#richard madden imagine

[axelsagewrites]

Robb Stark and Jon Snow*Competition

Part two to Share (here) which is the rivalry before hand or you can read this as stand alone smut. Part three at bottom

Pairing: Jon x f!reader, Robb x f!reader

Summary: just smut

Warnings: dom robb, dom jon, p in v sex, fingering, oral m and f receiving, spanking, threesome 18+

Word count: 3551

Masterlist Here

“What exactly am I supposed to be choosing?” you asked.

“My lady we can explain,” Jon began to stammer, cheeks going their familiar cute shade of pink, “Robb and I well we- “

“We both have an affection for you,” Robb continued trying to sound confident, but his voice failed him, “And we have been uh debating,” Robb said causing you to laugh.

“Debating?” you questioned, “It sounded more like an argument,” this time it was Robbs turn to blush and turn his eyes away.

Jon continued for his brother, “We just were trying to figure out which one of us you liked. Assuming you do like one of us,” Both boys were struggling to meet your gaze at this point.

“I might,” you said with a slight smirk causing both boys heads to snap up, their eyes watching you intently as you smirked leaning against your chamber door.

“Well, which one of us is it?” Robb asked with eager eyes. He was internally praying to the gods to give him some luck or at least to have him swallowed up by the grounds if he was wrong about your affection. Jon was silently thinking the same.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, “Who said it was one of you?” you said with a slight smirk. Both boys looked confused at your words. You walked closer to the pair with each word, “Would it be so bad if I didn’t choose? Were you not taught how to share?”

Your hands moved to rest on Robbs chest, looking up at him with a smile toying on your lip. “What do you think Robbie? Are you good at sharing?”

Robbs eyes flickered to Jon who was watching all of your movements. You couldn’t possibly be suggesting what they thought you were. “My lady,” Robb said, eyes returning to you, “What are you suggesting?”

You laughed lightly, stepping back from the taller boy before turning to Jon, “I think Jon knows,” you hummed causing Jon to look to the floor, face flushed bright pink, “Don’t you Jon?” you teased.

“I think I do my lady,” Jon murmured.

You moved closer to Jon, lifting his head up by his chin. Jon gazed at you with desperate eyes. Slowly, your lips moved to close the gap, capturing his into a gentle soft kiss.  Jons eyes fluttered closed at the soft skin of your lips on his. It was sweeter than any wine and his lips chased after yours when you pulled back.

Now you turned your attention to Robb who was silently stewing at his brother receiving all your attention, “Don’t pout,” you teased when you walked up to the taller man hands finding his strong shoulders again, “There’s enough of me to go around,”

Robbs strong hands suddenly grabbed your hips, pulling them into his harshly and causing you to gasp, “I don’t pout,” he almost growled before his lips dove down to capture yours. His kiss was hungry as his rough lips moved against your soft ones as you tried to keep up with his pace. Your lungs were screaming but air did not seem to matter anymore.

When the kiss broke Robb span you around by your hips, pressing your back into his chest, to face Jon. You could feel Robbs hard on pressing into your back. Jon’s face was darker than Robbs, with lust and anger spread across his skin. “What do you say?” Robb said, his hands still firmly placed on your hips to keep you in place, “Think you can handle a little competition?”

“It’s not a- “you started but Jon cut you off this time.

“Oh, but it is,” he said, walking closer to you, his chest a few inches from yours but eyes on Robbs, “Don’t throw a fit when im better at this than you,”

A dark chuckle fell from Robbs throat causing shivers to go down your spine, “You wish Snow,”

Jons eyes fell from Robbs to yours, his hands moving to gently take your face into his palms, “Maybe we should let you decide,” he said with a low voice, “You want us to share? Take turns fucking you?” his warm breath fanned your face and made shivers go down your skin. All you could do was nod. Jon took that as his que and his lips crashed onto yours, his hands moving to push Robb back and pull you by your waist into him. You craved the warmth of Robb against your skin again, but Jons lips were so sweet.

It felt like a perfect eternity however a rough hand suddenly pulled your shoulder, forcing the kiss to break. Robb stood in your place looking down at Jon, glaring into his eyes before turning to you, “Lay on the bed sweetheart,” he said with a softness to his voice, “Jon and I need to talk first,”

“Why don’t you strip while you wait,” Jon said before walking with Robb to the opposite side of the room to talk in hushed whispers.

You did as you were told, stripping down to your thin under shift which did little to cover your shape. Laying down on the bed of soft furs, you gazed at the two men across the room to admire their features when Robb suddenly looked, and your eyes snapped back to watch the ceiling as you waited.

You didn’t have to wait long as you heard footsteps crossing the room. Robb sat on the edge of the bed, his hand moving to stroke your jaw, “Are you sure about this?” he asked, all anger from before gone from his voice, “We can stop at any point,”

“I’m sure,” you said with a soft smile as you leaned into his soft touch, “I want you. I want both of you,” your eyes flickering to Jon who stood just behind Robb. You sat up slightly, your hand moving to rest on the back of Robbs neck, “Please,”

That was all it took for Robb to join his lips to yours, soft at first but a growing neediness began as he began to nip at your bottom lip. You gasped as his teeth sunk into your soft bottom lip, but it soon turned to a moan as his tongue slipped in and his hands moved to explore your body. First, they went down your shoulders, his touch gentle to start, before they moved to your breasts, squeezing them firmly making you moan.

Robb broke the kiss but only to strip off his outer clothes and tunic, leaving him in just trousers and his undershirt. You could see the hair on his chest peaking out and moved your hands to feel his hard chest under the thin fabric, “Like what you see?” Robb said with a cocky smile when he noticed your gaze.

Your blush didn’t matter as he pushed you down by your shoulder to crawl on top of you, his legs settling between yours. He began to grind down his hips into yours, his hard bulge pressing against your thinly clothed cunt. A hollow spot began to grow in your stomach as his bulge rubbed against your clothed clit, moving at just the right firm but slow pace.

Robb moved his lips from yours to leave harsh kisses to your jaw, down your neck, and to your collarbones. “Do you still have that red dress? The one that goes up to here?” he asked, tapping at the bottom of your throat. You nodded, “You’ll need to wear it tomorrow,” his voice was breathy, almost panting but you could not care when he began to suck dark marks along your collarbone.

Your hands moved to tangle in his curly hair, making him groan at your touch.  His hands still squeezing your tits in his hands, “You care about this shift?” he asked and this time you shook your head. You gasped when you heard fabric ripping and the cold air hit your chest. Robbs lips licked over your nipple causing it to harden under his tongue. He continued his assaults on your breast, one with his hand, rolling and pinching your bud between his fingers, the other with his mouth. You could not contain your moans as his teeth grazed over your hardened bud. “Robb,” you moaned.

He let go of your nipple with a pop, making a whine leave your lips, “Yeah me. It’s me who’s making you feel so good?” he asked with a smirk as he continued to roll his hips into yours.

You whined again when his hips stopped but held your breath when one of his hands moved down your body to move between your thighs, “Do I make you feel good?” he asked, his breath fanning your face, his lips so close but so far from your own.

You could feel his finger trailing up your already wet slit. “Yes,” you stuttered, unable to take your eyes off of his.

As soon as you said it Robb pushed a finger into you, his lips finding your neck again. He slowly began to pump his finger in and out of you at a teasingly slow pace, “Please,” you whined, and you felt his smirk against your skin.

Robb added another finger, a slight burn growing at the stretch but quickly disappearing as his fingers moved inside you at a slightly faster pace. You moaned as he began to lightly suck at your neck, your head rolling to the side to give him more space.

As you did your eyes fell on Jon who had moved to sit on a chair across the room, his eyes locked on you. your eyes scanned down his body and a smile on your lips when you could so clearly see the outline of his cock from his trousers. He had stripped down to his own trousers and undershirt, but it did little to hide his body which was more toned than you had expected.

Your attention was drawn back when Robb moved his thumb to rub against your clit as his fingers began to curl. Your eyes squeezed shut for a moment as you moaned from his touch, a warm feeling spreading across your body. Moaning his name only made him speed up. Jon watched the sight, his eyes dark with lust. The sight of him watching you, already hard only made you want this more. Then Robb curled his fingers in just the right way. Your body tensed up before all the pressure released liked water from a burst dam. Robb moved his hand to cover your mouth when a loud moan began as you came around his fingers. You gazed into Robbs eyes as you finished riding your orgasm on his fingers. “Not too loud darling,” Robb grinned as he placed a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t want someone interrupting out fun,”

“My turn,” Jon said as he stood from the chair.

Robb rolled his eyes, “Speaking of,” he looked down at you, pulling his fingers out leaving you feeling suddenly empty. “I’ll be right over there darling,” Robb said before getting off the bed.

You sat up as Jon walked over and stood at the edge of the bed. “Hey,” you said with a soft smile.

Jons hands moved to hold your face, guiding you over to sit on the edge of the bed looking up at him, “Hey,” he finally replied, his voice low, “You look so fucking good,” he said before his lips crashed onto yours.

You reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, your neck craning up to meet his lips. You felt him slowly move down to sit on his knees, his face now eyelevel with your breasts. Jon moved his hands down to squeeze them gently before trailing them down your half-torn shift to rest on your hips. His fingers dug into the flesh. “I want you,” he said, breaking the kiss with ragged breath.

“I want you too Jon,” you said.

His eyes scanned over your body, “You’re so fucking perfect,” Jons hands gripped your hips tighter, “I wanna make you feel good. Lay down for me,” When you went to move back onto the middle of the bed he stopped you, “No love, just lay down here,” Jon pushed your shoulders gently to make you lay down, confusion written on your face as you did.

Jons hands pushed up the remaining fabric of your shift to reveal you to him. Your breath hitched when you felt his hot breath against your wet cunt. a shiver went through you when you felt his face sink lower. Jon placed soft kisses to your inner thighs. You moaned when he sucked the flesh, leaving small hickeys into the sensitive skin. Finally, Jon turned to the part of you that ached.

The hot breath on you was already making the hair stand up on your body. Jon moved your legs to rest over his shoulders, his fingers resting on your hips. When Jon leaned in to place a gentle kiss to your cunt you couldn’t help but whine. Your hand moved to gently rest on the back of his head as he licked a soft stripe up your slit. Then again and again till he was lapping up your juices like a starved man, his fingers digging into your hips. It was the only thing stopping you from bucking them as his tongue began to dive into you causing a knot to build in your stomach. “Jon please fuck,” your moans were breathier this time.

When Jons nose began to nuzzle into your clit you couldn’t help the loud whiney moan that fell from your lips. Jon pulled his lips off of your wet cunt for just a moment, “Can you do something Robb?” he said but the way his breath felt against your wet cunt was already making you whine again.

Robb crossed the room quickly to sit beside you on the bed. When Jons lips clashed back onto your cunt a moan fell from your lips only to be cut off by Robb crashing his into yours. He held you by your jaw as his lips danced with yours in a sloppy hungry dance. Robb couldn’t help himself when his hand moved to grab your tit, rolling your nipple in between his fingers.

Jon broke his downstairs kiss again much to your dismay “I don’t need help,” he said before diving back in.

“Its not for you,” Robb panted before capturing your lips again.

Nothing else seemed to matter as a hot knot began spiralling inside of you. especially not when Jon moved his fingers into your hole so he could free his mouth up to gently suck on your clit. If not for Robbs lips on yours the room would have been filled with your loud whines. It didn’t take long for the pressure to burst like a balloon inside of you especially when Jons teeth grazed your clit.

Robb had to hold you up as you rode out your orgasm on Jons face who didn’t stop until your body was twitching beneath him. Jon stood up from between your legs to look down at you, “Maybe we could share?” he said, eyes flickering to Robb.

“What were you thinking?” Robb said, eyes locked on you as you looked between the two men.

“I get her mouth,” Jon said, hand gripping your jaw.

“Good,” Robb grinned as he got off the bed and began to pull the rest of his clothes off, “I always wanted to be the one that fucked her,”

When Robb finally unlaced his trousers, you saw his cock spring free. It was hard, the tip was already red and leaking precum. You stared at it in a mix of amazement and fear when you realised its size. This was not helped by Jon pulling off his own trousers. Neither man was lacking in that department. Jons cock was thicker and slightly shorter but just as desperate as Robbs.

As Jon was pulling off his undershirt Robb moved to pull you across the bed, “Its not polite to stare,” he grinned as he moved you to kneel in front of him with your back against his chest.

“Sorry,” you stuttered as his hands moved to push the torn fabric off your shoulders before they moved to your breasts.

“Don’t need to be sorry love,” Jon said as he climbed on the bed to be kneeling in front of you, “Just need to let us take care of you,” he said caressing your face, “You wanna suck my cock while Robb fucks you silly?” All shyness had left Jons body by now as he stared down at you, hungry for your mouth on him.

The words were enough to make you shiver and you felt yourself grow wetter, “Yes please,” you murmured as Jons fingers traced your lips.

He pulled you in for one last brief kiss before moving back. Robb placed a gentle kiss to your neck before pushing you down to be on all fours in front of him, “If you wanna stop all you need to do is double tap my thighs,” Jon assured as you took your place, but you had no intention of stopping any of this.

“You look so fucking good right now,” Robb praised as he took his hard cock in hand, trailing its tip along your wet folds, “I’ve been waiting to fuck you for so long,” he said, his tip gently easing into your hole. His size caused a burn as he entered you slowly making you gasp. Jon held your face in his hand as Robb pushed himself slowly in, “You feel so good,” you heard him grunt.

Soon he was all the way inside of you, his length filling you complete. After a couple moments of easing to the pain you nodded up and Jon who did the same to Robb. Robbs hands found your hips, gripping the soft flesh gently as he began to pull out slightly before thrusting back in. you gasped as he began to thrust into you, moving slowly to begin with.

You looked up to see Jons cock staring back at you, its tip wet with precum. When you looked up at him through your eyelashes Jon almost came at the sight. “Please,” you whimpered as Robb continued his thrusts. “Please Jon,”

Jon did not need anymore instruction as he moved forward to put his cock into your open mouth. The feeling of your wet tongue under his cock and your soft lips wrapping around his shaft made him groan. You began to bob your head up and down his length, your mouth struggling to take him all in.

Meanwhile Robbs thrusts began to increase and which each thrust you found yourself taking more of Jons cock in your mouth. When Robb licked his fingers before moving them to rub sloppy circles onto your wet clit your moans vibrated up Jons cock. Jon couldn’t help his hips from bucking as he began to fuck your mouth back.

Their thrusts became synced and as Jon thrust into your mouth you were pushed deeper onto Robbs cock, his tip hitting new places. Jons hands moved to your hair, gripping it as he tried to steady himself so overwhelmed with pleasure.

Robbs hand went between gripping your hip to placing hard smacks on your ass to make it jiggle even more. The sight just made him want you more. His thrusts grew harder and faster.

You could feel Jons cock twitch in your mouth which made you moan once again on his cock. “I can’t- “Jon gasped when he suddenly spilled his seed into your throat. Robb did not stop his thrusts as you swallowed the seed, Jons face screwed up in pleasure before he pulled his cock out your mouth, leaving a trail of spit and cum behind.

When Jon moved back you couldn’t keep yourself up for much longer. Robb moved his hand to push your shoulders down into the mattress, your fingers curling up into the furs as Jon moved to lay beside where Robb continued to fuck you. however, this new position made Robbs cock hit new spots which caused a load moan to rip from your throat. Jon moved your head so that your moans were now muffled by the pillow Robb was fucking you into. You felt your last and most intense orgasm rush through you, your walls clenching around Robbs cock. Robb tried to ride out your orgasm but as your walls clenched around him, he felt his cock twitch before he spilled, eyes screwing shut as he gasped for air.

Robb knelt back onto his knees as he got his breath back. Meanwhile Jon had moved you to lay in his arms beside him as you were still panting from your last orgasm, unable to speak from all the pleasure.

“You did amazing,” Jon praised, leaving a soft kiss to your head.

Robb moved to fall beside you on the bed, rolling onto his side to face you, “Absolutely perfect darling,” he agreed, kissing your cheek. “We’ll have to do it again sometime,”

“Agreed,” you panted.

Jon nodded in agreement, “But next time I get to fuck her,”

“We’ll see,”

Part Three Here

Game of Thrones Taglist @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy

#robb stark angst #robb stark x reader #robb stark imagine #robb stark #robb stark smut #jon snow x reader #jon snow imagine #jon snow angst #jon snow #jon snow smut #game of thrones smut #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #richard madden smut #richard madden imagine #richard madden x reader #kit harrington smut #kit harrington imagine #kit harrington x reader

[arctickat2400]

Celebration ∞ Prince Kit

Prince Kit x Reader

A/N: This is my first Richard Madden fanfic/imagine. I thought of this the other day and I'm now just getting to writing it. I didn't have any notes like I usually have for my stories so I'm not really sure if it came out how I wanted it to or not. But either way, hope y'all enjoy it and please request more if you're into Richard and his characters, or you can request other people/characters as well.

* * * *

Being queen had its advantages - your closest friends were royalty from around the world and you could throw galas and balls whenever you want to, among other things. More specifically, being the wife of your husband Kit came with many advantages, too. For your birthday, Kit would throw a huge gala in your honor. He knew you weren’t big on parties and huge crowds, but how could he not throw such a party to celebrate the love of his life? This also allowed all your friends from all the kingdoms to come and celebrate with you. This allowed you to see the joy it caused all the people invited as they danced and talked to people they don’t get to see often because they have their own kingdoms to rule. And it made you so happy to see them all so happy, having a carefree night to enjoy themselves and have fun. You also got to dress up, which you loved, and seeing how everyone dressed up in their respective kingdoms piqued your interest. 

However, being queen and attending such events had their disadvantages. You were not big on parties, as was stated previously. Although you loved your friends and loved seeing everyone having a good time in your kingdom, crowds made you anxious, and being in the company of so many people for so long made you tired and drained. And no matter how much you loved your dress and loved dressing up, your mind seemed just a bit more hyperaware than usual of how tight your corset felt. 

After your dance with Kit to celebrate your birthday, you’d been chatting with some of your friends, talking about the things going on in your different kingdoms, laughing about random things. Every now and then, a king, queen, prince, or princess would come up to you and wish you a Happy Birthday, to which you would respond graciously with “thank you” or something alike. Another friend or two would join your previous conversation, but after a while, you started to feel lightheaded.

You excused yourself from your friends, telling them simply that you needed a break and for them to enjoy the night before you make your way up to the balcony to overlook the gala. On your way, you passed by Kit to see him conversing with some of his own friends, kings from neighboring kingdoms, and some princes who haven’t ranked up just yet. Kit let out a joyous laugh and it made you smile, the way his smile reached his sparkling eyes. It’s already been a year since you married Kit, and yet, you still couldn’t get enough of your husband. 

Balling up your dress in your fists to lift the hem of your dress, you ascended the stairs up to your balcony, sighing as you were finally able to sit down. The night was hardly over and you were already getting close to being done, you were so tired. Of course, no one would mind if you left early, but you wanted to be there for everyone, to relish in the festivities. Plus, Kit had done so well with the whole celebration and worked so hard to create a night in honor of you, you didn’t want to miss a thing.

As you people watched from your throne above the ballroom, you spotted Kit, speaking with a different group of people. He laughed once more. It seemed he was hardly without a smile on his face, which made you so much happier that you were married to him. Before him, you’d been in a rough place, but after him, everything seemed so much brighter. He made all the bad days good again. He could put a smile on your face with just a simple hug or kiss on your forehead. Everything was just so simple with Kit.

Just then, Kit’s eyes locked with yours, his ocean eyes swimming with such love and adoration, it was almost overwhelming. You offered him a sweet smile in return of his before the Grand Duke came up behind him and whispered something in his ear. Kit nodded and the Duke walked off. Kit met your eyes once again before turning back to his friends. Your eyes wandered off around the room, then.

“Is everything alright, my queen?” The Captain inquired beside you as you rubbed at your forehead, willing away the on-coming headache and lightheadedness. 

“Oh, yes, just feeling a little out of it is all,” You answered him, trying to give him a reassuring smile.

“Can I get you anything? Something to drink?” He insisted.

