her grace, (Y/N).”

The three guards looked at each other, all silently knowing the direness of the situation.

“Come,” the one that held Ida’s arms said, “we must tell the king.”

The four of them raced off to Tom’s chambers.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“None of you stopped her?!” Tom yelled at his guards. He was livid when he heard that you had gotten away, slipping past all of them so effortlessly. Though it wasn’t just anger, it was fear. He could feel it in his gut. He had a lump of dread lodged there—if he were any weaker of a man it would have incapacitated him.

“She’s our queen, your grace,” the guard stationed outside yoru chambers tried to defend himself, “I follow her orders as well—”

“No,” Tom snapped, “you follow my orders. Mine alone! She’s gone now because of you!”

“Your grace,” Ida spoke up, “please, this isn’t solving anything. We must gather the council and get the money from the treasury. Hawthorne won’t wait past dawn.”

Tom took a deep breath and motioned to the door, “Go then, all of you. Gather the lords and my brothers and have them meet me in the great hall.”

They all left quickly, leaving Tom in his chambers by himself.

For a moment, he didn’t have to hold it in anymore. The second the door closed behind Ida, he could feel the dam behind his eyes break. He fell backward onto the bed with a sob, muffling it in his hands. He held his hands over his face as he cried, pushing the palms of his hands into his eyes, grounding himself with the pressure.

He hiccuped a few more cries and he wiped his eyes. His breathing was uneven as he rose from the bed and began getting dressed. And on his way to the trunk of his clothes is where is found your note, sitting neatly on your desk.

He picked it up, his wet hands smudging the ink of your name as he read it. As he read, more tears fell onto the parchment, staining it with his sorrow.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Why are you doing this?” you asked before Hawthorne could put the cloth over your lips.

“You know why,” he said simply, “I have to get out of this country—”

“No,” you shook your head, “why do any of it? Why did you kill my father? He was a good man, he was good to you. I thought you cared for us.”

Hawthorne placed the cloth over your lips and tied it tightly, causing you to whimper. He almost looked regretful to see what this had all simmered down to, but then he smiled, and the demon was back.

“You know nothing, little princess,” he dragged your body towards his and held you close, “I would think you of all people would understand that if you want something, then you should just take it.”

You squirmed in his grasp as he sat and moved you to sit in his lap. Panic filled your eyes at his advances.

“Shhh, don’t worry,” he snickered, “I’d never sully you like that. You’re just protecting me,” he explained, “in case your charming husband has the wise idea to shoot any arrows this way.”

Hawthorne held your hair in his hands and began to play with it, “Remember how I used to braid your hair?” he asked as he began to plait it, “I was quite good at it, I think. Your mother always laughed though, whenever she saw my creations.”

You shook your head, “Hold still, little princess,” Hawthorne chided, “or how else shall we pass the time?”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

All Tom could think about was your body in a casket. Six feet under. Covered in dirt. Your eyes milky with death. Your hands cold and grey. Your lips frozen against his. He didn’t even notice that all the lords had arrived and were seated, all looking at him, wondering why he would call a meeting at such an ungodly hour.

The calls of ‘your grace’ fell on deaf ears it would seem. So finally, Harrison placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, and addressed him as such, “Mate,” he squeezed Tom’s shoulder, “are you alright?”

Tom looked up at his friend, his blue eyes familiar and comforting. His own eyes were red and tears were kissing the edges, threatening to fall over.

“No,” Tom shook his head, blinking, letting the tears go, “Hawthorne took (Y/N),” he breathed out, “and I have to get her back.”

Harry and Sam looked at each other, both of their faces had dropped the same. The room's murmurs ceased as the air grew thick.

“What do you need from us?” Harrison asked.

“Money from the treasury,” Tom said, “enough to appease Hawthorne.”

The silence in the room was deafening. Tom’s heart constricted when nobody immediately jumped with their declarations of love for you, nobody immediately agreed that you were worth more than any sum of gold Hawthorne could want.

“Ida,” Harry turned to the girl, still shaken up and bruised in the chair beside Tom, “where is Hawthorne?”

“Just past the field at the end of the hill,” Ida said, “he’s alone.”