“No, thank you, Captain. I was thinking about going to get some fresh air here soon, actually. I’ll probably get something on the way out.” You responded, and he nodded, keeping guard next to you while looking out over the crowd. He knew you’d ask if you needed anything.

Just as you were about to stand to go outside, Kit made his way up the stairs and was by your side in what seemed like seconds. You offered him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes as your headache had gotten progressively worse and your corset seemed to have gotten tighter. 

“Hello, darling. Are you alright?” Kit asked as he knelt down in front of you, taking your hand in his. He hated standing over you, looking down at you, so if you were sitting, he would get down to your level, to be able to look you in the eye.

“Yes, I’m fine, my love. Just needed a break, is all. You know how I am,” You squeezed his hand reassuringly. Kit let out a slight chuckle. “How are you? Having a good time?” You requested.

“Of course. I just hope you are as well. I would hate for something to be wrong during your own celebration,” Kit acknowledged. You assured him that you were having a great time, steering away from the fact that you were not feeling quite yourself. You didn’t want him to worry, because you know he would.

“But, I was just about to head out for some air,” You mentioned. “I should be back shortly.” You added.

“Would you like some company, princess?” Before you were married, Kit had come up with many nicknames for you. Although you were now queen, he continues to call you princess sometimes. 

As much as you would love some alone time with Kit, maybe a nice walk through your garden on such a beautiful night with him, you declined. You needed some alone time, despite hating spending even a second away from him. You knew the longer you spent with him, the more he would notice something might be wrong. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Go entertain our guests. I shouldn’t be long,” You stated. Kit left it at that, not wanting to pressure you.

Instead, he stood up, leaning over to the Captain, asking him to keep an eye on you, although you could hardly hear over the music and voices. The moment Kit married you, he assigned the Captain as your personal guard. He didn’t trust anyone more than he trusted the Captain, so who better to look after his love than his right-hand man? Kit took both your hands in his to help you stand before you wrapped your arm around his. He began guiding you down the stairs to the main floor, the Captain following close behind. 

At the end of the stairs, Kit pulled you in close and placed a kiss on your forehead before he went back into the ballroom and you made your way outside. You walked down the path towards the garden. You wished you had taken Kit up on his offer to accompany you. Of course, you loved being alone, but you loved being alone with him even more. 

Suddenly, despite your still closeness to the palace, the sounds of the music started to fade away, and your vision began to blur, stars that were not from the night sky obstructing your sight. You stopped in your tracks as your head pounded and your stomach swirled with unease. 

You bent forward, your hands on your knees despite all the fabric of your dress, and the Captain was by your side instantly. 

“Are you okay, Your Majesty?” Captain exclaimed, one hand on your back, the other around your arm. You breathed heavily, you couldn’t see, your legs became weak, and you collapsed to the ground. The Captain knelt behind you and you leaned back against him, your eyes squeezed shut.

“We need to get you inside, my queen,” Captain insisted. You opened your eyes once more when you felt the Captain lift you into his arms, then everything went dark.

* * *

Kits POV

I should have gone with her. She didn’t seem like herself. But, I know she likes her alone time, so I granted her that. Shouldn’t she be back by now? As I spoke to a close friend of mine, I was about to go find Y/N but one of the guards came up to me before I could.

“My King, you need to come right away,” The guard insisted, and my mind thought of the worst.

“What’s happened?” I questioned, my brows furrowed as I turned to him and he began leading me out of the room. 

“It’s the queen, Your Majesty,” He didn’t have to finish his answer before I came to a run towards our bedroom. Once I was in sight, the guards stationed outside our room opened the doors and I rushed inside. My eyes immediately drifted to the bed to see my love, her eyes closed, her face pale. She was changed from her dress to more comfortable clothes, her hands placed on her stomach. I rush to her side, sitting close to her on the bed, taking one of her hands in mine. I caress her cheek, hoping to coax her eyes open, but they remain closed. I look up to see the Captain standing beside the bed and then to the doctor on the other side who had just finished looking over Y/N. 

“What happened? Is she alright?” I demanded, looking between the two men before landing on the Captain who answered first.

“She’s okay. She fainted while on her walk outside. But, she’s going to be just fine, Mr. Kit,” Ever since I first met Y/N, that was when I had the Captain start calling me Kit and he continues to do so to this day. Since my father, only two people call me by my first name - Y/N and the Captain. 

“Thank you, for staying with her. I don’t want to imagine what would have happened if she’d been alone,” I worried as I looked back to Y/N, lifting her hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles. 

“Sir, I believe I have some information that may be of importance to you,” The doctor’s voice brought my gaze to him, silently telling him to continue. “Her Majesty will need lots of care as she is with child,” My eyes grew wide. Oh, how I wish Y/N were awake so I could relish this magnificent moment with her. I guide my gaze back to my queen, a smile coming to my lips and a single tear sliding down my cheek. 

“We’ll leave you two alone,” I barely heard the Captain comment as he gestured for the doctor to follow him out of the room. My sole focus was on Y/N.

I leaned toward her, pressing my forehead to hers. “My baby girl,” I sighed as I brushed my thumb over her cheek. There were no words that could tell just how much I love this woman, no actions that could show just how amazing she is. From the moment I saw her, I knew she was the one. And now, she’s growing such a great gift. 

Y/N needed to rest, but there was no way I could leave her. I removed my jacket before moving to lay beside her, propping up against the headboard. Just then, she moved to lay her head on my chest, her hand against my stomach. “Hello, my precious girl,” I whispered to her. I let her get comfortable, my adoration for her becoming tenfold as she nuzzled her nose against my chest. I brushed the back of my hand against her cheek, soothing her. 

Slowly, Y/N’s eyes opened. She took a deep breath before guiding her head up to look at me, my never-ending love for her the only emotion she could find. 

“I’m guessing you know,” Y/N stuttered, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. I only hoped they were tears of joy and not sadness or fear. 

“I do, my sweet girl, and can I just tell you I am over the moon with delight, my love!” I marveled. She stared up at me, stunned. “You’re not mad?” A tear slipped from her eye.

“Of course not, darling. How could I possibly be mad about something as wonderful as having a child with the love of my life? This is absolutely amazing and I can’t tell you how much I love you, baby.” I finished, my eyes filling with their own tears. I shift down to lie beside Y/N as she positions herself on her back. I hold myself above her, looking deep into her beautiful blue eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She places her hand against my cheek, “I love you so much, my Kit,” She beams, and I can’t hold back a smile before I lean down and press my lips to hers. The kiss is passionate, every emotion I feel for her in a single kiss.

Shifting down, I cup her waist in my hands and press my lips to her belly. My whole face brightens at the sound of her laugh. Oh, what this woman does to me. Laying beside her, I hold Y/N in my arms, her head laying against my shoulder, my hand placed over her tummy, rubbing the smooth skin there. “I love you, my sweet girl,” She hums in response as I take pure delight in the feeling of my queen in my arms.

#fluff #cinderella #prince kit #prince kit x reader #cinderella imagine #prince kit imagine #cinderella 2015 #richard madden #richard madden x reader #richard madden imagine

[alloftheimagines]

watched citadel and am once again simping for richard madden. if you have any mason kane requests feel free to send them my way. or david budd. always david budd.

#citadel #richard Madden #mason kane #david budd #richard madden imagine #richard madden x reader

[beananacake]

The Accidental Princess (Part 12)

Prince Kit x Reader

Synopsis: A contract has been found after twenty years, bearing your name and the Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter Synopsis: You awake and see how everything has changed since your vanishing

Word Count: 13.6k words

Warning: angst, violence, mentions of death and blood and murder, period-typical misogyny, long and maybe a bit of a boring chapter?

A/N: Hello my loves. I'm so sorry it's been so long. I promised you I wouldn't abandon this fic and guess what, TAP 13 is also finished! I just need to write the Epilogue and we're all gucci ;) I love it when you leave me little comments of your thoughts so please, don't be shy to leave some! I love it when you reblog this fic too! As usual, not beta'd, all mistakes are mine. Enjoy Part 12! (13 is coming a week or so after this!)

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Epilogue

The storm had taken a turn for the worst.

The once-calm sea had become violent in a matter of seconds and it had sent the crew of the ship into a frenzy, with incoherent orders barked from one sailor to another. Some had hoisted the sail, some had turned the mast and turned it whichever way the wind blew, and some had taken the supplies back to the deck below. Your father had grabbed hold of the helm along with the captain, doing their best to steer the massive oceanic vessel with the storm. You learned that fighting with the storm was futile; to go against it was instant death. You knew of no one who had gone against it and had survived.

Your grand blue skirts brushed against the barrels, halting you in your steps. You had always changed into your shirt and breeches whenever you were in your travels but now, you had failed to do so because your mind had been preoccupied with his smile and laughter and the way he answered the archbishop—

You could not change into different clothes now, especially so when the sailors were struggling with the strong winds and would not care less for how you appeared.

You spied one crewman floundering with his end of the rope, holding on to it for dear life, as the wind blew on the sail. No one seemed to have noticed him and so you rushed to his aid, grabbing hold of the hemp rope with both of your hands and gave the mightiest tug you had ever given.

“Y/N!” You heard your father cry out to you.

You lifted your eyes to the stern where your father stood with the captain, unable to shield your eyes from the rain as both of your hands were holding on to the line. He was pointing towards the cabin, shouting orders that were drowned by the crashing waves.

You knew what he meant, that he wanted you to return to the safety of the cabin, but you could not find it in you to leave the crew to brave the storms themselves. You were not some helpless lady, prone to fainting at the sight of something unseemly, and you did not wish to be alone if—or when—the ship turned into a watery grave for you and the rest of its passengers. No, you did not want that. You shook your head wildly at your father, hoping he saw it through the thick curtain of the rain and in the bleakness of the sky, and heaved once more as you pulled on the rope.

“Miss!” said the sailor beside you. “You must return to the cabins!”

“No!” you told him. You grunted with effort as you pulled on the line, hoping all that you were doing had an effect, even if it were small as compared to theirs. “I will not leave you!”

“Miss Y/N, the storm will only blow you away—”

You planted your heels against a barrel, the wind quite literally sweeping you off your feet. You hoped he did not see the coincidence of his words. “I am quite all right!”

Arms grabbed at your waist. Your sudden abduction made you drop the rope and you squirmed to break free. The arms were tight against you, knocking the air from your lungs and you could not voice your protestations despite the many of them that came to mind. It hauled you with him, moving you farther away from the once-struggling sailor, bringing you to the safety and dryness of the captain’s cabin.

“Please, Miss,” pled the sailor before he locked you within.

You tried pulling the door open but to no avail. The crewman had indeed locked you in with no intentions of setting you free whilst the storm was still raging. You would not stand for that. Your fists pounded at the door and you pled with whomever was outside to release you so you would help. Your request fell on deaf ears.

The ship gave a mighty lurch along with the wave and it sent you staggering backwards, landing heavily against the corner of the captain’s dresser. Pain erupted on your side and you cried out at the surprise of it. And before you could recover, the ship crested once more. This time, it rose much higher than before.

You were flung backwards, the force of the sea too strong for you to counter. It sent you flying back against the south wall, along with the many items that were scattered on the captain’s desk. A lit lamp flew by your ear and shattered upon impact, plunging the cabin into darkness. Maps and charts were tossed to your person. A large tome nearly hit you on the head, and an inkpot missed your hip by an inch. And when you thought it over, you heard the peculiar creaking.

It was a different type of creaking, one that made the hairs on your arm stand in fright, one that was unlike the usual sound of the squeaking doors. You had not one idea where it could possibly come from and you paid it no heed until the next shifting of the sea vessel. You had not moved from your position in the south wall—a mistake because the unusual sound had been the loosening of the bolts that held down the captain’s mahogany desk to the floor. With the ship’s near vertical ascent, the heavy woodwork came barreling towards you and in a matter of seconds, had you pinned against the wall, momentarily seizing you of your breath upon impact.

You gasped at the force; pain nearly blinding. The mahogany office trapped the lower half of your body along with your left arm, rendering you immobile, save for your other arm that you used to thump against the desk.

“Help! Help me!” You shouted as loud as you could with the piece of furniture pressing down on you. Your palm beat the desk until it hurt for you to do so, and still, like before, no one had come through the door to your aid.

“Help! Help, please!” You cried out. You labored your every breath, the motion of the ship not helping you because every movement only pressed the large desk closer to you.

Another wave hit the ship. The force of it moved the desk, giving you and it a wide berth, enough for you to move away. Whilst successful, you had not accounted for the other furniture in your haste to get away. As you moved closer to the door, you tripped on the raised carpet edge and the same dresser that you had fallen on before, now fell on you. Or rather, fell on your leg.

You gave a howl of pain, at the heft of the solid mahogany dresser and its attempt to squash your ankle flat. You knew the joint had broken upon impact and as you tried to pull away, you somehow felt your foot detaching from the rest of your leg. You felt sick to your stomach at the mere idea of it.

You grappled blindly before you, grasping for anything you could use to haul yourself from under the heavy woodwork. Your nails scraped against the wooden floor until your hand found purchase on a strewn piece of rope. You held onto it tightly and with all the strength you had left, pulled yourself from under the furniture.

“Help!” You cried as you dragged yourself. “Please, anyone! Help me!”

From your position on the floor, you felt even the minutest of all actions about the ship. There were the hurried footfalls of the crew. Their shouts of orders reverberated through the floor. You felt the crashing of the waves against the side of the ship and how it rattled both the bones of the vessels and yours. Even the swooping and falling of the boat was intensified from your place and each motion made you sick to your stomach.

You willed your churning stomach to calm down lest you start retching. With all the strength in you, you pulled on the rope, working with the actions of the waves and the boat, only moving when the cabinet lifted with the ship. Your hands ached at the hard strands of the hemp rope but you paid it no mind; you wanted to be free. You needed to be free.

Outside, the winds bellowed. The cabin lit from the lightning and shook with the thunder.

You pulled yourself free from your trappings when the dresser lifted with the surging of ship. You swung your injured leg away from any other furniture in danger of falling over and tucked it under your dress, hoping against hope it was still useful. You clung on to the rope and used it to pull yourself closer to the door. You banged and pounced, crying for help, and no one still came for you.

There was a loud, inhumane moaning, one that made you pause in your desperate attempt to call the sailors’ attention. You felt the ceasing of the motion on the ship. No more rushing steps. No loud calls of order. No sound of the storm, even. It was as if everything stopped. Everyone stopped.

A breath caught on your throat at the thought of your father. You pressed your ear against the wooden door, listening intently for whatever sound that could tell you of the state of him but there was nothing. The gentle sloshing of the water against the sides of the ship were the only sounds you could make out.

You slammed your body against the door, putting all of your weight to it to push it open. It took you three tries—and with each try, you grew weaker—before it burst open. You fell on the floor as it broke free, the effort knocking the breath from you.

You sputtered and coughed but the gasp that came from you was not because of the impact. It was because all the men of the ship had vanished, save for the figures before you. Two of them laid on the floor, bathed in red liquid, and the other stood with its back to you. The other was a that of a woman, her body turned to the standing man, waiting. For what, you were fearful to find out.

“Father?” you called to one of the figures, hoping it was the one standing although the silhouette did not look like him.

You scrambled to the nearest body, dragging your own behind you. You harshly grabbed at the head and turned it to you, breath halting at the sight of Kit.

Kit. The prince. Your former husband.

His ocean eyes were unseeing. There was a deep gash that ran across his neck and it oozed blood like the brilliant scarlet ribbon you often saw the Princess of Zaragoza sport in her hair.

You did not know he was aboard the ship. You did not know that he had followed you especially after—

“Kit?” You pulled yourself closer to him, cradling his head on your lap, not minding that your skirt was being stained of his lifeblood. You slapped at his cheek, watching as your tears fell on his lifeless face.

“Kit! No! Please, do not be dead!” You begged of him, shaking him, slapping, pinching, doing whatever you could to rouse him. “Please, my love. Please!”

His azure eyes—eyes that once beheld you like you were the most precious thing in all the land—remained empty.

You cried as you curled against him, embracing him, refusing to believe he was gone. “Oh, Kit. I love you. Forgive me. I did not know. I did not know…”

The harsh clattering of shoes sounded stark against the absolute silence. You did not relinquish your hold on him as you looked up at the source of the only sound.

“Ambitious girl,” it snarled.

You swallowed at the dread that kissed your back. You knew that awful voice and yet, you refused to acknowledge it.

“You thought you could save him from me but you’re mistaken,” the Grand Duke snapped.

He grabbed a hold of your face, turning you to him harshly, trapping your chin in one of his hands. His other was turned into a fist and was raised in attack.

“You’re next.” And his fist came down.

.

Your eyes flew open.

Kit. You had to find Kit. You had to see him—

You tried moving but there was a weight that stopped you. It was not as heavy or as solid as the furniture had been but it was rather plush, almost downy, but still quite hefty against your tender body. You attempted to lift your injured leg in hopes of knowing if it still had any use to you, but it felt as though it were caged in something. You could not twist it at all. It only laid motionless and the thought of paralysis scared you. You were immobile. They could easily get to you if you were immobile.

Was this some sick, cruel punishment conjured by the Grand Duke? Had he hit you and you had died upon his fist’s impact to your head? Was this the afterlife? What of Kit? Of everyone aboard the ship?

Your heart beat terribly in your chest, quick short gallops that made you fear it would burst from your ribs. You breathed shallowly and loudly, like gasps that racked your whole body. You felt your palms slick with sweat. It was too bright. It was too cool and warm at the same time. It was—It was—

You protested against your bindings, squirming to make space for you to move and be free but it was impossible. Your own body limited your movements because every squirm, every effort, made it hurt with an ache you had not experienced before. Your head had started to swim with the motion you were doing. You wanted to stay strong but your own body was weak and tender.

This had to be a part of the Grand Duke’s designs. He had failed in killing you when he had thrown you in that small hole and now, he had returned for you, returned to make good of his threats. He had bound you in these ties that were impossible to escape from.

“H-help!” You groaned weakly. Your voice scratched at your throat; the effort making you cough out the dryness. “Help! Help me!”

You thrashed and called out for help at the same time; not making any progress on either. The ties that bound you were tight, as was the vise that held your leg. You tried crying louder for help, hoping someone not employed by the awful nobleman would come to your rescue.

But when the doors flew open, all hope dissipated from your chest.

Princess Chelina entered through the doors, frantically looking about before her eyes landed on you.

You shook your head at the sight of her nearing you. She was his kin. She was an accomplice. She had to be. There was no reason for her to come barging to your room other than to inflict some kind of torture until you gave up living.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” she asked as she approached you. A forbidding feeling sat at the pit of your stomach.

“No. No, please. Not you,” you pled. You turned from her and yelled out. “Help! Please!”

“I am here to help!” She exclaimed over the loudness of your voice. “Tell me what is wrong—Guards! Get the physician!”

Efforts proving successful, you scurried from her, finally able to move your sore body and you landed on a heap on the floor beside your bed. The slamming of your injured foot against the floor, coupled with your already-bruised body and aching head, made you howl out in pain.

“Guards!”

You knew you had to get away from her lest she tied you back to whatever torture device her uncle had chosen for you. Your efforts were piteous; you tried dragging your body to a corner, hoping to become small enough for her to ignore but instead, you moved at a snail’s pace. You could not even pull your body because it ached by just being there.

“Y/N, let me help—”

You looked at her, eyes wide in fear. “Please,” you rasped and begged of her, tears pooling in your eyes. “Please, stay away from me.”

The look she gave you was one of dawning horror. She moved closer to you—you flinched away and she stopped herself from even nearing you after that.

“I would never hurt you,” she said. She crouched before you and reached out a hand to you like you were some spooked animal. “I am not my uncle—”

Your body shook at the mention of the man, at the memories of what he had done to you. A tear rolled down your cheek as you shook your head when you refused her attempts of helping you.

“Please. Please.” You did not know what you pled for but you felt in you that you had to.

“You must get back to your bed,” she said instead. “You are injured. You need to heal.”

“He wanted to kill me,” was all you said.

“I know,” she whispered achingly. “I’m sorry.”

“He killed the queen,” you told her.

She did not react in the way you expected. She only nodded sadly and still held her hand out to you. “I know. Please, Y/N, you must return to your bed.”

You disregarded what she had said after she told you she was aware of the man’s actions. She knew? She knew her uncle had committed regicide? Queen Amalie had passed the year before and yet her uncle has not been apprehended since?

“You knew?” you asked her, fear leaving you momentarily. Taking its place was disbelief. “You knew he killed the Queen?”

She nodded. “Yes. I was told of his sins.” She bent closer to you, face imploring. “Please. Let me help you back to your bed.”

You shook your head as you moved away. “No. Stay away. Please, I beg of you.”

A familiar face appeared behind the princess. Abigail arrived, looking harried as though she had been running, and rushed to your aid. You clung to her and let her lift you from the ground, shaking your head to ward off the nearing princess.

“Abigail, please, please, don’t let her near me!” You exclaimed, almost crazed with fear at the thought of suffering again.

“Miss?” your maid asked, sounding confused at your request.

“Her uncle! The Grand Duke! He—He—he killed the queen!” You looked at your friend, grasping at her small body as yours shook with desperation to be heard, to be understood. “Abigail, I must find Kit. I have to make sure he is safe—”

Your maid nodded at you. “He is, Miss. The prince is safe. You must not worry.”

“What?” you asked weakly. “Kit is safe? Where is he? I must see him—”

“You cannot, Miss. He is attending the Grand Duke’s trial. He will not return until nearly nightfall,” cooed Abigail. She had helped you back to your bed, gently brushing the hair from your forehead. “I will inform him you have awaken once he arrives but for now, you must rest.”

Your eyes flitted to the Zaragozan princess who stood rooted before your bed. It had only occurred to you that you were not in the ship anymore, that you had been returned to the palace, in the same room the king had given you upon your first arrival.

But the ship? Was it a dream? you thought to yourself confusedly. It was too vivid to be anything but, too lifelike especially when the dresser had fallen on you. But only, it did not fall on you and instead, you have fallen from a great height and your body had ached upon the impact.

It slowly came back to you, of the riotous storm and the rising waters, the jagged stones that pricked and stabbed at you, of the darkness that you feared would have made you blind. You had been feverish too and had hallucinated to comfort yourself.

But you could not recall anything of when you were rescued, no face nor voice at all to tell you who it had been that had saved you. You remembered singing the lullaby your mother had sung for you when you were a child. The hallucinations of her felt real, like she had indeed come from beyond the grave to comfort you. She had kept you company and you knew you would have gone with her if she had urged you to, if you had not been found by whoever recovered you from that dark space.

If your being on the ship was a dream, then none of that had happened. Kit did not—What Abigail said of Kit’s being in the trial must be true. He is safe. He is safe, you assured yourself, trusting Abigail’s words.

“The physician will see you now, Miss. I will leave you with the Princess—” Abigail turned to go but you grabbed at her hands.

You shook your head a little too wildly than normal, tightening your grip on your maid’s hand. “Do not leave me, please.”

“Princess Chelina will—”

“No.” You pulled Abigail closer to you, clinging to her like you were a small child. “I do not want to be left alone with her.”

The look she shot the princess was stricken. “Your Royal Highness—”

“It is all right, Abigail.” came the Princess’s reply. It sounded defeated and mournful; nothing at all how you remembered her to be. “I shall be in my chambers if there is need for me.”

Abigail bobbed a curtsy and turned to you. She brushed the hair off your face, nodding comfortingly. “I will remain, Miss, but the physician must have a look at you.”

The royal physician came and examined you; he deemed you safe from your bout of fever but he remarked that the bruises and aches you felt would remain for some time. The broken bones were the result of your fall and while the physician had done all that he could, the rest was left for nature to heal you. There was only a dull ache when he pressed and prodded at the once-tender parts of your body, a sign that he deemed you were near recovery. Your falls while attempting to leave the hole resulted in scars around your body; most were small scratches but the deeper ones had been healed and had scabbed over.

Your foot, however, was another matter entirely. He postulated that you had fallen on top of it and the weight of your body broke your ankle. He had placed your foot in a splint to prevent you from unnecessarily moving it and would remain so for months or until the bones and muscles had properly healed. The swelling had gone down—he told you it looked far more grotesque when you were rescued—but it still, it had not gone back to normal.

And your hysterics—you hated the term he used but you knew those were that—were the result of the mental trauma. Do not think of the man or his deeds, Miss, the physician said but you knew it was far easier to be told of that than to do it. You could not help that your nightmare of the Grand Duke having slayed Kit on your ship was fresh on your mind and had haunted you ever since you woke. You also could not tell him that the sight of Princess Chelina had triggered the great anxiety from you or else you risked sounding rude towards the Zaragozan princess.

“Your mental fortitude is strong, Miss,” the physician said as he mixed a vial of medication to your cup of tea. “I have had patients go mad when they were forced to face those who tortured them. I do not think you are in any danger of that.”

You could only look at the man, refusing to respond because you were at the brink of insanity with every passing moment you could not see Kit.

“But for now, you must rest once more. The ordeal of waking up and with your anxiety has taxed your mind and body.” He passed the teacup to you and you downed the contents like a parched castaway, drinking the bitter concoction to the dregs. You had not enough time to comment on the extreme tartness of it because sleep overtook you.

When you came to, the curtains were drawn to reveal the dark night sky. The rains had ceased and the full moon illuminated the grayness of the clouds as they floated by. Your room was kept dim, the only light coming from the crackling fireplace. Two shadowed figures spoke in hushed tones before it, heads bent as if in deep conversation.

You craned your head sideways to look for your maid, hoping she was still present in your chambers but from your position on the bed, you could not find her. You rose with the use of your elbows, the ache resonating all over, pain nearly forcing you back down the bed but you carried on, and you grunted as you felt your muscles lock. Your actions rustled the thick covers that were laid on top of you. The conversation between the two figures stopped and both heads simultaneously turned to you.

“Y/N!”

It was Louis who approached your bed first, a wide and relieved smile about his face. You sank back and watched as he sat on the edge before taking your hands in his.

“Imagine our relief to hear you have awoken. I was beginning to doubt your maid’s word because when we arrived, you were still asleep like how you had been the week past.” He gave your hands a gentle squeeze.

Your attention moved from the Duke of Granville to that of the other silhouette, who now rose from the seat and marched its way to you. The figure stopped at the foot of your bed, watching you with its sapphire-like eyes. Kit.

Kit was here.

Kit was alive.

You only beheld the man you loved, wanting nothing more than to run in his arms but knew it was impossible because of your broken body. He looked as how you remembered him from your waking moments and from the nightmare—eyes as blue as the calmest seas and the clearest skies. Shoulders broad and strong but now they dropped as if from exhaustion. Face handsome as ever but he appeared gaunt as though he had not had sleep for days. Kit remained at the foot of your bed, watching you with his tired but hopeful eyes.

“Must we call for the physician? Your foot has been rendered immobile by the good doctor. He said it was to ensure its proper healing. If it is hurting, we must tell the man at once.”

You turned to your dearest friend and looked at him blankly, had heard him but you did not comprehend his words because your thoughts were preoccupied with Kit.

“Why aren’t you speaking? Have you gone mute? Good god! Will a high fever make one voiceless?” He frowned at you now, frantically searching your face, still holding your hands in his.

Despite the heaviness you were feeling, a chuckle bubbled from you at the duke’s panicked ranting. It was a harsh sound but a sound of happiness, nonetheless. You squeezed his hand, assuring him that you were well. “How will I talk if you did not give me leave to speak, Louis?”

He laughed at that, enveloping you in an embrace. He was gentle against your sore body, cradling you in his arms like you were a newborn babe. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling his tense shoulders relax when you reciprocated the action. Your heart sang out for the duke. You could only imagine the horror they went through to find you and to wait for you to wake once they had.

When he drew back, he smiled at you with the same jesting smile you came to love.

“Always with that smart mouth of yours,” he told you. “You have to be careful with your investigation from now on, pet. I am not always present to save you,” he japed once more.

You rolled your eyes at him in a show of affection. “I thank you, oh my knight in shining armor.”

“I was not wearing an armor then when we rescued you. And my silk shirt was drenched and ruined when I plunged into the lake to search for you.” He sulked rather childishly and you chuckled at the absurd sight of the handsome, charming duke.

“I’ll be sure to ask the tailor to round up two fine silk shirts for Your Grace.” You said with false gravity. Oh, how you missed this!

“Very good.” He grinned. He sobered as he took your hands once more in his. “Pet, you must know I did not call for you to go in the library. It was not me.”

Your heart thudded against your chest, losing the lightness that came to you instantly. You gave a sad smile, disguising the shiver of fear for one of coldness. “I surmised as much,” you rasped and you cleared your throat. “But it hardly matters now.”

Louis squeezed your hands once again. “Chelina told me that you refused her presence.”

You drew your hands back and kept them under your covers, hiding from them the way they trembled at the princess’s name. “She—” You frowned and harrumphed, swallowing the hard lump that now resided on your throat.

“She is his kin,” you told the duke in a small, shaky voice. “She had no reason to be in my room or come to my assistance.”

He gave you a sad shake of his head, disagreeing with what you said. “She is also his victim. And she has kept watch of you while Kit and I attend the trial. It is her penance, she said, because she is his niece even though she is faultless in all that has happened.”

You had not thought of Chelina as the Grand Duke’s victim. It was jarring to know the nobleman’s manipulation knew no bounds—his machinations were not exclusive to Kit and his family. Even his own family he deceived, all because he could. Gooseflesh rose from your skin and you rubbed at them.

“And yes, he is in trial. He will not harm you any longer.” Your friend assured you.

You nodded absently, hoping his words to be true. Your dream felt ominous.

Louis looked back at his cousin, who still stood unmoving in his position, before his eyes returned to you.

“He was insufferable when you had vanished,” the duke said and you heard the jesting in his tone.

You gave a weak smile at Louis’s attempt to joke. Your eyes then flicked to Kit’s, who only watched you quietly.

“I shall take my leave. Kit has been hoping to see you awake since your rescue. I would not want to make him wait any longer.” He took your hand and placed a delicate kiss atop it. “Call for me if you wish for better company, pet.”

The jolliness of the duke was infectious and, even as you were still reeling from the mental torture the Grand Duke’s attempts of killing you had inflicted, you could not help the smile that graced your lips. He gave you a brotherly kiss on your forehead and whispered that he was glad to see you awake and nearly back to your pesky self, to which you replied that you only gleaned it from his behavior. With a laugh and a pat on his cousin’s shoulder, he left your chambers.

You watched Kit from your bed, at the way he did not move to near you. He only beheld you with warring expressions; from anger to pain, disbelief to assurance, from the way his eyes seemed steely with memories before it melted and made way for the familiar love you saw in them. The relief that emanated from him was near palpable and it bled through you, easing your mind and calming you.

The lifeless Kit only belonged in your nightmare. This was the truth. This Kit before you, he was real and alive and—

“Are you all right?” you asked when he still made no move to come to you.

“Are you?” he countered, voice quiet.

Despite you wanting to answer in the affirmative, a whimper escaped your lips. The emotions that assailed through you were too much to bear. You loved Kit, loved him more than you could ever love anyone, and to see him before you—in the flesh and not as some febrile hallucination or in your nightmares—brought out all the frustration and fear and pain in you.

Your tears spurred him into action; his arms were now around you as sobs racked your body. They were pitiful sounds, not unlike the same tears you cried at the announcement of your separation. You clung on to him, leeching off of him to appease yourself. He was the salve to your pain, the comfort to all your aches, and if he let you take what it was that he offered to heal you, you greedily accepted it.

He drew back from you and his thumbs swiped at the tears that tracked down your cheeks. His cerulean eyes looked at you with all of the love and worry in the world, a frown marring his handsome features and morphing his face into that of utmost concern.

“Are you in pain?” he asked of you, ache lacing his voice.

“I was so scared,” you choked out in between sobs. “I thought I would not return to you. I thought I had lost you—”

He shook his head with an intensity you had not seen from him before, as if he would not allow you to entertain such a thought. “Do not think of that, my love. I will always come find you wherever you are, never doubt it.”

In spite of all his assurances, more tears welled in your eyes. You let them come, basking once more in the comfort of your love’s arms. Kit only held you flush against his chest, murmuring assurances that you knew were for the both of you. You clung to him tightly, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, felt him tremble as he embraced you with such ferocity that it made you weep some more. Once you had spent all the tears, you pulled from him and almost shied away if he had not taken your chin softly by his fingers. He turned your face to him, his ocean-like gaze soft and loving.

“I love you,” he said. “Never think otherwise.”

You nodded, knowing you would not.

And like the capricious seas, his gentle eyes turned stormy. Gone was the fond expression and in its place was that of tortured pain. The emotion clouded his eyes, changing his entire face, and he turned from you to hide it.

“Forgive me for not coming for you sooner,” he said and you heard how he choked on his words as well. “We were gathering evidence as quick as we can but it was not fast enough. And the Grand Duke refused to tell me where you were. It had only been by his mistake that he revealed you would have drowned if we were too late. And… And while we were not too late when we found you… Louis and I…”

Your chest ached when he failed to continue, as if voicing them would bring him more pain. No matter how he tried, he did not follow through his words. He now looked at you with his troubled eyes, eyes that had seen horrors you would not be able to comprehend.

You placed your palm flush against his chest, felt the thundering beats of his heart so similar to your own. You longed to take the pain from him, to return the warmth he gave you as he calmed the fear that once laid in your chest. Kit suffered enough. You would not allow anything to hurt him anymore.

“You were calling for your mother,” he said in a voice so hushed, it was nearly drowned by the sound of the crackling of the fireplace. “I knew she was gone; I had seen the shrine your father built for her, but you were holding a conversation with her. You were answering questions only you could hear and I—”

A tear glistened as it slid down his cheek. He swallowed thickly and you saw the lump as it worked on his throat. “It reminded of my mother. She had been delirious on the day she died. So when you called out to your own mother, when you only looked past me when I finally had you in my arms… I thought I was too late. I thought I was bound to lose you too.”

“Oh, Kit.” Your own eyes burned with tears and you felt them fall down your cheek. It must have been difficult for him, to have seen you in that state and be reminded of how his own mother had died. But you did not pass unlike his mother. He needed assurance that he arrived just in time for you.

Your hand that was on his chest moved to cup his cheek and you wiped the tear with the pad of your thumb. “You found me. I am here.”

“But I was too late—”

You shook your head at him gently. “No. No. You were not. I did not drown. I did not perish.”

Taking his hand, you used it to cup your cheek, leaning into it as if to say you were not a mere illusion. That you were present because of him. You hoped you brought comfort to him like his presence had with you.

“All I could ever think of was you,” he told you. “Even when my father was recuperating from his own brush with death, all that worried me was finding you.”

“All I could think of was you, too,” you said as you looked at him.

Kit's lips met yours in fiery desperation, hungry to feel you closer, wanting to absorb you into his very being. His hands moved to your face, cupping your head as his lips danced on your. You tasted his tears along with his relief and frustration, savored the salt and the sweetness of his lips. You threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer than ever, hearts beating in time with each other as your chest pressed against his. Your fingers vanished in his thick hair on his nape, grabbing a handful of it when he suddenly deepened the kiss. Your own mouth moved with his, a new bravery coming to you and you ventured on, even tasted more of the salty tears that had now come from you. Kit was real, this was real. You had found each other. It was all that mattered.

You loved Kit, you could not deny it any longer. You loved him above everything you held dear in your heart. You loved him mightily, loved him with your whole being and you wanted nothing more than to remain in the protection of his arms. You survived to love him, this much you knew. And love him, you will. Without constraint. Without a second thought. Without a care for the judgement of others. He loved you and you loved him. It was all that mattered.

You cried out when his hands pressed against your bruised back, and he pulled his mouth from you, seeking your eyes for any pain. You only buried your face on his neck, breathing deeply and inhaling his scent and found comfort in it from everything that ailed you.

“I love you,” you whispered against his skin. You laid your hand on his chest and felt the fast drumming of his heart, rhythmic with your own. “I am yours to undo, Kit.” you said, repeating the words he had said to you.

He kissed your crown gently. “I love you,” he whispered against your hair. “I will love you forever.”

You remained in each other’s arms after you kissed, sharing no words between you. It was the unsaid that spoke volumes, of the words that did not need saying but you both knew what they were.

It was after a while that you asked how and where he found you. He had replaced you back in your bed, a mountain of pillows behind you as it propped you upright. He still clasped your hands in his, refusing to forgo any contact with you. His thumb brushed gently across the skin of your knuckles, a soothing action that put the both of you at ease.

“The lake we were searching sat near the mountain ridges that held the mines. Something called me to them. It told me to come and seek there. I thought it had been my mother’s spirit, calling to me to rest my head before I go for another search of you. So I went.”

He then told you of how Louis refused to follow the singing voice but reluctantly helped him when Kit told him he was free to leave. It had been your singing that led you to them, and your hallucination of your mother dangling a ribbon to you had been Kit, dangling his own rope to haul you from the deep well. It was his voice that instructed you to tie the ribbon to your waist, the one who asked that you kept singing so you would not be scared. Kit’s eyes were the familiar blue you remembered seeing before everything turned black.

“I am glad you are awake, my love. I would not know what I am to do without you.” Kit told you as you both waited for dinner to be brought to your chambers. He had told the butler and your maid that he and you were to sup in your room; he refused to leave you even for a while.

You gave a wan smile, recalling the nightmare that prompted you to wake and shuddering from it. Your reaction did not go unnoticed by Kit, who took your hand again in his and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles to calm you.

“I dreamt you died,” you whispered, watching as he stiffened against your hand.

He only looked at you with pained eyes, unmoving but did not let go of you. You held on to the warmth that came from him, feeling it strengthen you to tell him of your horrific nightmare. You felt the need to tell him of it, felt that you had to show that it frightened you into waking.

You struggled to gather your thoughts, not wanting to relive the mental torture but you knew it must be said. “I was on a ship,” you told him. “There was a strong storm and the crew were having a difficult time navigating the seas. We could not dock because there was no land in sight.”

“Where were you going?” he asked quietly.

You frowned and swallowed an impossibly large lump on your throat. “Anywhere away from you. I—I could not bear to see how happy you looked when you had married Princess Chelina. I refused to see you smile and not be the one to receive them.”

You let out a shuddering breath, shivering when you felt the phantom heaviness of the dresser against your crushed ankle. It was a dream, Y/N. It was only a dream, you told yourself. You told him what had happened in your nightmare, of the storm that appeared so suddenly to when you were pinned beneath the furniture. “I was able to free myself from the cabin and when I emerged on the deck, there he was.

“The Grand Duke.” You whispered shakily.

He pressed your hand against his cheek now, holding you close, and you felt the roughness of the growing stubble about his skin. The sensation was new but welcomed—anything else was welcomed compared to the pain you felt at the memory.

“The crewmen were gone. No trace that they had even been there at all. There were only four figures; the Grand Duke was standing there and had been holding something in his hand that he dropped at the sound of my voice, and the other two laid on the deck with blooding oozing from them. I do not know who the other one was but it was a female. I called out to my father, hoping he had been the one standing but I received no answer. Then I turned the head of the body closest to me and it was you.”

Your eyes burned. Tears blurred your vision as you looked at Kit’s blue eyes that had become your home.

“I did not know you had followed me when I left. I did not know why you did when you had looked content to be married to the princess but I was too late to ask all of those questions because the Grand Duke had killed you. Your eyes were open but they were glassy; they only went through me without seeing me. You did not rouse when I tried waking you. You did not—”

You sucked in a desperate breath, feeling your throat constrict as your nightmare flashed before you. “You were dead. He killed you. And he wanted to kill me too.”

Kit’s arms wrapped around you once again and he made a soothing sound as he ran his hands in your hair. You released another wave of tears, crying at the sight—at the mere idea—of the Grand Duke coming after the prince. You were defenseless with your still-healing body; although you knew the possibility of your dream coming true was low, it was not an impossibility for it to happen.

“The Grand Duke is under Captain Thibault’s custody now. His trial before the Magistrate is afoot.” Kit told you as he soothed you. “Prince Frederick will ensure we get the justice we deserve.”