“Then I say we go after him,” Harry stated, “we don’t give into the demands of a madman. What would father say? If we let a man like that out into the world? He’s one cowardly man against a kingdom.”

“He has (Y/N),” Tom reasoned, “I’m not risking him hurting her,” he shook his head, “I won’t—I can’t lose her—”

“Harry’s right,” Sam nodded, “(Y/N) would understand why we can’t just give him his money and send him on his merry way. She—”

“She traded her life for mine!” Ida cried, “I don’t care if he’s just one man, he’s taking everything. He acts like he’s a god. I-I can’t let her sacrifice be for nothing,” she rose from her seat and began to walk towards the door, “if you need me for any more information on Hawthorne and how he has her, I’ll be with Dahlia, but I can’t sit here and listen to you talk about (Y/N), so ready to sacrifice her. She would have given her life for any one of you, and she did for me.”

Ida slammed the door shut and Harry shook his head, he rose from his seat as well, prepared to get up to calm her down—

“Sit,” Tom ordered, “you can fetch her later, I still need your council here.”

Harry reluctantly returned to his seat, “So what then? We give Hawthorne all of our gold and let him roam free? That’s not right.”

“Let’s do both,” Harrison suggested, “let’s get him the money, get (Y/N) safe from him, and then dispose of him. It’ll be hard to see the setup he has, but that’s our best bet on getting her out alive as well as ridding the world of him.”

The lords around the table all nodded and mumbled in agreement, but Tom was unconvinced. If somehow, this was to go wrong, and you were put at risk, he’d never forgive himself. He knew he’d never move past it. He could hardly stomach the thought of a life without you.

These past few months, without your touch, he felt empty and alone, but at least you were still alive. At least he knew you were safe, you were warm to the touch still. Even if you only gave him the cold shoulder, even if your words were only venom dripping from your viperous lips, he still pick that over truly losing you.

And then you told him you loved him. He held you in his arms again. He had you to hold again, and everything felt right, if only for a moment. And when he slept, he dreamt of you and Dahlia, out in the sun, singing melodies with smiles on your faces. He dreamt of you happy. He woke up happy. That was until he realized the reason for his slumber being invaded, and the moment his tired eyes met Ida’s frantic ones, his heart sunk, and it hadn’t risen since.

“Ivy,” Harrison looked at the guard, waiting patiently by the door for her next orders, “how many men can you spare tonight?”

“As many as you ask of me,” she said certainly.

“We’ll need men to surround where Hawthorne is, but they must stay far away enough to be undetectable. If he tries to run, we must make sure he doesn’t make it far,” Harrison got up and walked to a bookshelf in the corner of the room, one that held maps for any stretch of land in Europe. He came back and unrolled the map onto the table, “The trees over here will shield any guards,” he said, running his finger across the tree-line of the forest, “that’s about a quarter mile from the graves. You can circle your men throughout, so long as they’re under cover of these trees.”

“What about here?” Ivy asked, pointing towards the hill and the large oak tree, the one that came right before the field.

“I’ll be there,” Tom said, “with the money.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“I never wanted to hurt Lola,” Hawthorne hummed as he braided your hair, “she was just…in the crossfire. Tough, I suppose she wanted to be involved, so in a way, she did it to herself.”

Your response was muffled against the cloth pressed to your lips.

“Oh, right,” Hawthorne lowered the fabric.

“Lola was just a pawn,” you spat, “and even with her loyalty to you, you betrayed her.”

“Loyalty?” Hawthorne scoffed, “She sold me out the minute things went and got tough. You though, you hold loyalty well. Why is that, little princess?”

“Because I, in return, am loyal,” you said, “I love my family and my people—”

“But still, you left your sister here to fend for herself in a dangerous court. She died alone, (Y/N). that doesn't seem very loyal of you—”

“I loved her!” you snapped, “Don’t you dare question my loyalty or love for her—”

“And your dear mother, I hear you’ve locked her up,” Hawthorne clicked his tongue, “to rot away in her chambers—”

“Stop it—”

“Now I will admit, your father, that was my own doing,” Hawthorne chuckled, “that was a crack in my loyalty. But at least I don’t preach myself to be so high and pious. I never claimed to be a good person, my little princess. And when I drove my sword through your father's back—”

You flung your head back hard, connecting with a resounding crack against Hawthorne's nose. You tried you squirm away, but Hawthorne recovered quickly, grabbing you by the hair and pulling you to him.

“Fucking whore,” he spat, slapping the side of your head, hitting you right on the ear, and knocking you to your side. He kicked you in the face, chest, and stomach repeatedly. Everything started to burn, but at some point, right before he stopped, it all went numb before the endless aches came.

You could taste the metallic sting of blood in your mouth and you could feel the aftermath of Hawthorne’s aggression in the way your head pounded.

Hawthorne grabbed you by the hair and lifted you to face him. He crouched to meet your eyes and he smiled at his work, “You have your father’s eyes.”

“Fuck you,” you spat blood onto his face.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Mother,” Tom gently shook his mother awake.

He felt like a little boy again, waking his mother up in the middle of the night because his head hurt, or because he had a nightmare. Although, this time, he was in a nightmare, and it was ever-present in his mind.

When he was little, Dom would scold him for always running to their room every time he heard a bump in the night, but even his father couldn’t be too hard on the boy. The two of them always ended up in the kitchen at some ungodly hour of the night, eating sweets while Dom told Tom stories about when he was a boy.

His father was gone now, and even if he wasn’t, eating sweets in the kitchen while he listened to him rambling, while a welcomed distraction, would not soothe Tom’s mind this time. Though, he would give anything to have just one more moment like that.

“Darling,” Nikki immediately saw the tears in her son's eyes, it was the first thing she noticed, “what’s wrong? Come here,” she opened her arms for him to crawl into. And though he didn’t fit anymore, the bulky man that he now was, he curled into her arms, as though he’d still sit comfortably.

“(Y/N) left,” Tom sniffled against her shoulder, “and H-Hawthorne took her. And I can’t—I can’t think straight—” Tom began to heave sobs against Nikki’s nightgown.

“Shh, shh, my darling,” Nikki cooed, though she too was now feeling the stinging prick of tears in her eyes and the hard clench of her heart. So that’s why you said all those lovely things tonight, she thought. You weren’t just assuring that Nikki would be there for Dahlia, you were asking her to be, “breathe.”

Tom tried to take deep breaths but he could hardly get through one without it being cut off by his own choked sob.

“She’ll be okay,” Nikki tried to assure him.

“No,” Tom cried, “I—she won’t. I can feel it.”

Nikki knew immediately what Tom meant. It was that dread he felt in his gut that had now consumed his whole body. The same she had felt the night before Dom died. It was all-consuming and inhabilitating, knowing that something bad was going to happen and feeling powerless to stop it.

“Tom,” Nikki pulled away from the man crying in her arms, “you don’t know what will happen. You're not powerless in this.”

“I feel like no matter what I do, he won’t spare her.”

“Have you called your lords? Your brothers?”

“Yes,” Tom nodded, “they’re preparing now.”

“Okay, good,” Nikki placed her hand on her son’s cheek and wiped his tears with her thumb, “so what I’m hearing is, you did everything you could. No matter what happens from here, it’s not on you, my love.”

“It is, though,” Tom cried, “she—she’s only with him because he took Ida, and he’s only here because I invited him into our home. He—he killed Arthur—”

“I know,” Nikki hugged Tom’s head to her chest, “and he will pay for his sins. But his sins are not yours. Now, my darling, you must dry your eyes and put on your brave face. (Y/N) needs you. And if anything should happen to her, Dahlia will need you.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Harrison ended up going with Tom, to help carry the sacks of gold down to the other end of the field where he was to meet Hawthorne. The walk there was mostly in silence, save for the crunch of their footsteps over leave and dry grass.

“We need a rain soon,” Harrison noted, looking down at the brownish-colored grass beneath his boots. It was strange to have such dry weather in England, it almost felt wrong, but then again, there seemed to be a lot of things wrong in the English court as of late.

Tom only hummed and trekked on. He kept his pace swiftly in front of Harrison. He was a man on a mission, and Harrison could hardly blame him for seeming so cold and focused. He would be the same way if the role in this was his to play.