You nodded quietly, accepting all that had been said. You relished to be in his arms, to feel the love that radiated from him, basked in it until you were spent from crying.

“Will you stay with me?” you asked of Kit. “I do not wish to be alone with my thoughts and my dreams.”

He pulled from you and gave you a soft smile, brushing his knuckles across your cheek to wipe away the tears. “My love, I will do anything you ask.”

You were anxious when the food arrived. It reminded you of the last time you ate at the Dining Hall, of the time when the king had ingested hemlock. You would have taken it absently, given how emotionally fragile you were then. Kit noticed your reluctance in eating and he sampled everything in your plate and his to show you that the food was harmless. He assured you that the Cook had also been held in custody for her alliance with the Grand Duke.

All other accomplice he had had been captured and kept, he had said, they will not harm us any longer.

Dinner was brief. You had taken only a few bites, despite Kit’s attempt at making you eat more, and you filled the rest of your empty stomach with tea. Kit only frowned but wisely did not comment. When dinner had been cleared away, you offered the space beside you on the bed for him to lie on. He refused, told you that your foot still needed healing and was mindful enough to take into account the many bruises on your tender body, and that he would stay on a chair to keep guard of you. You were exhausted by the end of that conversation and would have engaged in more if your eyelids had not shut close immediately after he assured you.

When you awoke in the morning, Abigail had taken Kit’s place on the chair and was mending your pink dress. She noticed you were awake and passed to you a note and a small bouquet of flowers. You left the bouquet on your lap and opened the missive, finding Kit’s elegant script informing you why he had gone so early.

My love,

I must see to matters of the kingdom while Father is resting. My Cousin and I will be absent for the day. Forgive us for not being able to spend much time with you. Princess Chelina has told me she is at your disposal come this afternoon, should you wish for it. Your maid Abigail will devote her time to you. She will not leave you until I arrive, perhaps by dinner or after. Let her be your hands and feet while you are taking your rest.

I had picked the flowers from the garden. I hope it will keep you company until I return.

All my love forever,

Kit

The bouquet was small: irises, begonias, daisies, and lavenders haphazardly put together and tied with a length of twine. You found amusement in the bouquet, arranging it in a way so they were not crowding against one side. You knew he took extra care in picking out lavenders as they were still plump and full of its sweet-scented buds, unlike the rest of the bunch that look as though they were merely an afterthought. But altogether, however, they were beautiful. You had asked Abigail to put them in a vase beside your bed.

Breakfast was much like dinner; Abigail sampled your food before you ate it and you only nibbled on eggs and bread before telling her your appetite had gone. Tea calmed your churning stomach and you plied yourself with the liquid every now and then, sometimes with sweetmeats when you had gotten hungry. Your maid did not comment on how little you ate but she often looked at you with worry.

“What news of the king?” you asked her when you had tired of looking out your drawn curtains and to the soft rain that was once the riotous storm.

“The king is well, Miss, but the physician says he is to rest until he regains his strength,” Abigail dutifully replied. “In the meantime, it is the prince who oversees the matter of the kingdom.”

You nodded. You wrung your hands on your lap as you asked her nervously: “And of his upcoming nuptials to the Princess Chelina?”

She dropped her mending to look at you, conflicting emotions on her face. She looked in part happy and hopeful, and she also looked sad and piteous at your question. You did not know which emotion was for you.

“They are not to wed,” she replied.

You frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“There are rumors, Miss, of the prince refusing the princess’s hand in marriage, especially after everyone learned of her uncle’s treachery.”

“Rumors?”

She nodded. “The King and Queen of Zaragoza arrived early today. The prince and the princess were called to meet them. We could only assume it is for the dissolution of their engagement since we have not been told to prepare for any festivities.”

“But the king has been insistent on them marrying.” He divorced me from his son for the sole purpose of him marrying the foreign royal, you wished to add but refrained from it.

“If so, they were to be married upon the arrival of her parents. The Head Housekeeper has not ordered meats and breads and flowers for us to prepare, and it takes an awful long time to do them, Miss.”

You remembered Kit’s missive, of Princess Chelina’s availability only in the afternoon. Your heart gave a wild thump at the coincidence of Abigail’s words and his letter. Will they really meet with Princess Chelina’s parents? Did he truly refuse to marry her? A hopeful voice in you asked. Kit would be free to marry whomever he chooses.

But do not assume it will be you, another voice said, this one a tad derisive than the other. The king insisted he wed a princess, not a country girl or a diplomat’s daughter, especially one who has brought on more trouble than what she’s worth.

You refused to acknowledge the evil voice in your head but you knew the words were true. Even if Kit and Chelina’s engagement were to end, his father would only find another princess for him to marry. And you were not. The king had made it glaringly obvious, most especially during your last dinner with them.

“Is the princess an accomplice of the Gr—her-her uncle?” you asked slowly, unable to express the words without feeling the kiss of dread on your back. Just the mere thought of the man sent you into a spiral of anxiety.

But Abigail shook her head a little too solemnly. “No, Miss. She has been frightened of him since learning what he had done to the queen, the king, and to you. She had kept watch of you ever since your return, all because she wishes to apologize for what he had done.”

Perhaps you had misjudged the princess when you awoke. In your dreams, she was Kit’s newly wedded wife, as was the king’s plan for her. And the ribbon that she often wore on her hair looked so much like the terrible gash on Kit’s neck that leaked his blood. If Abigail spoke the truth, then when the princess burst into your room to heed your pleas for help… You cringed. You were monstrous to her. Louis was correct in saying she had been a victim of her uncle too.

You and Abigail talked of other matters and you were glad the topic was diverted into something else other than the awful man. She was enchanting company; she talked of her days with the Captain of the Guards and how the Head Housekeeper nearly caught them cavorting with each other. You were happy that she was happy with Captain Thibault and you decided that you were to ask for Kit’s help to bring them much closer together. And Abigail, loyal as she was to you, she decided then and there that if you were to leave the palace once you have recuperated, she would wish to be in your employ as your lady’s maid.

“Although,” Abigail had said as brushed your hair. “I wish you could remain here, Miss. The palace has become lively with you in it. It is like the days before Queen Amalie’s death has returned.”

You left your conversation at that.

Kit arrived by dinnertime.

“I hoped the flowers sufficed during my absence,” Kit said as he returned to his seat. He looked much improved since seeing him yesterday, as though your awakening had done wonders for him. He appeared to be jollier as well, making him look nearly identical with his cousin.

“They were lovely.” You smiled at him as he reached for your hand. “Thank you.”

“Louis shall join us shortly,” he informed you as he slipped his fingers in between yours. “How was your day?”

“Uneventful. I cannot leave my bed, even if I wanted to.” You gave him a sarcastic smirk, of which he returned with a laughing one. It was refreshing to be this open with him; a marked contrast after all the times you were forced to keep your love for him to yourself.

You watched him, debating on asking him about his and Princess Chelina’s engagement but you caught yourself. You were not in the position to ask him of such; it was his and the princess’s business. Despite the newfound candour you had with him, his relationships were a line you dared not cross.

“No one will stop you if you spoke what’s on your mind, my love,” Kit urged. “Tell me. I shall answer however I can.”

You bit your lower lip, wanting to ask him but at the same time, wanting to remain ignorant. What if the rumors were incorrect? That Kit and Chelina only met with her parents because they wished to push forward the wedding to an earlier date? That they only wanted a small ceremony so as to not draw much attention to how sickly the king was? What if they had already been married in secret?

“Y/N?”

“Is it true?” you blurted. You could not bear to remain in the shadows any longer. “That you and the princess will no longer marry each other?”

“Ah.” was all Kit said. He leaned back on his seat, stretching his legs, but he did not let go of your hand. “Yes, it is true.”

A wave of relief washed through you. But it was short-lived. His father will still want a princess for him, he had told you as much. You dared not hope.

“I was not present to watch you wake because we spoke with the King and Queen of Zaragoza today. Chelina and I told of our plan to not marry each other. They were quite peeved at the turn of events but they concurred when we told them the truth.”

You cocked your head to the side, watching his face. There was no regret on it and he only spoke as though it was all purely for business and for the kingdom. In that moment, he looked quite princely as he spoke.

“What truth?” you asked.

“That the engagement was her uncle’s machinations. The Grand Duke wished to install Chelina and control her once she becomes queen.”

You shivered. You would have guessed the nobleman was misogynistic if only his ire and disdain had been directed at other women as well, not just you.

You felt the gentle pressure of Kit’s hand against yours, belatedly realizing that your hand shook at the mention of the ghastly noble.

“While they maintained that they were unaware of his plans, they still urged us to honor the engagement since Chelina is already present in the kingdom.”

Your eyes flicked to him, at the wry twist of his mouth. You refused to name the way your heart broke at their suggestion. Surely, a prince and a princess could not decline such a suggestion, especially when it came from monarchs of a powerful kingdom?

“I have never seen the princess be so determined until earlier today.” Kit told you, now in amusement and awe. Your heart gave a painful thud at the admiration you saw that sparked in his eyes. “During the times she was here, she had been docile and aloof. When we spoke to her parents, there was a fire to her spirit. She told them it was her decision to not marry me because I had been through enough heartache and she would not want to saddle me with herself, seeing as I do not love her. She said it would be cruel of her to force the two of us to such fate when there is a solution to mine.”

You only kept watch of him, of the soft, loving smile that graced his lips as he now beheld you. Princess Chelina advocated for the dissolution of their engagement? Because she knew he did not love her? It was an absurd argument. You knew of other kingdoms whose kings and queens did not marry for love and yet their kingdoms thrived under their rule.

“In that moment, I knew she would make for a great queen.” Kit said proudly. “Just not mine.”

You were quiet for a while, letting the soft brush of his thumb against your hand fill your senses. “I have seen how Louis and Princess Chelina are fond of each other,” you said casually, looking for his reaction.

He chuckled heartily before he kissed the top of your hand. “Fond? They are in love, much like you and I.”

Oh. You smiled, unable to name the way your heart filled with happiness for your dearest friend. It seemed as though his longing stares were not one-sided as you had thought.

Conversations halted when the food arrived. You were famished from not having enough food throughout the day, having eaten only tea and sweetmeats, that you did not wait for Kit to sample your food for poison. He only smiled affectionately at you as you attacked your meal with vigor. Louis arrived when you were half-way through with your meal, smiling as he commented on how ravenous you were. You decided to ignore how unladylike you looked as you ate.

“Have you had your dinner?” you asked when he settled beside his cousin, a cup of tea in his hands. There was a tiredness to his face and you recalled the letter Kit had penned, of Louis helping him with matters of the kingdom.

“It was like a state banquet, pet,” he replied, stretching his legs and crossing it at the ankles. “I dined with my uncle and the King and Queen of Zaragoza. The only topics of conversation had been politics and economics.”

You smiled.

He looked at the cup in his hand, swirling the liquid in it. “I confess I miss having tea with you. Kit is surly whenever we have tea and I cannot seem to get your concoction right. Mine are always bitter or too floral to the senses.” He crinkled his nose for added effect.

You chuckled. “Perhaps he is surly because your tea does not taste pleasant.”

“You do not have to mince your words around me. You can tell me it is horrid; I heard Kit say it so. I know I do not possess a prowess for tea blending.”

You smiled. “Only for tea drinking, I fear.”

Louis erupted into guffaws. “Oh, pet, it is nice to have you back.”

The conversation carried on until the rest of the night. You learned that Louis had taken the role of adviser to Kit while he took care of the kingdom’s business. The matters of the kingdom had increased in number since the start of the trial. The devastation the storm had wrought added more to the already waiting pile of work that was left by the king and his perfidious adviser. But Kit and Louis did not protest their work. They merely talked of it as though it were an everyday conversation topic.

They had asked of your opinion for some of them, asked how it had been in other kingdoms and lands and if their plans would benefit the people more than burden them. Your inputs were appreciated by them; often times they would turn to each other and exclaim that you had found the solution they were looking for. Your heart warmed at the casual conversation. As the night wore on, you found yourself blinking and yawning more than you had in hours. You fell asleep as they were talking of the mines and the gemstones.

The days that followed were mundane at best. Kit had gone before you awoke but he always picked a small bouquet to leave you, always with lavenders. Abigail had brought an embroidery project so you were not weary of the same days. You were able to finish two cushions in a week. For someone who thrived on travelling and meeting new people, your confinement to your bed was like a punishment. You were a creature of adventure; keeping you in one place was almost physically painful to you. The pains in your body had gone, leaving you only with scattered dull aches and healing bruises, mostly from the places where you had broken your fall. Your foot was healing as expected but it was still not strong enough to carry your weight.

Come dinner, you were often accompanied by Kit and Louis would arrive soon after, telling you of more stories he heard from the Zaragozan royals during their supper. The skies had turned for the better; no more storms and if there were rain, it was only a spray-like mist that often entered your open window.

On the very week after you had awoken, you promised yourself you would speak to the princess after you had your lunch. You were not in any position to snub royalty and you felt you must apologize for your atrocious behaviour towards her. You believed you were well enough to face the kin of the man who wanted you dead without feeling any anxiety.

Princess Chelina arrived in your chambers, looking as haunted as when you had first seen Kit when you awoke. The pallor of her skin worried you, as were the tearstains that tracked down her hollow cheeks.

“Miss Y/N.” Despite her appearance, her tone was happy and relieved. “I see you are faring better.”

“Your Royal Highness, please forgive my lack of curtsying. The physician warned me against using my foot and he would not have me out of the bed before it is healed,” you said.

You saw that she kept a respectful distance from you. You gestured for the chair nearest to your bed. “Please, Your Royal Highness.”

When she sat, you motioned for the tea set that was beside her. Abigail had poured and prepared everything for your conversation with the princess. “Tea, Your Royal Highness?”

She graciously declined the biscuits but nursed her teacup in her hands. She watched you expectantly, still as regal despite the sadness that lurked behind her eyes.

“You must forgive my reaction to your coming into my room, Your Royal Highness. I thought—”

She raised a hand and halted your words. She gave a gentle shake of her head. “You must not apologize. It is I—”

“But you are a victim as well,” you said, frowning.

“As were you.” She sipped the tea, turning to look at the cloudy summer sky. “My uncle, he did horrifying things to you and to Kit’s family. I could not apologize enough for his transgressions.”

“It was not your fault, Your Royal—”

She turned to you, a soft smile on her lips. “Please. You must call me Chelina.”

You paused to smile, nodding smally at her request. “You must not burden yourself with the sins of your kin, Chelina. It was not your doing. You were unaware that such a thing happened. I apologize for making the mistake of thinking you were involved in his plans.”

The smile she gave you was polite and one of absolution. “I feel terrible for what he’s done. It wasn’t right. And he planned to marry me to the prince only so he could control me.” You saw the shiver than ran through her frame. “He is hideous. I cannot fathom the darkness that goes through inside his mind.”

“It is one darkness I would not wish upon you,” you told her gravely. “You were lucky to escape his clutches.”

“I truly am sorry, Miss—”

“Y/N, please,” you offered.

“Y/N. I am sorry you had to endure those days in the well. I could only imagine the pain and suffering you had gone through.”

You swallowed the lump that formed on your throat. Your palms had started to sweat and you wiped them on your covers. You breathed evenly for a few moments, steadying your heartbeat that started to drum in your ears.

“Those days are gone now. I am found. He is in trial. All will be well in the end.” You told her. You reached for her hand and gave a squeeze. “If forgiveness is what you seek for his crimes, then I forgive you even if you have no fault on the matter. Forgive yourself, too, for the sins that are not your own.”

She squeezed your hand in return and gave you a grateful smile. Her shoulders lifted as if your pardoning her removed the heavy burden from her. But still, you knew in yourself that the tears she shed were not for her uncle. They were for another matter entirely. You would have asked if she had not spoken first.

“Why did you not tell me you were wed to Kit?” Chelina asked as she drank from her cup.

It was bound to be brought up, you surmised. “The king wanted us to be divorced. It would not have mattered if you knew because our marriage would have been dissolved before your wedding to him. It would have been a great scandal if the people knew.”

The soft clanging of the cup against the saucer was the only sound in the room.

“Why?” you asked her. “Why will you not marry Kit?”

Chelina gave a tired, mirthless smile and ran a hand down her skirts, straightening it. “The queen’s premature death was by my uncle’s hand. I do not think the people would take kindly to his niece being the kingdom’s future queen. I will be unpopular with them and I will not serve my purpose if they do not want me to lead and serve them.”

“All for diplomacy, then?” you asked. “Not because of a certain duke, particularly one from Granville?” you ventured.

She stiffened in her seat and the sadness that lurked behind her eyes now resurfaced. Her lips quivered as a tear rolled down her cheek. She drew a hand to her mouth to shield away how it trembled at the mention of your dear friend.

“I am to leave tonight, for Zaragoza.” she whispered brokenly.

“But you love him—”

“Love has no room for princesses.” The scorn in her tone reminded you of her uncle but whilst his was of anger, hers was resigned and a resentment of her stature.

The composed façade she kept upon her entrance had finally crumbled. Gone was the regal Princess of Zaragoza and in its place was another lovelorn woman, regretful and mournful of the love she was to leave. You knew how the heartbreak felt—knew of it firsthand—but for someone in her stature, you could only fathom that it hurt a hundredfold.

“He is not a prince. My father and my mother will not choose a mere duke for me. They will find another royal in desperate need of a wife and they will offer me,” she spat hatefully although you could hear the surrender in them. Her tears flowed now but she made no move to wipe them.

You could only nod, words evading you. You let her cry, gave her leave to show the emotions you knew she would only hide from her parents.

“Have you said your goodbyes to him?” you asked quietly after she stopped her tears.

“I cannot,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I cannot face him. I… I cannot bear to see the pain on his face.”

You reached for her hand again and gave it a squeeze.

“I do not want to see him lonely.” She closed her eyes briefly and a frown marred her features. “It is not like him, to be sad. He is the epitome of jolliness and carefree leisure. It would be unnatural to see any other emotion on his face.”

You gave her hand another squeeze, in agreement to her words.

“Do you think he will be angry at me for leaving without saying my farewells?” She looked at you now, eyes wide and tearful once more. “Perhaps it will make it easier for him to forget me if he is angry with me. Perhaps it would be easier for me if he hated me.”

You shook your head passionately, pained that she would even consider such thought. “No. No. Louis is nothing of that sort. He will only hurt but he cannot hate you. He will never hate on someone he loves.”

Her lips trembled once again but she held herself. “How would you know? You and he are good friends. I doubt there was a time you deliberately hurt each other.”

You smiled sadly at the memory of the moment he knew of yours and Kit’s marriage and pulled back from holding her hand. “Oh, I had. When I did not tell him his cousin and I were married, he felt betrayed. It was the angriest I had seen him but he never hated me. He understood why I could not tell him. He would be understanding to your plight as well.”

Chelina took a sip of her tea and replaced it on the saucer clumsily. She took a shuddering breath and when you thought she had finally composed herself, another tear fell from her eye.

“Still, I cannot bid him goodbye,” she whispered achingly. “I do not want to remember his face and be reminded that I had been the one who put the pain there.”

You only nodded your head, understanding her. You would have done the same if Kit had married Chelina. “I understand.”

She took another sip of her tea.

“Would you like me to convey your goodbyes?” you asked of her.

She shook her head. “I do not know what to say.”

You watched her, wanting to pity her but refrained from doing so because you knew she would not let you. You had not known the princess long—had been avoiding her so she and Kit may spend time to get to know one another—but you knew she would make a great friend. Chelina was loyal and kind. And Kit was correct; she had the makings of a great queen. You could only hope the prince her parents would choose for her was kind and loyal as she was. Or the prince they would choose was a duke instead.

She deposited the cup and saucer on the table beside you. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“What for?” you asked.

“For your kindness to me despite what my uncle had done to you.”

You gave a smile, heart clenching at the sad tone of her voice. “It was not your fault. You must not burden yourself with his sins.”

If she were trying to smile, it ended looking much like a grimace.

“Would it be amiss if I were to ask you to be my friend?” you asked her.