“I’m going to ask Ivy to marry me,” Harrison said suddenly.

Tom stopped for a moment to look back at his friend, “You are?”

“Mhm,” Harrison nodded, “with your blessing as our king of course. Ivy made vows that can’t be broken, but, I was hoping with your blessing, we could look past those?”

“A knight's code is very strict, Harrison,” Tom clicked his tongue as he continued on, “but, for you, I’d make an exception,” he smiled.

“Thank you,” Harrison beamed, “I know things have been rough for her and me, but after the last few weeks in Norway, I’ve realized that I don’t want to be without her. I only hope she feels the same.”

“If she doesn’t, then that’s on her,” Tom assured his friend, “but as for my end, you have my blessing and she will be pardoned of her vows to chastity.”

“Keep your sword on you,” Tom said as they made it to the oak tree at the top of the hill. He squinted down to the edge of the field where he saw the light from the lantern and two bodies, one knelt before the other, “I see them.”

“He here comes,” Hawthorne smiled widely when he saw the sacks Tom and Harrison carried, “our generous King.”

He grabbed you by the hair and pulled you to your feet, holding you tightly in from of him.

“Just take the money and go,” you pleaded as he held his blade to your throat.

“I will,” he assured you, but we’re going to have some fun first.”

Tom’s stomach did flips when he saw you. His first emotion was relief; you were alive. That was all he could ever ask for. But then he noticed the blood on your brow, and how a trail of red spilled from your lips. He could see your eye dazed and puffy.

“What did you do to her?” He asked quietly as he approached the two of you.

“Only what she deserved,” Hawthorne smiled, holding your face with his other hand, “doesn’t she look better this way? So calm and submissive? I’m shocked this isn’t how you prefer her.”

“Let her go,” Tom spat, throwing his sacks of golden on the ground, “you have your money and your freedom. Now—”

“Not so hasty, my friend,” Hawthorne chided before nodding down to the bags, “open them.”

“What?”

Hawthorne pressed his knife harder against your neck, causing you to gasp, “show me the gold.”

Tom pressed his lips into a thin line and looked over at Harrison, who had his hand held to his sword. He gave him a small nod, signaling him to stand down. He bent down and began opening the bag, expecting to see the shimmering yellow of gold, but when he didn’t see it, he began to panic. Opening the back wider, he only saw the grey dullness of pebbles.

Hawthorne looked over your shoulders, watching Tom’s face drop as he opened the bag wider. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, “You can’t trick me, little boy,” he said.

He moved the blade from your throat and held it behind your back instead, about to run it through.

“Tom!” you cried, feeling the tip of the knife against your back.

“No!” Tom yelled, jumping towards you, only for Hawthorne to press it further, drawing blood. He backed up and held his hands up, “Please, just—that wasn’t me. M-My brothers did that. They didn’t know—”

“Then her death is on them,” Hawthorne said simply, running the knife through your back until Tom could see the glint of metal peeking through your stomach.

Your scream was cut off by Hawthorne’s hand around your throat. But the pain burned. It felt like he did it so slowly, as though he was taking his time. Perhaps he was remembering all those years ago when he did the same thing to your father.

He pulled the knife from you, letting the blood drip out from the gaping hole. You turned your head slightly, just to get a look at his face as he did this to you. And in his eyes, you saw nothing. Where so long ago you saw someone you trusted, you now only saw darkness.

The minute he let go of your body for you to fall limp to the ground, you held onto the wound. You felt a gush of blood seep through your fingers.

“No!” Tom yelled the second he saw that sinister smile on Hawthorne’s face, but he wasn’t quick enough. By the time he got to you, Hawthorne had thrown your body to the ground.

Harrison was right on Tom’s heels, sword out and clutched in his hand. The minute Hawthorne saw it he started running the other way. Harrison threw the sword at him with all of his strength and anger and the blade found its home lodge through Hawthorne’s chest.

Harrison ran to his body, flipping it over with his boots. He was dead. Dead at last, after taking far too many with him.

He looked back, “He’s dead,” he called to Tom.

Tom had your body gripped in his arms. He was on the ground with your head laying loosely on his shoulder. Your blood was seeping through his shirt and staining his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut, more tears falling from them each time, in a sorry attempt to wake up from this nightmare, but it was real.

“Tom,” Harrison ran to the two of you. He knelt by your side and took your hand in his. He placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder as you offered him a sad smile, “I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at you.

“Go get help,” Tom whispered through gritted teeth and frantic eyes.

“But Tom—” Harrison tried, knowing that leaving would be futile. If anything, he would just gather an audience for your death. He wanted to say goodbye as well.

“Go!” Tom snapped, “Or are you too fucking stupid?!” You were in his arms and you were getting colder by the minute.

“Tom,” you whispered, scolding him even as you lay bleeding out in his arms, “please, don’t—”

“No,” Harrison said softly, “I’ll go, you’re going to be okay,” he smiled sadly at you, stroking your hair, “Ivy and her men are just beyond those woods, it’ll be quicker than running to the castle.”

Tom nodded as Harrison pressed a final kiss to your forehead, “I’ll see you soon,” he said, but you could hear the crack in his voice.

“Okay,” you nodded before he ran off.

He let out a sob at your voice, so tired and worn. You were probably exhausted. He took your hand in his.

“Tom, it’s okay,” you squeeze the warm hand in yours as hard as you could, but it wasn’t hard enough for Tom.

“It’s n-not okay,” he cried, “Harry and Sam—they were supposed to put gold in there—” he was cut off by his own cries.

“Don’t blame them,” you said softly, “please. Don’t let hate take refuge in your heart.”

Tom sniffled and held your hand to his face. He wanted you to wipe his tears like you always did, but your hand was so cold and so limp. You could hardly move your fingers. You slowly moved your fingers against his cheek, catching the few tears that you could.

You looked at him through the tears in your own eyes, “At least I get to see you one last time,” you offered him a small smile.

“Don’t say that,” Tom held you closer, “one more time isn’t enough for me.”

You got quieter as Tom held you, and though it had only been a minute, maybe two, he began to panic.

“(Y/N)?,” he cried, “(Y/N)?!”

“I’m here,” you said. You sounded so sleepy. You had lost so much blood by now.

“Please don’t leave me,” Tom pressed a kiss to your hand, uncaring that they were stained in blood. He winced when he saw the scar on your palm. Your hand was facing upwards in his, and the two twin scars you both had were one it the same. They were your physical proof of each other’s love; the willingness to sacrifice for each other.

“You,” your breathing was heavy and raspy, “take care of Dahlia,” you said, “I’ll take care of Arthur.”

The sun was rising, making the sky a cold dawn blue. It fell over your face, highlighting the light in your eyes that was dying out.

“No,” Tom shook his head, “this wasn’t supposed to happen,” he cried, “you were—we were supposed to gr-grow old together. I—I can’t live without you. Just hold on a little longer, please,” Tom’s tears streamed down his cheeks, dripping off of his chin and onto you.

“I love you,” you sniffled, looking up at Tom.

“Don’t,” Tom shook his head, “you can tell me that when we’re in bed and you’re okay. Don’t say goodbye to me.”

“Tom,” your hand went limp in his, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop it,” Tom cried harder as your eyes closed, “(Y/N)? Stop it, come on—(Y/N)!”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Tom had never felt like this before.

Not when Dahlia died, or when he thought Lizzie carried his bastard, or when you had hated him—every time you did so—, or not even when his dad died. Tom had never felt this emotion if it was only one. That was something he couldn’t pinpoint, nor did he give himself time to ponder.

It was sadness, overwhelmingly so, and anger. It was emptiness and brokenness and nothingness. He held your dead body to him until Harrison came back with Ivy and her men, all of them. And they all got to see the king at his worst.

Ivy, a woman who was usually so strong, so unmoved by the forces around her, fell to her knees at the sight. Harrison fell with her, hugging her from behind as she removed her helmet and cried.

And when your body was carried back to the castle, everyone saw.

The castle was bustling at the time, with lords and ladies getting ready for a start to their day, cooks getting the breakfast prepared, and maids running fresh linens to the rooms. Everyone stopped when they saw the entire king's guard returning with the king. They all gasped and fell to their knees when they saw the two bodies; one belonging to the queen.