You watched the stunned look at her face before it softened into one of graciousness. “I would be honored to call you my friend, Y/N,” she said

Your smile turned brilliant, as did hers. There was an instant camaraderie in the both of you. “I promise I shall write to you when you leave. I hope my letters will make do until I am well again to travel.”

“I shall look forward to them.”

You talked of other things for the rest of the day, learning that there were similarities between the two of you. She would have loved to travel if given the chance to and you felt the passion she had for music in the way she spoke of it. She talked of other personal matters, thoughts and ideas she had not shared to anyone except to you, her new friend. You, in turn, shared your other secrets that were unknown to Louis or to anyone else. You conversed as though you were old friends, and as the day went on did you realize that the princess had never been given the chance to become this animated with anyone else.

Your conversation was only interrupted when the royal physician arrived. Princess Chelina bid you farewell—almost reluctantly, you noticed—and left with a promise to show you her kingdom when you were to go there.

Kit arrived for dinner the same time as he had everyday for the past week.  

“Did you know they were leaving tonight?” you asked as soon as he sat on his chair.

He did not need elaborating because there were only a handful of people who were bound to leave the palace that night. “Yes. It was decided when we talked to them a week past. The seas would be calm for them to travel safely.”

“Does Louis know?”

He paused. “No, I do not think so.”

You frowned. Surely, Louis would have heard talks of the Zaragozan royals’ leaving that evening. He would be privy to some gossip as he could charm anyone he wished.

“I heard you talked with Chelina earlier today.” Kit said as he took notice of the vase that held his daily floral pickings. You had not thrown any of the flowers he had given you, combining his old pickings with the new ones you had received earlier today.

“Yes, we both apologized to each other.” You replied distractedly, mind resolute on the matter. “Kit, Louis does not know she is leaving?”

He shook his head as he turned to you. “No. If he had, he would have mentioned it.”

“It will break his heart.” You almost saw how it would devastate him.

“I know.”

“He will be the surly one now.” And how unusual of him to be so!

“I know.”

“He would grumble and be insufferable about it.” Given how peeving he already was, it was no question how much more grumbly he would become.

“I know.”

You directed your grimace at him. “Kit, I cannot believe how nonchalant you are about this. He is your cousin. Have compassion on the man who is about to have his heart broken.”

He sighed, looking ruefully at you.  “Forgive me, my love. You must know that I do care for him. Will you believe me if I said I had tried all that I could to convince her parents that he will suit Chelina despite his lack of royal title?”

You sobered. It was wrong of you to assume Kit did not care for his cousin. You sighed as well, apologetic. “I only worry for him. You know how much I love Louis despite how vexatious he could be.”

He took your hand and kissed it. “Of course. You are each other’s dearest friends. But the King and Queen of Zaragoza are resolute. They only want her to marry royalty. I could only do so much in my power.”

You did not doubt of his words. Chelina had said as much during your conversation earlier that day. And you knew Kit, knew he would resort to pleading if he had to, for the sake of his loved ones’ happiness.

You curved your hand on his cheek and felt the prickling of a stubble that was forming on his chin. You had become bold in touching Kit, dashing propriety for the sake of comfort. You and he always sought each other after the end of every day and had been inseparable since. “I’m sorry I’m being churlish. I cannot help but worry for him. I haven’t seen him in love but now that he has, he’s chosen the forbidden one.”

“Our love was forbidden as well but the world has conspired to bring us together after it tore us apart.” He smiled and you ran your thumb against his lips. He gave it a little kiss. “But her parents are set on their decision. They cannot be swayed. I can only hope they will choose right for her.”

You nodded. One could only hope for the time being. You smiled at him, smoothing the tired lines beside his beautiful eyes. “How was your day?”

He leaned into your palm. “Quite the same. More matters that needed seeing. The miners are trickling back to their mining village and will be hard at work soon. Our trade with Prince Frederick’s kingdom is slowly coming to fruition. The trial is also progressing as it should.”

You smiled at his accomplishments then bit your lip when a thought occurred to you. “If I take up your time that you can use for business, I would understand—”

“No,” he said as he shook his head. “Never. I always look forward to the time I would be spending with you.”

“Kit…”

“I finish quicker whenever I think of sharing my evenings with you.”

“But still—”

He raised an amused brow at you. “Is this your way of saying you’ve grown tired of my presence?” he joked, grin impish.

You chuckled at the unexpected joke. Now, you saw how he and Louis were related. “Oh, no! Never! I would never tire of you. I would always want to be in your presence. And you are far less vexing than your cousin. I find he speaks a lot. I would rather have you than him or any other person after a long day.”

“Good. I would hate to compete against someone for your attention.” He kissed your palm again. “I am a jealous man, my love. I do not think I would take kindly to the other person who vies for your time and affection.”

“Then you are in good luck because there is no one else but you.” you told him with a smile.

The smile that came upon his face was beautiful and splendid.

When Louis arrived, there was nothing on his face that told you he had any idea of the princess and her family’s imminent departure. He only appeared his jolly self, bearing with him a tray of tea tins and a steaming pot of hot water. His entire demeanour was one of blissful ignorance and you loathe to be the source of his heartache. You kept silent on the matter.

Louis would understand, you thought, convincing yourself that you were only acting in his best interest. The charming duke had been understanding before with your predicament. How different would this be?

#richard madden x reader #prince kit x reader #prince kit #cinderella 2015 #cinderella #richard madden #richard madden x y/n #prince kit x y/n #marvel eternals #ikaris #ibiza netflix #leo west #leo west x reader #got #robb stark x reader #bodyguard netflix #david budd #david budd x reader #richard madden fic #richard madden imagine #the accidental princess #the accidental princess fic #beananacake writes

[imaslutforcuddles]

MAIN MASTERLIST

A/N: This is going to take a bit to complete, so hang on with me. Yes, i know i already have one but i don’t care. This one is going to be better. (gifs aren’t mine btw, i do not take credit for them at all.) I have requests available so PLEASE DO NOT BE AFRAID TO POP IN, SAY HI, OR REQUEST SOMETHING <3!!!!!! Some of my writing includes smut so i have a lil decoder for my singles :3

Smut:❤️ / Fluff:✿ / Angst:☆

RICHARD MADDEN

Mason Kane:

Nadia x Mason drabble ❤️

Robb Stark: 

Take you to hell ❤️/ ☆

Did something bad / two / three (i know it’s been awhile but it will be finished some day😭)

David Budd:

Enemy  ✿ / ☆

Ikaris:

Be good to me / two / three

JOSEPH QUINN

Eddie Munson:

Antsy ✿

Look after you ✿

Dumb Dumb ☆ / ❤️

Escapism ☆ / ❤️

CHRIS EVANS

Ari Levinson:

Run little bunny❤️ (coming soon!)

HENRY CAVILL

August Walker:

Vampire ☆

Geralt Of Rivia:

Shameless ( in progress )

SEBASTIAN STAN

- nothing here yet! 

This is the end for now! <3

#eddie munson masterlist #masterlist #richard madden #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #richard madden x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #richard madden imagine #david budd x reader #David Budd #robb stark smut #Robb Stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark x y/n #game of thrones #stranger things #bodyguard #The Eternals #Eternals #ikaris x you #ikaris x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #mason kane x nadia sinh #mason kane #Citadel #henry cavill #geralt of rivia

[ava-kedavra]

part fourteen: reacquaint

Pairing: Ikaris x Reader

Summary:  part fourteen of a fanfiction and they haven’t kissed yet? but don't worry folks shit is heating up in this one! after that we get a catch up, I'm always thinking about pizza and we find out some stuff y/n doesn't even know

Words: 2708

Warning: swearing, some nsfw shit 18+! What can I say I love the idea of face riding a tall good looking man that broods.

link to part thirteen

-

Ikaris closes the door by pushing you against it, and goes straight for your neck. He breathes in deep, inhaling your scent. 

His left hand grips the back of your thigh, holding you in place, while his right hand inches up your hip, slowly pushing your shirt up. The feeling of his fingers on your skin makes you shiver in anticipation. You snake your arms around his neck, and grip his hair.

“You alright love?” His accent is thick, but it’s more muffled by your jaw he presses his lips against, making you look at the ceiling. 

You nod, but he hums, “talk to me, Y/N.”

He moves his hand from your hip, and you go to protest, but he cups your cheek, “Y/N.”

You take a deep breath, “you feel good,” you say quietly, cheeks turning a bright red.

He gives you a grin, “you like how I touch you?” He asks you, and while his voice is soft, his words are not. 

His words send a rush of electricity straight to your core. You manage to make eye contact, and you know he can tell how his words affect you.

“I do,” you finally answer, biting your lip, “you make me feel good.”

“Love,” he leans in towards you, breathing the word onto you, “I always wanna make you feel good.” 

His accent is thick, and when you look into his eyes you notice they’ve darkened. 

“Will you let me do that?” He pushes his hips harder against yours, keeping you in place as he reaches his other hand up to cup your cheek.

“Hm?” he nearly cooes before leaning over and kissing your cheek.

“I’ve missed you,” he continues speaking as he leans over and kisses the other cheek.

“So much,” he adds on, going to kiss your forehead. 

You can’t take it. You move your head quickly to meet his lips with yours.

When your lips meet it feels like a circuit being completed. You feel the electricity move between the two of you warm and complete.

You pull away, opening your eyes to meet his own. 

“Y/N,” he whispers, “please,” he’s begging, but he doesn’t know what for.

You don’t say anything, instead you smash your lips against his.

This time, he kisses you back fervently. You're grabbing his hair, his cheeks, his shoulders, anything to steady yourself.

He’s grabbing your hips, rocking against your core against the door, causing you to arch your back into him.

He pulls his lips away from yours, before attacking your neck.

His arms snake around your back and he’s suddenly carrying you across the room, setting you gently down on the bed.

“Ikaris,” you sigh out, “kiss me” you reach out for him, breathless.

He complies, falling against you as your lips meet again. He groans against your mouth when you buck your hips into him and you smirk. You’re about to do it again when there’s a knock at the door.

“Ignore it,” Ikaris pants in your mouth. 

“Agreed,” you breathe out as you pull his hair, making him groan out. You take the chance to push him back onto the bed.

The knocking persists as you straddle him against the headboard.

“Ikaris! Y/N! Open the door!” The voice is muffled and indistinguishable as you rock your hips against Ikaris’ groin as you peck kisses along his neck.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, grabbing your hips to help you move. You grab at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it off of his body.

He lifts his arms up to help and when you sit back in his lap to look at him, you have to stop yourself from audibly moaning.

“Oh my god,” you mumble as you trace your finger along his collarbone.

He lets out a chuckle and places his hand over yours, moving it lower towards his v-line. 

“Like what you see?” He whispers, accent somehow thicker with arousal.

“Yes,” you immediately reply, your brain more focused on the feel of his hard-on under your palm. 

He presses his nose into your neck and you giggle. God you felt like a horny teenager. 

The door bursts open before you can even process it. You yelp from the intrusion, pushing yourself closer into your husband, trying to shield yourself.

Bucky strolls in unfazed, gun in hand with Phastos and Bruce behind me, “control yourselves, they’re ready to talk.” 

“What?” You turn your head, while trying to push Ikaris from your neck. 

He doesn’t budge, but just mumbles ‘no’ into your skin. You rest your hands in his hair and try to control your breathing. 

“Fitzsimmons are ready to talk,” Bruce informs, though uncomfortably from the doorway and looking at the ceiling.

“Great,” Ikaris replies, “now get the fuck out.”

You hit his chest, “Ikaris! We have to go.”

He raises his mouth to your ear, “not until I’ve had a taste of you,” he nips your earlobe.

Your face burns as you clear your throat, “everyone out we’ll be there in twenty.”

The door shuts quickly and you crash your lips into his again. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” you pant against his mouth as he starts to unzip your pants above him.

You lift yourself off his lap so he can pull your pants and underwear down, and when you sit back down on his cock he can feel your juices soak through his pants to his boxers.

“Shit love,” he groans, bucking up into you, “I wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Fuck me,” you pop his belt open and rip it off, before unzipping his pants. 

You giggle trying to pull them off, but finally manage with his help. He finds the bottom of your shirt and pulls it off your body, groaning at your bare chest. 

“Ikaris,” you pull on the band of his boxers, “please fuck me.”

He shakes his head, “we don’t have time,” before you can whine though, he’s kissing your lips, “don’t worry pretty girl, I’ll still make you feel good.” 

He grips your hips and slides you up his chest as he lays farther down into the pillows. He lifts his head up and takes a nipple in his mouth. 

“Fuck,” you moan out at the feeling of his toned abs on your clit, the friction making you dizzy. 

Ikaris catches onto your hip rolls, and moves his hands along on your hips, helping you. 

“That feel good?” His voice is quiet, but hoarse.

You nod, both hands on his chest as you rock against it.

“Here love,” he takes his mouth off you to move you further up towards his face.

Oh. 

You audibly whine when he grabs your ass in both palms, lifting you over his face. 

You sit up on your knees, hovering over him. 

“Are you sure Ikaris? You don’t have to,” you run your fingers through his hair. 

“Y/N,” he presses down on your thighs, making your knees fall. 

Fuck.

“Ikaris,” you moan back as he languidly licks the inside of your thigh, licking the excess juices from your core.

“Sit on my face, pretty girl,” he says, kissing each side of your thigh, before zoning in on your core. 

He presses a kiss to your clit that has you keening, putting your full weight onto your husband's head. He keeps you steady with one hand, as the other grips your thigh. 

The noises coming from his mouth and your own are obscene. You’re both fully moaning out, you into the air, but his moans send a vibration right into the bottom of your stomach, making you even louder. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you start rocking your hips against his face as he helps guide you with one hand, the other going up to squeeze the under side of your breast. 

“Fuck my face,” he mumbles into your core, flicking at your nipple. You barely hear him through the haze of pleasure, reaching down to grab harder at his scalp, your other hand steady against the wall. 

You feel sparks throughout your body, sending zaps through your fingers and toes. You feel your high approaching, but just need a little more. 

“Ikaris,” you’re just moaning at this point, barely able to rock your hips. He completely takes over your movement with one hand on your hip, the other reaching up towards your core.

He slides two fingers into your channel with no hesitation, and you can hear the slick noises as he moves them in and out. 

“Oh fuck,” you throw your head back, “fuck I’m so close.”

You feel like magic. 

“Fuck fuck shit,” you’re babbling at this point, but Ikaris keeps his speed up. His fingers hit right at your g-spot as he sucks on your clit.

You feel like electricity. 

He rocks you harder down onto his face, and you’re so so close.

“Ikaris,” you’re barely breathing, “I’m gonna- gonna”

“Cum for me,” he speeds up his fingers and you see stars.

You feel waves of pleasure as you gush against his mouth, arching your back, “fuck Ikaris,” you cry out as you ride your high out.

He continues to ministrations on your pussy until you’re trying to move off of his face, he finally relents and lays you on your back. 

“Ikaris,” you mumble out with a smile, “that was amazing.”

He pecks your lips, “I’m glad.”

You look down to see a large stain on his boxers. You look back up to his face to see his cheeks red. 

“I uh-” he starts to say, but you cut him off with a kiss.

“That’s so hot,” you say into his mouth, running your hands on his hard chest.

“You’re so perfect for me,” he says into your mouth before pulling away.

He kisses your forehead, “we should get going.”

You groan oat, stretching your arms, “you’re probably right,” you look around the room, “where are my clothes?” 

Ikaris gets up from the bed, opening a dresser drawer. He comes back to the bed with a fresh pair of underwear and black leggings.

You lift up the clothing, inspecting it, “are these mine?” 

He nods, and you furrow your eyebrows. 

“What is it?” He asks as you shrug the leggings on. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, still shirtless as you walk up to him, “I guess I was expecting something less modern.” 

“I still have all our old clothes from the years together,” he’s casual, grabbing a shirt to put on. 

You grab the shirt from him though, using your free hand to feel his chest.

“That’s sweet,” you say absentmindedly, tracing his sternum with the tip of your finger.

He breathes out, “yeah?”

You nod, “yeah,” before kissing him sweetly. Kissing him was addicting. His lips were soft, but firm against yours. 

“You keep kissing me like that and we won’t leave this room,” he warns, sliding his hands up your bare back. 

“Hm, sounds horrible,” you’re sarcastic as you press your chest against his.

“You’re eager,” his voice thickens as your nipples harden against him. 

“So are you,” you smirk, giving him a quick peck before stepping away, “what are my shirt options?”

-

“Is it appropriate to bring snacks to an interrogation?” You question aloud from your spot in front of the fridge. 

“I got blueberries from the farmers market,” Bruce chimes in, sitting at the counter with his laptop.

“We should be having dinner,” Bucky calls out from the dinner table, “I’m in the mood for pizza.”

“Wanda makes the best pizza,” you groan out in front of the fridge, spotting the blueberries, “the sauce is to die for.”

“Sokovian sauce is better,” Bruce agrees and you nod. 

You shut the fridge with your hip, blueberries in hand, and turn to Ikaris, “want a snack?” He smirks, “no, I already had one,” he kisses your cheek. 

“Yeah that tired me out,” you admit, and he hangs his arm over your shoulder, so you lean into him. 

“Hopefully not too tired,” he murmurs into your neck, “I’m not done with you.” 

You give him a quick kiss, and smile, “good.” 

-

After talking with Sam and Bucky, you decided that only a few people would be in the interrogation room. 

That would include you, Sam, Bucky, Ikaris, Phastos and Bruce. 

It was times like these that you missed Natasha. She was the best at this kind of thing. She could get the worst kind of people to talk in five minutes.

“Hey Natty,” you sigh, looking down, “I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

You sit down on the ground in front of the royal azaleas, “turns out I’m not who I thought I was.”

“Now I don’t know who I am,” you admit to the plant, “I don’t know if I really ever knew.”

“I’m married,” you state bluntly, “and I can fly and fighting aliens isn’t as big of a deal as we thought it was.”

You feel the flower between your fingers gently. “Fitzsimmons betrayed me,” you continue, “Morgan started kindergarten and Bucky has a cat.” 

“We knew going back in time had its risks,” you take a deep breath, “I just didn’t think I’d lose you when I did.” 

You sniffle, “and I know I can take comfort in the fact that you’re at rest,” you take a deep breath, “I just really miss you.”

You pause. 

“Natasha,” you start, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to trust,” you continue, “and I certainly don’t know what’s next.”

“I guess what I’m saying is that I wish you were here,” you say, “because you’d know what to do. You always knew what to do.”

“Even when it came down to life or death,” you say quietly, “you knew what to do.”

“And even if I do know what to do,” you let out a shaky breath, “what if I’m not strong enough?”

“You’re the strongest person I know,” you say, “or you were.”

You sniffle. 

“Give me strength Nat,” you whisper, placing your hands on the ground to lift yourself up, “I really need it.”

-

You make your way back into the interrogation room and take a seat between Ikaris and Sam.

“Hey,” you clear your throat, giving Ikaris a small smile.

“Hi love,” he greets, leaning back in his chair.

Bucky walks in soon after carrying a drink. 

He sets it on the table, and notices Ikaris’ stare.

You’re staring at your fingers in your lap, picking at them so he’s not subtle.

Ikaris nods towards the hall. 

Bucky takes the cue, leaving the room. 

Ikaris moves to leave too, but your hand on his shoulder stops him, “where are you going?” You ask, still sitting in the chair.

“I’ll be right back,” he kisses your forehead on instinct, “just gotta use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” you smile, turning to talk to Sam next to you.

Ikaris steps out and nods at Bucky.

“How’d you get them to talk?” He cuts to the chase, crossing his arms.

“You won’t tell her?” Bucky asks.

Ikaris shakes his head.

“I showed them the footage of Y/N in the lab,” he answers.

“Pretending to interrogate them?” Ikaris asks and Bucky nods.

“She was doing it for about five minutes before you walked in,” Bucky adds on.

“It’s a good idea,” Ikaris responds, “thank you.”

“I’d do anything for Y/N,” Bucky tells him, “she’s my sister.”

Ikaris nods, understanding the relationship between the two of you.

“Thank you,” he says again before making his way back into the conference room.

“Take the lead,” Sam offers you, “I’ll be there to keep you on track.” 