Harry and Sam knew, just by the look Tom threw their way, that he blamed them, despite what you had said. His eyes were red and puffy, and he could hardly look at them. When he did spare them a glace, it s quick and it held all the malice he could muster.

Tom didn’t talk to anyone, he just went to the nursery and looked down at Dahlia, who was sleeping peacefully. She had no idea the pain that he was going through. She had no idea what she had just lost. He envied that of her.

Nights were the hardest. Tom hardly slept, if he did at all. Every time he closed his eyes, every time he dreamed, for months, all he could see was your body, dead in his arms, all he could hear were your screams. All he could think about, day and night, was how he never said goodbye. He cursed himself for being too stubborn to tell you he loved you too.

“Tom,” his mother sat on his bed. It had been a week since you died, “come on, my darling,” she was dressed in all black, and she too had held the pain of your death in her heart, “it’s time.”

“I’m not ready,” Tom looked out the window at the oak tree in the distance.

“You’ll never be ready, my love,” Nikki said sadly. She patted the spot on the bed next to her, “come on,” she said, “just for a moment.”

Tom sighed and sat next to her. He rested his head on her shoulder as he ran her fingers through his hair.

“Her side of the bed is cold,” he sniffled.

“I know,” Nikki said.

“And I keep reaching over, thinking she’ll either be there or it will at least be warm again.”

“I know,” Nikki nodded as tears fell down her cheeks, “trust me, I know.”

They sat in silence until there was another knock at the door. “Come in,” Nikki called, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Ida walked in with Dahlia on her hip, “Your grace,” she came over to Tom, “Dahlia has something to tell you,” she had a small smile on her lips.

“You do?” Tom wiped his tears and reached for the baby, who held her arms out for him. He smiled as his daughter babbled in his arms. She was the only one he could muster a brave face for.

“Come on, Dahlia,” Ida encouraged her, “can you say it again?”

Dahlia looked curiously at Tom as he looked at her with hopeful, kind eyes, though they were red-rimmed and tired. She loved having all the attention on her. She giggled as Nikki cooed at her, pinching her chubby cheeks.

“Mama,” she finally babbled out, causing more tears to spring to Tom’s eyes.

“Oh, darling,” he said, hugging her to him, “good job, my sweet girl.”

“Her first words,” Nikki smiled, patting her head gently.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The funeral was like no other held at the castle. Tom kept it small, only the people you knew and loved attended. Though all the people in England sent their condolences to the castle in the form of letters and gifts. The actual ceremony was just Tom, his mother, his brothers, Harrison, Ivy, Ida, and Dahlia.

Instead of keeping you in the family tomb, he had you laid to rest next the Arthur and James, so you could take care of him, just like you said you would. He liked to think that that’s what you would have wanted. However, he put all of your personal possessions in the tomb, next to Dahlia’s grave. Your little Russian doll leaned against her casket daintily, always watching over her.

“Tom,” Harry came up to his brother that evening at dinner. They hadn’t spoken since that night, “I’m sorry.”

Tom shook his head before looking up from his plate, “Go away, Harry.”

“Please, I didn’t know—”

“You should have listened to me!” Tom snapped, “She’s dead because of you.”

Harry recoiled at Tom’s harsh tone, “I was just trying to do the right thing…” he said quietly.

“Well, you didn’t,” Tom said, “you got her killed,” he glanced at Sam who was standing behind Harry, “you both did.”

“Tom, please—” Sam pleaded with his other brother, but Tom just got up and stormed off to his chambers, ignoring the downcast glances from everyone at the table.

Tom stayed in his chambers for the rest of the evening. It was the only place he could stomach because it was the only place he could be alone. If he was lucky, he could close his eyes and still smell your perfume, maybe he’d even trick himself into thinking you were actually there.

But the room was devoid of your personal charm now, it even seemed dimmer than the last time he was in it just that morning before he had so many of your things moved out. The only thing he had left now to hold onto was the memories. The ones of you and him in this bed, making love. The ones of you and him giggling on the balcony in the early hours of the morning, taking in the cool summer breeze. The ones of you waking him up with your gentle caress of his face. That’s all this room offered him now.