“Sounds good,” you respond. 

“Bucky will be back with them soon,” Sam tells you, “and then we can start.”

Ikaris takes a seat next to you, and you shoot him a smile.

“How are you feeling?” He asks gently in your ear.

“A bit nervous,” you whisper to him. 

He places his hand on the back of your neck for comfort, messaging it softly.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning in for a kiss. He guides your head with his hand, taking your lips in his. He kisses you deeply before pulling away, leaving you breathless. 

“Of course love,” he responds before the door opens.

-

THEY FINALLY FUCKING KISSED!!!

yes!!! I'm updating woohoo!

I'm sorry I take so long lol much love!

#marvel fic #eternals #eternals fanfiction #ikaris fanfiction #waywarddevotion #marvel x reader #ikaris x reader #ikaris angst #ikaris x you #ikaris imagine #richard madden x y/n #richard madden fanfiction #richard madden imagine #richard madden x reader #ikaris smut #richard madden smut #SMUT #LETS GOOOO #WE LOVE SMUT DON'T WE #YAY THEY KISSED!!

[bloody-vino]

Headcanon: Richard waiting for you hungrily at the door after a late night out

#richard madden smut #richard madden #richard madden x reader #ikaris #ikaris x reader #robb stark #robb stark x reader #david budd #bodyguard #david budd x reader #eternals #game of thrones #got x reader #game of thrones imagine #citadel #richard madden imagine #fan art #art

[raqnarokr]

Why'd you only call me when you're high?

Pairing || Ikaris x Original Female Character (Mia)

Summary || Mia loved Ikaris since the day she first saw him. And he liked her not in the way she did. But when he finally understood that, it was too late.

Word count || 757

Warnings & Contents || +18 content, Minors Do Not Interact, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcohol, Implied/Referenced Cheating, No Happy Ending, Break Up, Angst, Drama

Author's note || This is written in First POV and Dual POV and based on Arctic Monkeys song with the same title.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language, so my apologies for any misunderstandings or mistakes.

→ Marvel Masterlist

“Now it's three in the morning and I'm trying to change your mind”

Mia's pov:

3am. They say there's three types of people awake at this time: the one's who have insomnia, the one's who think this is the supernatural peak time and the heartbroken one's. I'm the last option. And you're helping breaking my heart once again. I have 10 missed calls from him. I send him a message. A clear one. I'm trying to change his mind. Things are not gonna work. Not now. Maybe a few months earlier would work. But after what happen? No way I would go back to him. I prefer being heartbroken than humiliate myself again.

[...] → read more here

★ Thank you for reading and visiting my blog! Feedback is highly appreciated through comments and reblogs 💌

★ Follow @raqnarokr-library to never miss any notification of my posts 🧚🏻‍♀️

#ikaris #ikaris eternals #eternals #ikaris x original female character #imagine #marvel fanfic writer #marvel #ao3 fanfic #writers on tumblr #richard madden #ikaris imagine #richard madden imagine #ikaris fanfic #ikaris x original f!character #Spotify #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #marvel angst #richard madden angst #ikaris angst

[luvinescent]

Entangled Fates

Pairing: Robb Stark x fem!Targaryen!Reader

Summary: The Targaryen name has brought nothing but misery to Y/N— her half-blood placing a curse upon her. She's observed the toll her presence takes on the people she loves; no longer wanting to form a close tie with anyone. Nevertheless, her heart steered its own course. And it steered towards a certain man.

Warnings: angst. allusion to r*pe and death, nothing descriptive. a steamy make-out scene but nothing crazy. not really book or show accurate but f it we ball. also fluff. also reader has dark hair so just pretend u do if u don't xoxo.

Word count: 10.1K (beginning just has lots of background lore pls bear w/ me)

In life, there are those destined for lavish living and those made to struggle to see their next day. From a young age, Dorea knew she fell into the second category. She grew up orphaned; never knowing the love of a mother or a father. Despite the fact, Dorea was strong willed; she found her own kind of love. Love for herself, love for her friends, and love for her life. She knows that she did not have the best life; her dresses had holes in them, she had to work from dawn to dusk, and she often would need to go days without eating. That ultimately changed the day a close friend of hers had come to her with a new line of work.

“One of the castles maids was executed, so her position is open to take”.

Looking back, she should’ve said no from the way a chill went up her spine. She had heard the rumors of the king having gone mad; but at the time, that was not her problem. Being a castle maid sounded a lot better than being a candle maker. All she had to do was clean the chambers and mind her business and pay would be given to her. The task sounded easy— it should’ve been easy. Dorea had ways of not drawing attention to herself. That is how she has made it this far in her life; from hiding. The peace of obscurity brought her comfort; being anonymous was a safe refuge that protected her from prying eyes and the entanglements of wicked connections. The girl was pure and innocent.

Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of irony, had other plans.

She truly had done all she could to stay out of the eyes of the royal family. She should’ve been more careful, more attentive, more aware of the eyes that followed her unknowingly when she walked the halls. Her foolishness had caught up to her one day when a guard had dragged her to the throne room; thrown to the ground to kneel in front of the king, Aerys II Targaryen. Dorea was ready to open her mouth and beg for forgiveness on whatever crimes she had committed but was silenced in fear. “You will meet me in my chambers tonight”, he said. Dorea could do nothing but nod as she could not go against the kings’ words. The only thing she could do was look to the Hand of the King for some form of help, but they stood muted. Moments later, she was whisked away by some female servants— some of them her own friends— and was prepared for the event. She was washed and dressed properly; never have been so physically clean yet so dirty internally.

Later that night, her virtue and gaiety of life was destroyed when the king came and took her. She had prayed to the Gods that it was only a one-time thing. But the Gods seemed to find her plea a joke. The king would request her presence many more times and many more nights afterwards. Her position as a maid in the castle vanished overnight. Now, she stood as something different; still, she did not know exactly what. All Dorea knew was she felt shame as those working in the castle started to treat her different, with more respect and caution. She dreamt every night for this nightmare to end, but it only continued.

“The girl is pregnant, your grace”. The maestar told the king. Both fear and relief spread through her body. Fear in the sense that the king would have her eliminated to hide such sin, and relief that he might just send her away forever. It had to be one or the other; from what she has seen, the queen is currently pregnant as well and due in a few moons. Furthermore, he already had two children born, why would he need her? Her thoughts were interrupted by the third alternative she had feared the most, “You will continue to stay here. You will have the child”. Later that night, Dorea prayed once more for all this suffering to end. Finally, her prayer had been answered in the worst way possible.

She had heard the talks of the rebellion, but she never thought it would come to where she resigned. The king’s heir was now dead, along with his wife and children. The queen was now dead; dying from childbirth. The middle child and newest member of the royal family had been sent to exile. And the Mad King was now dead as well; stabbed by a member of his own Kingsguard.

Death and misery surrounded Dorea everywhere.

For her own safety, and her chance once again at freedom, she did what she knew she had to do. She ran away.

Dorea took refuge in a small village that resided in the Reach. Selling all the gifts and jewelry the king had bestowed upon her; she and her unborn child were set for life. A few moons later, Dorea gave birth during a warm summer night. As she held the newborn in her arms, she thought the Gods had finally decided to take pity on her and grant her some kindness. For starters, she had given birth to a girl. Dorea was thankful in the sense that the child would not be seen as a threat to the line of succession of the Iron throne. Additionally, the babe had no features of a Targaryen. Caressing the small amount of hair on her daughter’s hair, she was given hair as dark as night instead of the silvery-gold feature of her biological father. Dorea let out a sigh of relief once the girl opened her eyes— no violet eyes either. Pulling the babe closer to her chest, she gave a quick prayer and smiled down at the sleeping babe.

Dorea named her Y/N.

As time passed, Y/N quickly grew before her mothers’ eyes. Both her and her mother were beloved by the village folks— Dorea giving money to those who were in need, and her daughter who was tenderhearted and befriended all. No one in the village had known about Doreas’ past or Y/N true linage. And Dorea wanted to keep it that way. She, however, knew that one day it would all come back to bite her. Despite having run away, she knew that there were some people who knew of their existence. It did not help her case more when Y/N had begun to show a great fascination with fire; something the mothers of the village made jokes about, but Dorea knew the truth.

“You have dragon blood within you”, Dorea had whispered to her daughter one quiet night. “You are part Targaryen, but you must keep this a secret. I am only telling you this for your own safety. There are people in this world who will want to hurt you, to take you away from me. Do you understand darling?”. At just the age of eight, Y/N was smarter and brighter than her peers. Hearing such solemness in her mothers’ voice, she nodded, “Yes mother”.

Such a topic was dropped and never brought up again— that was until Y/N turned ten. Since Dorea had the funds, she had hired a tutor for the young girl. Y/N’s instructor was a retired tutor who had taught many kids from noble homes before moving to their village. The old man was just supposed to teach her simple things like language, arts, music, and maths.  Without her mothers’ knowledge, Y/N brought up the topic of history to her teacher, particularly the history of the Targaryen household. And that’s where everything started.

It was one calm afternoon in their shared bedroom when Y/N had asked the question. “Mother, am I cursed?”. Dorea, puzzled, stopped brushing her daughter’s hair and turned towards her, “What kind of question is that?”. Y/N looked sheepishly to the side and confessed everything, “I have been learning history with my tutor. Targaryen history”. Before Dorea could respond, the young girl continued, “You say I am half Targaryen, and based upon their history, I must be cursed”. Dorea questioned what she meant and then let out a loud laugh at her daughters’ answer: “I have black hair mother”.

Dorea caressed her daughters face, smiling and shaking her head, “Darling, your hair color does not mean anyth- “.

“But its true mother!” Y/N exclaimed, “It is shown all over their history. Rhaenyra Targaryen’s eldest sons were born with dark hair, and they all died before they could reach adulthood. Rhaenys Targaryen was known as the “Queen Who Never Was” and saw the death of her two children in her lifetime. Rhaegar Targaryen’s daughter was killed in the sack of Kings Landing. Valarr Targaryen was- “.

“What does any of that have to do with you?!”, Dorea shouted out, startling Y/N. The young girl felt tears come to her eyes as she hid herself in her mothers’ embrace, muffling her words, “They were not pure Targaryen. I am not a pure Targaryen, mother. I do not wish to fall to such misfortunes”. Dorea felt her heart break at the sound and thoughts of her daughters’ troubles. Shaking her head, Dorea raised Y/Ns’ head and looked straight into her eyes, “You are not cursed. Their misfortunes are not yours. Do you hear me girl? This is your life, and you control it”. Y/N could do nothing but continue to cry. "It's okay, sweetheart," her mother whispered, her voice a tender melody that carried reassurance. Dorea cradled the young girl, whose sobs softened but still lingered, the remnants of a storm that had raged within her fragile heart. “I will protect you no matter what”, she declared.

Y/N would forever remember that loving moment, amongst the many others she shared with her mother. While Dorea had said she would do anything to protect her, Y/N should’ve said the same thing back. Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of irony, had other plans for the daughter. Not even a month later, Y/Ns’ mother died, succumbing to a mysterious illness that took her in a matter of days. It felt as though the moment she acknowledged the said “curse”, her world only came to be filled with hurt.

Being only ten years old and now orphaned, the people in the village were kind enough to take the girl in. Specifically, it was a family of three that consisted of a father and mother and a son her age who took her into their home. The boy, named Tomas, had always been a close friend of Y/N. The two would spend many days together, playing and running around in the meadows. He would pick flowers for her and in return she would do the same. There was even one early morning when the two stood by their village’s lake and shared a kiss with each other. Despite still being a child, Y/N felt as though she was feeling the love that was described in the fairytale stories her mother used to read to her.

Sadly, that love was taken from her as well. At the young age of one and three, Tomas had somehow fallen and drowned in that same lake. Y/N had never heard such a devasting scream as Edith, Tomas’s mother, held her dead son in her arms. The village was both in mourning and in query; Tomas had been taught to swim at the age of four, how could this have happened? No explanations were thought of, but Y/N had her own belief.

I’m cursed, she would toss in turn in her bed at night, I am cursed.

Two more years would pass by, and no other unfortunate incidents would have occurred. But there is always calm before the storm. One day, something within Y/N had made her go explore the small forest that was near her village. It was nothing out of the ordinary; she had done it many times before. Yet, she stayed exploring for hours before that same voice within her told her to return. Upon seeing her village within the distance, Y/N should’ve never listened to that voice. She wishes she could’ve stayed back and continue being ignorant of everything. Her village— the homes, the crops, the trees, everything, was up in flames. Running down the dirt paths, Y/N did not have time (nor did she want to) to acknowledge all slaughtered men, women, and children that laid on the grounds. A small amount of hope had sparked within her when she saw that her home was not ablaze. That hope died upon entering the residence— Y/N crying out in distress at the sight of Edith, the women she had come to see as her second mother, dead on the ground. Her sadness was turned to fear when she spotted a large man in the corner, angry and hungry for blood. Before the crazed man could run at her, he was tackled to the ground by Lance— Edith’s husband and her adopted father. He was clearly injured; covered in blood from head to toe but still had the strength in him to scream at Y/N, desperation laced in his voice, “Run girl! Run and do not look back!”. Y/N, not wanting to witness his clear end, quickly listened to his order and ran out the door, trying her best to stay out of sight of all the other savage men as she made her way out the village.

She must’ve ran for hours before she knew she was no longer in danger. A day or two of traveling passed by before she took residence in a small city. That same night, under a dirty bridge, she finally acknowledged all hell that had occurred to her within the past forty-eight hours. The dams broke as she cried and screamed out in sorrow and pain. She cried, and cried, and cried until she had no more tears to let out; now consumed by numbness. Her mother, her first love, her caretakers, her childhood friends, her home; had all been taken from her. What had she done to deserve this? With her heart broken into millions of pieces, Y/N decided that she wouldn’t live like this. Never would she fall in love and never would she form a deep connection with anyone again. She wasn’t going to let herself be tied to the Targaryen name, to its blood, nor its curse. She wasn’t going to let this curse win and see her suffer again.

And so, she did; well, she tried her best at least. With the little money she had on her, Y/N jumped from village to village, city to city, and made sure not to socialize with anyone. There were some instances of people trying to get to know her, boys trying to court her, but she wouldn’t stay very long and would be gone the next day. It was a lonely life, a life she despised but knew she had to endure. That changed a bit when she came face to face with a woman with a fair complexion and silver hair.

Daenerys Targaryen. The “Mother of Dragons”. Her older half-sister.

Daenerys had always known about her half-sister’s existence; her older brother one day rambling that the throne belongs to a true Targaryen and not the current usurper, nor the “Targaryen-bastard filth” their father left behind. At first, Y/N was wary of the girl but soon found herself becoming fond of her presence. Daenerys felt the same way; with no family left on either girl’s end, they quickly found solace in each other— treating one another as the sisters they are. It was strange at first for Y/N; getting used to now having family once again and the companionship of dragons that came with it. Initially, she was terrified at the sight of the foreign creatures but quickly came to love them and their beautiful nature. She became quite close with the one called Rhaegal, favoring the dragon over the overs. Rhaegal doted and protected the girl the same; but still recognized Daenerys as its’ rightful mother. Y/N could say she just held the title of “favorite aunt” now amongst the creatures.

The thought of the curse still weighed heavy in the back of her mind, but Y/N hypothesized that whatever superstition was out to get her would not harm her sister; a true (and last) Targaryen. Y/N immediately recognized Daenerys as her queen and vowed to help her reclaim her throne. For some time, Y/N felt happiness once again entering her life as she spent more time with her sister and her allies. That bliss, however, turned out to be false hope.

“When the time comes and I reclaim my throne, I will legitimize you as a Targaryen”, Daenerys spoke to her one night. Y/N wanted to decline right away; she was content with not having a household name and did not want to be associated with the Targaryen name. Before Y/N could speak, Daenerys looked shamefully down while holding her sister’s hand, “There is a reason why I came looking for...”. Y/N felt a chill run up her spine and quickly encouraged the Mother of Dragons to continue. “I am unable to have my own children. When the time is right, I will need you to find a man, any man of your choosing..”, Daenerys sternly said as she looked into Y/N eyes, “I will need an heir to inherit the throne and continue my family name. Do you understand sister?”. Daenerys felt guilt creep up inside her as she finally confessed her true intentions from the start of meeting Y/N. She was asking too much of Y/N but, she, however, was on a mission to reclaim her birthright no matter what. Y/N stared agape at her, no words coming from her mouth. She wanted to decline even more— but, looking into Daenerys eyes, she saw the graveness within them and the true tone behind her words. She was not asking this of her as her sister. She was commanding this of her as her queen. And Y/N would do anything for her rightful queen.

“Yes, sister. I understand”. Y/N now found herself tied to the Targaryen name. Something she vowed never to be but couldn’t escape.

As time passed by, Y/N kept her promise and stood by Daenerys side as she continued her conquest; now finding herself at Dragonstone, her sister’s ancestral home. The preparations and campaign for Daenerys claim to the Iron Throne was in full effect but was interrupted momentarily.

“The King in the North?”, Daenerys questioned one of her advisors who came bearing news. “Yes my Queen. He sent a raven— detailing that he wishes to speak with you”. Y/N, standing off to the side, expressed her thoughts and question, “I had heard that the King in the North was dead”.

“As did I”, Daenerys said sharply. The man before them nodded his head, “Yes. There was an incident that had occurred that made everyone believe he was dead. But he is very much alive”. Daenerys raised her eyebrows up, skeptical about this so called “King in the North”— “And he trusts me with the information of his false death?”

“Well, according to his letter, yes.”

Y/N and Daenerys turned, staring into each other’s eyes, speaking with them. Not much emotion was shown behind Y/N eyes, but she was able to express with them, “What harm is there in seeing what he wants”. Sighing, Daenerys nodded her head and agreed with her sister.

“Send a message back. Invite him here and let him know I agree to speak with him”.

A few days later, Y/N stood on the shores, waiting to welcome her guests on the request of Daenerys. Once she saw the boats pull up on the beach, she made her way but stopped in amazement. Out from one of the boats came a large, thick furred animal— a dire wolf. She had only ever heard about the mythical creatures and now she was in close distance with one. Dragons and now dire wolves; she held a small smile on her face at the uniqueness that was the world. Clearing their throats, the two guards behind her had snapped her out of her daydream, reminding her of the task. Standing tall, Y/N put on her best welcoming smile and stood in front of the party, “Welcome to Dragonstone. I have been sent by our rightful Queen to give our greetings”.

Y/N voice had started loud and clear, but slightly quieted down towards the end as she made eye contact with a man. A very handsome man to be exact, she thought to herself. He stood tall and strong, a lean build with dark curls and blue eyes as blue as the water behind them. He smiled at her and before he could open his mouth, the older man next to him spoke up. “I present Robb Stark. Heir to the Stark household and King of the North”. Y/N raised her eyebrows at the discovery of the handsome stranger being the King in the North. Turning to him, she held a sort of mischief but harsh attitude in her voice, “Is the King in the North unable to speak for himself?”

The men in front of her were clearly taken back. Except for Robb Stark who let out a small laugh. “Forgive me, my lady, I am very capable of speaking. I am Robb Stark”. He held out his hand and was charmed when she firmly grasped it and shook it; opting out of giving her his hand to kiss.  

“I am not a lady. Please, call me Y/N”. Robb was preparing himself to compliment her name but was cut off by the same man next to him. “She’s the Targaryen bastard, your grace”. Though it was meant to be a whisper for only Robb to hear, Y/N was in close enough proximity to have heard it as well. Robb swiftly turned to his advisor next to him, giving him a crude look before turning back to the girl, “Forgive the rudeness of- “

“No, it is quite alright” she waved her hand, “It is all true anyway. I am THAT Targaryen bastard”. Robb nodded, gulping as he tried to ease the tension, “I have heard a lot about you...and your sister too, of course”. Y/N wanted to let out a chuckle at the sight before her; a gorgeous man trying his best not to insult her. “And I have heard very little about you,” Y/N voiced, “Other than the fact that you were supposedly dead, which I can see you are very much alive”, looking him up and down with her eyes. Robb smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, “It is a long story”. Y/N let out a “hmm” sound, looking off towards the side to the dire wolf. “Is he yours?”

“Yes. His name is Grey Wind. I’ve had him since he was a pup”. Y/N nodded once more, noticing just how well behaved the wolf was, “He’s very beautiful”. Robb thanked her for the compliment, grinning widely, “I can see you are fond of animals. Do you have any of your own?”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head, “No. I have children.”

Robb was clearly taken back by her words, a stuttering mess as he questioned her statement. “O-oh? You have children?”. Y/N could sense some disappointment in his voice towards the end as it cracked. Smiling, she shook her head. “No. But I do consider them children. Just not mine. I am just an aunt”. All the guests in front of her were puzzled by her words but ducked down in fear at the sound of a roar from above. Looking up, she smiled at the sight of Rhaegal and Drogon patrolling the skies.

“Seven hells!” she heard one of Robbs’ men yell out. Turning back, she playfully spoke “My children. Beautiful, aren’t they?”. None of Robbs’ men were able to agree or speak; still in shock. Robb, still looking up to the sky, laughed earnestly, “Well, they sure are an eccentric sight to see”. Y/N smiled more at his honesty, clapping her hands together, turning and speaking to the entire party, “Well. I believe that is a sufficient way to welcome you all here. Now, I must welcome you into the castle. Please come, the Queen is curious to known what it is you wish to speak about”.

Upon greeting the Queen, Robb Starks’ words and terms were clear to her. He wishes to ally with her in her conquest to take the throne and create a fairer and just realm. “We both have a clear enemy,” he spoke, “I want the Lannisters dead for what they have done to my family, and you want them off the throne entirely”. Every so often, Robb would cast his eyes off to the side to look at Y/N; something she tried her best to hide her reddening face from. “My men, though small numbers, will be yours to use. We ask that in return, once you take your rule, you allow the North to maintain a degree of self-rule. We will recognize you as the rightful Queen, but we wish to keep the North the way it is”. Daenerys nodded her head, asking her advisors for their views on the matter, and taking Y/N by surprise when she asked her as well. “As I perceive it, the North is biggest land piece in Westeros. It would be better to keep them as allies instead of fighting them off. They recognize you as Queen, and the Stark household keeps the North in check for you, sister”. Daenerys responded with another nod, showing to be clear in thought at all the opinions given to her. The Queen stood up, still not fully convinced, but could not deny all the positives of the compromise, “Very well. I will continue to think about the matter. I will let you know that my thoughts are leaning more toward yes than it is no. For now, your men must be tired. Allow my people to escort them to rest”.

Later that night, Y/N made her way down the dark halls to the one place in the castle that brought her peace. She almost let out a small scream at the tall shadow that appeared around the corner, “My lady?”. Placing her hand to her chest to control her tachycardic heart, she saw that the dark shadow was Robb Stark. “Your grace. You almost scared me to death”, Y/N laughed, “And please, I am not a lady of noble birth. Call me by my first name”. Robb returned her laugh with his own, apologizing for scaring her. “Forgive me, my lad- Y/N. I was just curious as to why you are out so late”. She nodded her head in the direction she was originally heading in, “I can not sleep so I was heading to the library to bore myself with some reading” she joked, “Is it not late for you to be awake as well?”. Robb gave a similar answer; unable to sleep and practically full of energy. Y/N looked down at the ground for a mere second before glancing into his eyes, “Would you like to join me?”. He agreed to her invite, thankful for the darkness of the night hiding his blushed face.

Dimly lit by flickering candlelight, the shelves towered, laid with books that held centuries of knowledge and wisdom. Robb made himself comfortable at one of the chairs available while Y/N opted for the window nook. “Do you come in here often?” Robb asked. Y/n offered a silent yes, trailing her fingers against the rim of the book she had chosen, “I have not been here that long, but yes. I come here every night; I tend to have trouble sleeping”.

“Why is that?” Robb questioned.

“Nightmares”, Y/N replied. Her dreams were always filled with visions of her dead loved ones.

After a pause, Robb gave a “hmm”; silently admiring the girl for not being afraid to show vulnerability. “That’s something we both have in common” he gave a warm smile. Another quiet pause passed by until Y/N looked up at him, “You say that you being alive is a long story— can I listen to it?”. Robb gave a slight nod, standing up to sit next to her in a close but comfortable proximity.

“I was to marry the daughter of someone who I thought was my ally. I agreed initially but something within me told me not to carry out my word”. He slowly reached over for the book that was in her hands, both hands brushing slightly as he took it out of her grasp, now distracting himself with it. “The wedding still went on; I supplied another man in my place. But, there was bloodshed, and I was betrayed. I barely made it out alive, along with a few other men of mine”. Inhaling sharply, he continued with his outpour, “And I’m thankful I did. I have sources that tell me that even if I went along with the wedding, I was to be killed no matter what. The Lannisters long ago forming allies with the people I thought I could trust”. Coming close to a finish, he looked into Y/N eyes, softly smiling, “I guess it was fate that saved me somehow”.

Breaking eye contact, Y/N scoffed at his words. “Fate” she said with repugnance. Her reply caught him off guard, raising his eyebrows in surprise, “You do not believe in fate?”.

Y/N took in a long sigh, shaking her head, “No I believe in it”, she gently whispered the last part, “We just never have seen eye to eye. My fate only brings me bad luck”. Robb took in her words, trying to calculate what he should say next. “I believe fate can bring both good and bad luck”, he began with, “One can say it was my fathers’ fate to have been killed, or my sisters’ fates to be held captive”, Robb swallowed thickly before continuing, “But, it is my fate to avenge and save them. It is fate that has brought me this far; that has brought me here and to you”, he slowly spoke while staring deep into Y/N eyes. She quickly looked away, hoping her face wasn’t red and was successful in controlling her facial expression. Clearing her throat, she spoke firmly, “You must be confused; I believe you are trying to woo the wrong sister, Stark. Is it not my sister who you need as your ally?”.

Robb let out a low laugh, grinning widely, “That may be true, but”, he slowly scanned the room in a playful manner, “I believe that I don’t see your sister in here at all. So, no, I am not confused. I am speaking to the right sister”. A third pause passed by as the two continued staring, wating for one of them to speak or do something. Y/N was the first— standing abruptly, she moved her hair behind her ear and let out an awkward ahem. “I believe I must retire for the night. It was nice speaking to you Stark”. Before she could make her way out the door, he called out to her.

“It’s Robb”. Turning, she questioned what he meant. Smiling, he spoke, “You can call me Robb. You say you come here every night?”. Y/N nodded her head. “Would you allow me to see you here again tomorrow? Or even spend some time with you come morning?”.

Y/N wanted to say no. She needed to stop whatever friendship (or relationship) was forming between the two before she got too close. Before her curse got to him. He had already suffered enough. Despite the fact, deep down, her own selfish desires won over. She hadn’t felt like this in forever— she wanted this feeling to last forever.

“Yes. Of course, Robb”.

Come morning, they spent the entire day together, including the night. The next day was the same. Daenerys had granted Robb and his men a longer stay as there was much to discuss. It was late in the morning that he and Y/N were walking along the shores, discussing the most random of topics. Both were making a great effort to make the other one laugh: sprouting different jokes and funny stories. They both loved hearing the sound of laughter coming out of each another’s mouths. A gentle breeze roamed the air, blowing through Y/Ns’ dark hair. Robb stood silently still, stuck in a daze and awestruck by her appearance. Swiftly, he removed his fur cloak and placed it upon her exposed shoulders. Robb gestured to the area around them as Y/N looked at him in confusion, “I thought you might be cold”. She let out a small chuckle, shaking her head but not returning his cloak back. It provided her with a sense of ease. “No,” she confessed, “I don’t run cold that easily”. Resuming their walk, Robb gave her a look of admiration, “You would do great in the North then. Have you ever been there?”.

She answered with a clear no, stopping in her path to match Robb’s sudden cease of movement. Slowly, he placed his hands upon the cloak, further wrapping it securely around her. “I believe you would love it there. Maybe one day, you can come with me to Winterfell. I would love to give you a tour and introduce you to my mother, and hopefully my sisters too. I’m sure they would love you”. No further sounds were made; the distant sound of crashing waves serving as the only soundtrack to their wordless communion. Y/N leaned slightly into him — his closeness felt like a forbidden sanctuary, a place where she found solace and belonging but knew she shouldn’t enter. Y/N only response was a gentle nod and smile.

Many heart-fluttering moments continued to happen between the two. Stolen glances from across the table, hands brushing as they took their walks, laughter and smiles shared in the dark of night. There was an occurrence in the library when Robb had urged the girl to go to bed; taking notice of her eyebags forming from their long night of talking. “I can’t go to sleep that easily. And even if I can, I just have bad dreams I can’t wake up from”, she disclosed. They sat intimately close, sharing an intense gaze, both their features illuminated by the light of the candles in the room. Y/N could see every detail, every pore, every small scar that graced his beautiful face. She was caught by surprise, her breath hitching when he gently grabbed her hand, drawing small patterns into it.

“You can sleep here if you wish. I will watch over you and wake you at any sign of discomfort”. She wanted to decline, but there was something in his eyes that was persuading her. Y/N then found herself in his warm embrace, laying her head gently on his chest. She could hear every breath he took, every beat his heart made. Sealing her eyelids, he was the sole occupant of her dreams. She had never slept better.

Daenerys was no fool to what was happening before her very eyes. Sharing a private dinner with her sister, she brought up the topic.

“So, you and the Northern have been spending some time together”. Y/N nodded; not being able to lie since there was clear evidence in front of Daenerys. “He is a good man,” she smiled, “Very kind to his men, to his wolf”, she smiled even further at the memory of Robb introducing her properly to Grey Wind. She could still hear his laughter and the concern that replaced it when Grey Wind had tackled her to the ground with wet kisses. “We don’t want to get that pretty face all slobbered up now, do we?” fondness had colored his expression as he helped her back up. The smile upon her face slipped away, a frown and more serious look taking over.

“He’s very kind to me…I don’t think I will be spending much time with him anymore though”, she held her fork tightly in her hand. Daenerys questioned what she meant by her words. “Personal reasons”, Y/N said in a somber tone, “He will be leaving soon, and I plan to stay by your side”. Daenerys nodded her head, a part of her knowing that Y/Ns’ excuse was not the full truth. It’s not an exaggeration— Daenerys wasn’t a fool. She was well aware of Y/N’s standoffish attitude; practically a hermit as she kept to herself, or Daenerys. She saw the reasoning behind it— having an understanding of her past hardships. Additionally, Daenerys once tried to comfort Y/N during a nightmare of hers, hearing the word “curse” coming out of her mouth every few seconds. She badly wanted to comfort her sister, let her know that she was not cursed— life was just not fair to everyone. Daenerys, however, said nothing. Y/N was the only family she had left, and she did not want to lose her so soon, especially to some man. Forcing a smile upon her face, Daenerys tried to hide the distaste she felt towards her own selfishness. “That is good. Family must stick together”.

As the hours slipped away, Y/N and Robb were spending their last night together in the library. Robb and his men were set to leave tomorrow— all discussions and plans made with Daenerys were finalized. Robb, sitting across the room, was enamored as Y/N read to him out loud. It was a couple nights ago that they created this little routine; Y/N would read to him, and he would give his input at certain scenes. Right now, however, he was not paying attention to what was happening in the story. He was trying to memorize her gentle sweet voice, the way her lips moved with each syllable she said. Finishing a passage, Y/N put the book down to ask Robb his view.

“I can not lie to you. I was not paying attention”. Mouth agape, she pretended to be upset, throwing the small pillow she had next to her. Robb caught the cushion, letting out a hearty laugh that rumbled deep within his chest. Standing up, he walked across the room to her, placing the pillow behind her back. He knew she liked to read in comfort. Y/Ns’ smile was warm, spreading even more across her face at the words Robb spoke next, “You have a pretty voice”. Shyly looking down, she quietly thanked him. Robb’s compliments towards her only continued, “And a beautiful face”.

Biting her lip, she was readying herself to change the topic, but he only continued more. “I remember when I saw you for the first time”, he sat down beside her, sharing body warmth now, “I truly thought I had never seen a more beautiful woman before in my life”. Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes softly and replying in a joking matter “And then you saw my sister and I was the second most beautiful woman you had seen in your life”. Her heart quickened up when she looked up at him, no humor present on his face, only showing seriousness. “No”, he whispered, “you were still the most captivating and breathtaking beauty I’d seen”. Silence filled the room. Without a word, he reached out, his fingers interlacing with hers. “I leave tomorrow”, he spoke of the one thing they both had refused to acknowledge. “That you are”, Y/N said, her main focus placed upon their hands. Drawing small comforting circles into her skin, he asked her what she had planned for her future.

“My future is a mystery”, Y/N sighed heavily, “Regardless, I will continue to stand by Daenerys and be with her when she retakes the throne. She told me that she was going to bestow the Targaryen name upon me, but I’m not sure that is what I want”. Confusion etched Robbs’ features, questioning her meaning. Her face gave away a gloomy look, “I have never really been fond of my Targaryen blood. Daenerys is the only good thing that has come out of it”, she said truthfully, “I’ve gone long enough without a household name, so I don’t see the point in having one”. A smile graced her lips as she looked at him, “I won’t lie, it is a small yearn of mine. To belong somewhere and become a part of something special”.

A pregnant pause filled the room. The only sound being heard was the burning of the fireplace. Y/Ns’ laughter echoed through the room; Robbs’ next statement finding humor within her.

“You can become a Stark”.

Shaking her head, almost wanting to wipe the imaginary tears in her eyes, she continued her fits of giggles. “And how can I do that- “

Robbs’ next sentence caused all laughter within her to cease, her breath getting stuck in her chest. “By marrying me”, he said.

Another pregnant pause. Y/N stared at him in shock, becoming a stuttering mess, “R-Robb, I…”. Before she could finish, he cut her off, taking both her hands into his now, “I plead that you allow me to speak first”, he smiled but looked ready to cry, “I have never felt the way I have when I am with you. You truly have stolen my heart, and I don’t plan on asking for it back. Come with me to Winterfell— become my wife, my queen”. With affection, he raised her hand and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on it, “Grant me the wish to spend the rest of my life with you”. Robb had poured his emotions out into his speech, mistakenly only imagining what he wanted her reply to be. He was not prepared for what Y/N said next.

“No.”

Furrowing his eyes, he dropped one of her hands but still held the other. Shaking his head, he began to apologize profoundly, “I-I’m sorry. I thought maybe there was something between us. Did I ask too soon?”, he looked desperate in front of her, “I can take back the proposal. I can court you properly if that is what you wish – “

“No. No, Robb”, Y/N let her hand drop from his, both now becoming colder by the second, “I can’t marry you”.

The tension crackled in the air as Y/N words hung between them, heavy and unresolved. The room felt suffocating, each second stretching into an eternity. Robb’s jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the ground, struggling to contain his emotions and appear unaffected, “Can I ask why?”. Y/N bit her lip, her own emotions consuming her, never wanting more than to cry. “Robb,” she sobbed, “marrying me— being with me would only bring you hell”. Shaking his head, Robb grabbed ahold of her face, staring into her eyes, “What nonsense do you speak of? That can be far from the truth”. Y/N wanted to push his hands off her but was brought warmth by his touch, “But it’s the truth. My presence alone carries a curse. All those I have cherished have been harmed and taken from me”, he delicately removed the tears that were dropping from her eyes, “I’m not supposed to fall in love with you”.

Robb didn’t know what to say, how exactly to comfort her. His only reply being, “there is no such thing as a curse”, which angered her to some extent. Standing abruptly, she screamed out in sorrow, “Yes there is! My mother, my first love, my home— everyone suffered because of me!”, she started hyperventilating, burying her face in her hands, sobs echoing through the room, “You have suffered enough Robb. I do not wish to cause you more misery”. Robb sprang up quickly and encircled her with an arm, drawing her in for a reassuring embrace. As she cried, he felt her body quiver against his chest. He rubbed her back in gentle circles, giving her a feeling of comfort and safety. “Shhh…”, he tried soothing her, “Even if there is a curse, I won’t let it get to me, or you. I will protect you with entire life; you will never be subjected to such pain”, he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her head, “I can’t let you go— living out the rest of my life thinking “what if?”.

Shaking her head, she gently pushed him away, “No, Robb”. Y/N stared at him, her eyes reflecting her inner sadness, “This is for my protection and yours. I would not have the strength in me to live if something happened to you”. Walking swiftly towards the door, she ceased her movements when Robb called out to her.

“Y/N. You deserve better”, he spoke truthfully and with sorrow, “You can’t live like this. Someone as extraordinary as you deserves to be happy. To be loved”.

She gripped the door handle, almost hurting her own hand from the pressure. Turning her head, she offered him a pained smile, “Maybe you’re right”, she opened the door, “But such fine things were not made for me in this lifetime”. And she was gone.

Y/N was unable to sleep the rest of the night, tossing and turning in her bed. Come morning, she mentally prepared herself for a conversation she knew she had to make. Standing in front of the chamber rooms Robb occupied, she knocked. A few seconds later, he opened the door, clear surprise on his face at her presence.

“Hi”, she spoke softly. Robb did not verbally reply to her greeting; opting to nod to her instead. “May I come in?”, she asked, and Robb moved to the side to allow her to enter. Looking at him, his tunic was unlaced— a clear indication she had interrupted him in the middle of dressing up. Y/N was informed that Robb and his men were to leave early morning; all they had to do was suit up and prepare their ships, and then he would be gone.

Facing him entirely, she gestured to his packed supplies in the corner, “I came to wish you a safe journey. I enjoyed our time together”. Robb registered her words, taking a deep breath, “Thank you, my lady”. She didn’t have the strength to correct him. All the while, Robb was struggling to tie up the last laces of his tunic. His hands were shaking. Walking slowly to him, she reached for his hands, moving them away to replace them with hers, “Allow me”.  Robb felt a fire ignite inside him as her gentle touch sent a chill down his spine. Focused on her work, Y/N laced up the complex pattern, her breath quickening as her fingertips touched his bare chest. Finishing up the last lace, she patted his chest and smiled up at him, “There. All done”. She only took one step back before Robb wrapped his arm around her waist, pushing her back to him. Y/N gaze softened, a silent acknowledgement passing between them. Slowly and hesitantly, she placed her hand upon his cheek, caressing him. Stretching her neck, she placed a small kiss on his lips, pulling away in mere seconds before either of them could comprehend it. Robb did the same; the two now sharing their second kiss.

For a while, they stood in each other’s embrace in silence. Robb took the next step, closing the small distance and cupping her face in his hands. With a mixture of yearning and desire, she leaned into his touch, gazing up at him as her heart ached. Reaching down, he kissed her with longing and tenderness. Y/N reciprocated right away, moving her mouth with his to match his rhythm. This kiss was longer, both wanting to savor the moment a bit more. The kiss had started off slowly but quickly came alive as they both deepened it. Robb fingers wove into her hair, pulling her closer to him; despite being as physically close as possible. Y/Ns’ body felt on fire; Robb’s touch both gentle yet firm as he traced her body with his other hand. Gasping into his mouth, she was taken by surprise (but did not fight off) at Robb picking her up by the thighs— walking to the small table in his room and dropping her on it. Opening her legs widely, he stood between them, both breathing heavily as they’re lips continued pressing together. Y/N did not know what to do with her hands, moving them all across his body and landing upon his hair, tugging slightly at his roots. Robb was the same; still opting to trace his hands across her thighs and up her breasts— igniting a moan out of her moth that he swallowed with his. Both their lips parted slightly, allowing them to slip their tongues into each other’s.

The room was heating up by the second. The only sounds that could be heard were their muffled groans and heavy breathing. Parting away, Y/N went to work to unlace his tunic— undoing her work. There was some urgency in the way her hands moved, Robb staring at her, intoxicated by her face contoured in rapture. He went straight for her dress, moving the fabric down to expose her shoulders, planting kisses on her. Y/N let out a loud whimper; the feeling of Robb biting into her neck sending a jolt of pleasure and goosebumps over her body. Grabbing his jaw, she returned her attack on his lips; their kiss now getting sloppier by the second, teeth almost clashing against. Y/N was readying herself to further pull her dress down but was interfered by Robb pulling away. Almost desperate like, she chased his lips but was denied.