“Tom,” Ida didn’t even bother knocking, she knew it was futile that he’d even respond.

“Get out.”

“No,” Ida shook her head, “not until you listen to me.”

“Nothing you say can make this any better,” Tom said dejectedly, “(Y/N) is gone.” it was the first time Tom had said it out loud and it sounded bitter on his lips. The words tasted like ash on his tongue.

“She kept a diary,” Ida said, ignoring Tom’s moping, “she kept it under one of these floorboards.”

“Why?”

“It had personal things in it, things about her family, private thoughts, things she wouldn’t want to get out into the wrong hands,” Ida moved across the floor, stepping on all of the boards, and listening for a specific creak, “but you’re not the wrong hands.”

Once she heard it, she got to her knees and began lifting the board, digging her nails under it, and pulling the plank of wood up. Inside was filled with dust and dirt and one lonely book. Ida picked it up and dusted it off, blowing on it and patting it clean before handing it to Tom.

“How do you know about this?” Tom asked as he took the book in his hands.

“She told me about it,” Ida said simply, “sometimes she’d read some entries to me when she was teaching me how to read and write. You won’t like all of them,” Ida warned him, “the first one is from when she first arrived from France, but anything after the wedding, I think you deserve to hear.”

“Thank you,” Tom looked at Ida with tears in his eyes, “truly.”

“Of course, your grace,” Ida nodded, “you deserve to know how she truly felt about you, through it all.”

Ida left quickly after that and Tom opened the diary to the entry from the day you and Tom were wed.

Although we were supposed to consummate our marriage last night, Tom did not force me to. I appreciate that from him. He told me at the alter that he would be whatever it is I need him to be, and last night, he was just that: a confidant.

If only he were always such a gentleman instead of a brutish, frog-face—

Tom skipped to the entry from the night you first made love.

Last night, Tom and I made love. I let him have me in a way I’ve never let anyone have me before. It was magical, extraordinary, and inconceivable. I’d never be able to describe it in words, just how lovely the experience was. And afterwards, he said he loved me. I didn’t say it back, I refused to, and perhaps that was a mistake. Because as I am writing this and thinking it over, I think I may harbor feelings for Tom that I’ve never once harbored for anyone before. I do not find him nearly as frog-looking as I did before. Dare I say, he’s the most charming man I’ve ever met. Perhaps I do love him.

Then there was the entry from the night of his birthday party.

My heart is shattered irrevocably. My punishment must finally be upon me for abandoning Dahlia in England, for today, my happiness was ripped from my grasp.

Although the day began lovely, waking up in Tom’s arms, it ended horrifically. Lizzie Farley has claimed to carry Tom’s bastard, and in turn, Tom will have a child with her. I have yet to give him an heir. Is this what my life is to become? Second to her? I’m so sick with heartache, I can hardly breathe.

And the day you found out you were pregnant with Dahlia.

After missing my bleeding days and waking up feeling grotesque, I have come to the conclusion that I am with child. Tom and I have been trying for months now to conceive an heir, and although I am thrilled with the possibility that I may give Tom a baby, I am worried that something may go wrong. I‘ll tell him soon when I feel more sure of my conclusion.

And then, just a few pages down, there was something special Tom found.

Tom,

If you’re reading this means you’ve found my diary. It also means that you’ve been snooping, which you must remind me to scold you for.

Of course, nevertheless, I hope you are reading this in good health and with a smile on your face. I assumed at some point in time you’d either find this or I’d cough it up and hand it over, just because so much of it is about you.

I love you. I hope you know that by now. I mean, as I am writing this, I am carrying your child, so I’m sure you are aware of my affections. Even so, it doesn't hurt to express it more. Sometimes I feel like I don’t tell you enough. So, I love you with all of my heart. And I love the life we have created.

Even though this isn’t the life I wanted and you’re not the man I thought I’d fall in love with, there is such beauty and privilege in being yours. I love being bound to you.

Love you forever,

(Y/N)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A/N: and thats a wrap! finally, this series is complete! there will be an epilogue posted soon, i am already over 1k words in on it, so look out for that!

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✧tags & moots✧ PERM

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