“No,” Robb spoke, almost sounding to be in pain. His breath was ragged, chest moving up and down and fist clenched to his side, “Not like this”. Y/Ns’ common sense returned, slightly embarrassed that her hunger for him had taken over her completely. She was thankful that Robb had the strength and respect to keep her virtue safe. A few moments passed and their breathing became stable once again. Y/N watched as Robb gazed down at her, his lips red and bruised. Taking a hold of her face in his hand, Robb placed his forehead against her, “I love you”. Y/N could do nothing but nod, wrapping her arms around his torso, “I know”.

He smiled sheepishly at her, caressing her cheek, “Write to me at least. Please. Write to me about anything…even if you have nothing to talk about. I will always send a reply back. I promise”.  She gave him a tight-lipped smile, kissing his hand lightly, “I’ll try”. Robb knew she was lying. As they held each other’s gaze, time appeared to stop and the outside world became less significant. With one last kiss to her temple, Robb picked up his belongings and went out the door.

Y/N waited a decent number of minutes to pass before she exited the room— making sure there were no prying eyes around. She was hurrying towards her own chambers; wanting to be alone and allowed let all her tears fall free. She didn’t make it far, stopping in her movements at the sound of someone calling her name.

“Y/N”, Daenerys called out at the end of the hallway. Approaching her, she offered her sister a happy smile, “I was looking all over for you. I came to see if you wanted to bid the North men a goodbye- “, Daenerys stopped talking momentarily. Her eyes taking in Y/N disheveled appearance, and the obvious love mark on her neck. “But I can see you must’ve already given your farewell to the King in the North”, she teased.

Y/N nodding, staring down at the ground with her hands picking at the skin around her nails, “Yes, I have. So, I have no need to bid them a further goodbye. If you excuse me, I will retire for the day”. She was barley able to turn her body around before Daenerys grabbed hold of her forearm. “Hold on”, Daenerys said letting out a low chuckle, “It is still early morning. Why would you retire so soon- “. Her amusement dwindled into silence, fully grasping the emotions displayed on her little sisters’ face. “What’s wrong? What happened?”, she inquired anxiously and hastily, “Did that Stark boy do something to you?”, now anger appearing in her voice. Y/N was quick to deny her accusations, “No. He did nothing. It’s what I’ve done to him”. The queen placed a comforting embrace around her sisters’ figure, soothing her hair. “He offered me a marriage proposal, Dany” she sobbed into her shoulders, “And I told him no. I broke his heart”. Daenerys said nothing to the information given to her.  A short interval of silence ensured; disrupted by Daenerys taking in a deep breath.

“Do you love him?”.

She hadn’t expected such a direct question from Daenerys, especially about something she had been trying to conceal. Y/N hesitated for a moment— deciding there was no use in denying it, “I do”.

The older sister pulled away, smiling down lovingly at her, “Then why not go be with him?”. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, stumbling over her words, “Because I promised to stick by your side. To help you,” she defended. Staring back at the floor, Y/N inhaled deeply, “Because I am cursed- “

“That is a load of shit”, Daenerys cut in. Y/N gaped at her older sister in disbelief for her vulgar language directed at her. Daenerys persisted with her speech, “You are not cursed, Y/N. Our history might show that our ancestors without the inherited Targaryen traits suffered greatly, but that does not mean all of them will”. Putting both hands on her shoulder, she reassured Y/N, “I know that in their lives they were still able to experience contentment and love. And you should too”.

Whispering softly, Daenerys hold on her sister tightened, “You've gone through a lot, and life has made it difficult to look past your own suffering, I won't deny that. But you need not forget the positive impact that you have on others around you. You undoubtedly brought happiness and love into the lives of your mother as well as those from your pas, and me toot. I'm even more positive that you introduced that into Robb Starks' life as well”.

Daenerys took a moment to recover after her extended address; watching Y/N register every world she spoke. Placing a gentle hand on her face, Daenerys gave her final say, “So, why not go be with him?”.

Y/N expression mirrored her surprise at what she heard. Shaking her head, she repudiated, “B-But what about you? My promise to you- “. She was cut off once again. “I’ve been thinking it over”, Daenerys began, “And I’ve asked too much from you. You are my only family and I wish to keep you by me, but your life is not mine. You control it”. Y/N held her breath, a small tear forming in her eyes. A sense of déjà vu had come to her— those were similar words her own mother had told her. Daenerys smiled widely at her, taking both her hands into her own, “If I am to be a good queen and rule with fairness”, she gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “I should let you live your life. As your queen, I give you the order to go live a life of happiness with the man you love”. She sustained the cheerful curve of her lips, “Go to him— go be with him in the North. A change of scenery can be good, don’t you think?”.

Y/N didn’t answer her question; instead, she sprang and encircled her sister in a warm hug. “Thank you, Dany,”, she expressed her heartfelt thanks. Daenerys words had opened her eyes; Y/N was not brought into this world to fear it— she was brought in it to appreciate its gifts. The gifts being family, happiness, and love. Daenerys suppressed a laugh that wanted to escape her lips. Pushing the girl slightly, she encouraged her further, “Now go and tell him. Rhaegal will be sad but he’ll live”. Y/N was quick to turn and follow after Robb, but stopped abruptly at Daenerys calling out to her.

“Don’t marry him too soon”. Panic coiled in the pit of her stomach at the thought that Daenerys was taking back what she said. The older sister waved her hand, shooing the girl away, “I just meant that I wish to be present at the wedding. Now, go”.

Robb stood beside a couple of his men and advisor at Dragonstone’s port. He watched his men load up the ships, trying to listen to what his advisor was saying but his mind was elsewhere. He came here to acquire the Dragon Queen as his ally— and now he leaves with that success and a broken heart. He traced back the memory of their times together, the warmth of her hands completely enclosing his, the way her eyes sparkled with every grin. A longing buried deep in his chest arose with every thought of Y/N. It was a bittersweet anguish. His advisor next to him cleared his throat, grabbing his attention when he nudged Robbs’ side, “Your grace”. Following the direction of his advisor’s eyesight, his own landed on Y/N— clearly out of breath and showing urgency.

“Y/N”, he called out. Robb was quick to grab ahold of her forearms, inspecting her body for any signs of injury, “Are you okay? Is there something wrong?” he asked, concern shown deep in his eyes. Y/N nodded her head, calming down her breathing as she watched his men leave to give them privacy. Staring up at him, she confessed, “I will not write to you”. Robbs’ brows drew together in a frown, feeling as though she was taking a jab at his sorrows. A normal reaction would be to spit fire back, but he was too in love with her.

Swallowing thickly, he responded, “I figured that already- “

“No, let me finish” she interrupted him, “I will not write to you…because I am coming with you”. His eyes widened in disbelief at the statement— not given time to properly respond once again. Swallowing the lump in her throat, her palms grw clammy, “Robb…I love you”. At last, he managed to respond, "You do?" with a tone that hinted at both surprise and joy. Y/N nodded, vulnerability showing in the blush of her cheeks and grabbing a hold of his hand, “Yes. I should’ve told you from the start and I should’ve said yes to your proposal- “, she sucked in a trembling breath, “I care about you deeply and I’ve never felt this much love for anyone”. Y/Ns’ heart raced as her words lingered in the crisp morning air. With a subtle shake of her head, she redirected the conversation. “Though I’ve come to see the foolishness in it; I still don’t know if my curse is real or not. All I know is that I wish to spend every minute— every second of my life with you”. Biting her lip gently, she broke eye contact with him, “It is a big risk, I kno- “.

“A risk I am willing to take”, Robb finally cut her off, “I would do anything for you.” In their moment of confession, they wrapped each other in a tight embrace. With their foreheads resting against each other's, a warm yet hesitant smile spread across Y/N face. “So,” she spoke shyly, “is that tour of Winterfell still up for grabs?”

Robb reciprocated her smile with his own, gently lifting his hands to touch her bottom lip. “Yes. It still is” he breathed out, “And my proposal too”. With a gentle tilt of her head, Y/N moved in closer, “Then I say you take me to Winterfell and make me your wife”. Their lips meet in a tender and heartfelt kiss— all their troubles now resolved. A quiet vow of eternity was spoken as their lips moved in rhythm. A familiar roar was heard; Y/N breaking the kiss and laughing as she took notice of Rhaegal in the sky. Robb found himself smiling even more at the sight of her joy; pulling her closer to him.

A cheeky grin formed across her face, “I think Lady of Winterfell has a nice ring to it, don’t you?”

Robb chuckled, caressing her face, “I think Queen of Winterfell sounds nicer. I also think the title of “Robb Starks’ Wife” suits you even more”. Y/N jokingly jabbed her elbow into his side, slightly squeaking as Robb reclaimed her lips in his. They both were filled with excitement and anticipation for what their future together awaited.

#robb stark #game of thrones #robb stark fanfic #robb stark x reader #robb stark x y/n #robb stark x you #robb stark oneshot #richard madden #robb stark imagine #got x reader #got scenario #got imagines #asoiaf #robb stark x targaryen!reader #robb stark x fem!reader

[axelsagewrites]

Robb Stark and Jon Snow*Wait

Pairing: f!reader x jon x robb

Summary: Robb and Jon decide to share the girl theyve both been sleeping with (part three to share and competition but can be read alone)

Word count: 3198

warnings: hard dom robb, soft dom jon, threesome, finger f!recieving, oral f!recieving, nipple play, p in v sex, anal sex with lube, praise, multiple orgasms, mouth covering (not choking), biting (only a litte) smut 18+

Masterlist Here

You never expecting that being fostered by the starks would be so interesting, but you certainly were not complaining. Jon and Robb had always been good at sharing growing up but neither boy expected to share a woman when they grew up. After their first night joining you in your chambers, they realised sharing you was better than getting none of you at all. However, it was only that first night they had shared you at one time so far.

Nearly every other night you slinked off into the corridors to find one of their chambers. Robbs were large and covered in thick grey furs and dusty blue fabrics. The fireplace never went out in his chambers. The warmth made it so much more enticing when Robb would take you as soon as you walked in the chambers, you both ending up laying on a thick fur rug in front of the fire’s hearth.

Jons chambers were plainer than Robbs, something he tried to apologise for, but it did not matter. After all, Jons had the advantage of being so far from the nobles that no one questioned the headboard banging or moans. While it was colder than Robbs chamber you used this as an excuse to slip beneath Jons furs, pressing your naked body against his for warmth and feeling his touch.

Occasionally they would visit your chambers however while they had learned how to share neither wanted to walk in on something you did not want them to see. But ever since that night they took you by either end it was all you wanted them to do without ever realising they both wanted to do it again.

Robb wasn’t sure why the idea of another mans cock being shoved down your throat turned him on especially considering how possessive he could get. All it took was for a man’s eyes to linger on you for a moment too long and Robb was grabbing your arm to escort you away.

While Robb was jealous Jon was a people pleaser to his core. Whether that be picking a flower for you on a walk and placing it in your hair, sneaking you a cake from the kitchen, or staying between your legs for so long that you forgot your own name. Jon couldn’t get the image out his mind of the mess you became from his and Robbs first night with you.

The pair had been skirting around the topic for weeks. They couldn’t help but rile each other up as they debated which one was the better match for you. This turned into casual comments about how good you looked to eventually sharing tips. All it took was one too many cups of wine after dinner for Robb to finally bring up the idea to Jon as they hid out in the stables with an extra bottle of wine. You had made fun of the pair’s hangover in the morning at breakfast not knowing what they had in store for you later that night.

The knock on your chamber door that night was surprising but not an unwelcomed one by any means. You had all developed a secret chap for these specific purposes so as you quickly climbed out of bed you wondered which northerner had trailed across the castle in the dead of night. As you unlatched the door you titled your head in confusion when you saw the pair standing at your door.

Robb didn’t wait for approval before sauntering into the room, “evening love,” he said as he sauntered over to drop into the armchair in your chambers.

Jon quickly shut the door behind him, stepping into the room before gently kissing your forehead, “i hope we didn’t disturb you,” he said before moving to stand next to where Robb sat.

“no, its fine,” you said, your eyes wearily scanning the pair who were currently exchange a look. You crossed your arms as if that gave any modesty to the thin night dress you wore, “has something happened?”

“not yet,” Robb said but before you could speak, he lent forward, elbows resting on his knees as his eyes flickered over your body for a moment, “we have a proposition love,” he said as his eyes finally met yours and you could see a hunger in them.

Your thighs pressed together, a heat already growing in your body that you tried to keep at bay. You nodded at them, waiting as the silence hung like smoke, “and what’s that?” You asked, your eyes flickering to Jon.

“you told us we need to learn how to share you love,” Jon said, glancing at the stark for reassurance, “but we’ve not been sharing you properly have we?”

“now i don’t think so,” Robb said standing from his chair, “we wanna make you feel good sweetheart, the both of us. Like we did that first night,” he said as he crossed the room to where you stood, “would you like that? Both of us fucking you,” he finally said.

You looked down for a moment, biting your lip in the way you knew drove Robb crazy before finally looking up and nodding, “yes. I’d like that,” you said, your hands moving to hold Robbs arms and stepping in closer.

Robb held your jaw, his thumb rubbing softly over your bottom lip, “are you sure about this love?” He asked as his eyes bore into yours, searching for any doubts.

“i’m sure,” you said, already breathless, “i want this. I want you,” you glanced over your shoulder to Jon, “both of you,”

A low growl came from Robbs throat as he pulled your face to his, his lips crashing onto yours with hungry desperation. His free hand moved to squeeze your breast, while the other kept your head tilted up to close the gap. Your hands held onto his arms, trying to steady yourself in the kiss.

Your breath caught for a moment when you felt Jons soft touch, his fingers grazing up your thighs. His hands moved up your night shift, his breath fanning over your neck as his hands reached your bare hips. Jon squeezed gently, enjoying the feel for a moment before his hands slipped out from under the fabric and you felt his fingers graze your back. You shivered when you felt his hands untie the strap of your nightdress.

Robb broke the kiss, stepping back to let the fabric fall to the floor. Your chamber had grown cold in the night and the cold air make your body tingle and nipples harden at the breeze. Robb cupped your breast again, flicking his thumb over the perked bud. “just look at her,” he mumbled, his eyes devouring your body.

“so pretty,” Jon said softly, his hands moving to rest on your hips again. He pressed his chest into your bare back, moving his face to press his cheek against yours. You gasped lightly when Robb squeezed your nipples gently and moaned when he began rolling them in between his fingers. “you like that?” You could feel Jon’s chuckle move up his chest as he watched how you reacted.

You nodded quickly, eyes closing for a moment, before Robb pinched down more harshly, “he asked a question love,” Robb said.

“y-yes,” you stuttered out, eyes opening to be met with Robbs.

“good girl,” Robb said, kissing your forehead as you felt Jons hands slip forward from your hips to the tops of your thighs, “don’t you wanna be good for us?” Robb asked as Jon ran his fingers teasingly close to where you needed them.

“i-i do yes,” you said but it was more of a whine that made both boy’s chuckle.

Your breathing faltered when Jons finger ran up your slit, “already so wet for us,” Jon said, kissing the crook of your neck, “such a pretty sight,” Jon mumbled against your skin as his fingers toyed with you, edging closer to your bundle of nerves.

Jon ignored the pleases falling out under your breath as he continued to toy with you for a few moments longer before you finally felt his fingers teasing your hole. While Jon tortured you Robb moved to leave soft kisses along your collarbones, moving slowly down. It was as if both of them wanted you to work for this.

You moaned lightly when you felt Jon slowly push in two fingers. He kissed your shoulder as he began to curl them gently inside you, fucking you slowly with his digits, “that’s my girl,” you felt his lips mumble against your skin.

Your hands moved to Robbs hair, using his curls for grips as you leant against Jons body. Your grip tightened when Robb suddenly took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it gently at first before he began to graze it with his teeth. Both northerners worked in sync causing a knot to bubble in your stomach but before it could burst Robb suddenly dropped your sensitive buds making you whine loudly, not caring how desperate you seemed.

Robb ignored your pleas, looking to Jon before nodding. You looked at Robb confused as he dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands moving to rest on your hips. When Jons fingers slowed, slipping out of you, you whined once more, desperate for their touch. “shh,” Jon whispered in your ear, “good things come to those who wait,”

Before you could protest or whine again you gasped when Robb suddenly licked a stripe up your wet cunt. Your hand shot out to hold his hair, but Robb looked up with a final smirk before diving back in as if he was a man starved.

You could already feel your legs going weak as you felt your body ready itself again. Jon was the only reason you had not fallen to the floor but when his hands moved to cup your breasts you gasped as he began to squeeze your sensitive buds. Your grip tightened in Robbs hair as his tongue dove in and out of you with a wolfish hunger. His hands tightened on your hips, his fingertips digging into your skin unlike Jons usual soft touches. It did not take long before you felt your body tightening, your orgasm ripping through your body.

Jons hands moved to turn your head to the side, capturing your lips in a messy kiss to try silence the moans. Robb however did not stop his movements till you rode out every last second of pleasure he could give you. “you’re doing so good,” Jon whispered in your ear before kissing bellow it while his arms wrapped around you.

Robb placed a soft kiss to your inner thigh before standing up, his hand caressing your face, “such a good girl for us,” he murmured before kissing your lips softly but only for a moment, “why don’t you go kneel on the bed sweetheart,” Robb said it like a question, but you knew there was only one answer.

You quickly moved, no longer worried about either man seeing you naked, to kneel on the soft sheets, hands in your lap as you watched them whisper to each other. They kept glancing over you as you spoke, and you could feel the excitement bubbling inside you. All the things they could do, positions to try, your mind rushed and was only drawn back when you looked up to see Robb stripping off his shirt.

“aww look how excited she looks,” Robb cooed, almost mocking as Jon rolled his eyes and began to pull his own clothes off. Between their bare chests and Robbs words you could feel yourself flush, “she’s so pretty when she’s embarrassed,” he said which only made your cheeks heat more.

“she’s always pretty,” Jon said as he pushed past the starkling, who had moved on to undo his trousers, and headed towards the bed. Taking your face gently in his hand, Jon gazed down at you, leaning in for a soft and slow kiss. Your hands moved up his chest, enjoying his skin under your touch before tangling your hands in his long soft hair, tugging on it gently.

When Jon pulled back your head was in a daze that was only snapped back when Jon stepped back, and Robb stepped up to the bed. Your eyes scanned his bare frame, appreciating how each muscle and bone looked on his body, especially the one you had been craving since he walked in. Robb let you have your stares for a moment before lifting your chin with his finger, “you ready for us pet?” He asked, softness in his eyes.

“yes,” you managed to say as Jon walked back over who had also discarded his trousers and a small bottle in his hand that he passed to Robb without letting you see. As he did this you took a moment to compare the men. Neither one was lacking with Robbs being on the thinner side but long and Jons length being fairly average but with a good girth to his member. Besides both of them knew how to use it.

Neither man was bothered by your stares, even letting themselves chuckle at your awe-struck eyes. They nodded at each other before taking their positions, Robb kneeling behind you and Jon in front. You couldn’t help giving Jon a questioning look, this was different than last time, but Jon just kissed you softly to reassure you.

As your lips tangled with his you could feel Robb squeezing your ass softly, running his hand over the skin before pulling away. Only a moment later though you gasped when you felt his cold finger running over your asshole. “relax love,” Robb said, kissing the back of your neck. “just like before yeah?” He said as his finger slowly ran over your hole, spreading a cold liquid over it.

It wasn’t the first time you and Robb had experimented with anal btu you couldn’t help but blush with Jon watching you. “its okay love you don’t have to,” the snow reassured you, his hand stroking your cheek.

“i want to,” you said, knowing the embarrassment would fade as soon as you had a cock in you.

You felt Robb move away for a second before you felt the tip of his cock running over your ass, moving down to your hole. “deep breaths love,” Robb said, kissing your neck again as his tip lined up with your hole, pushing in slowly to test the waters, his spare hand holding your hip.

“that’s it loves,” Robb grunted as he pushed his cock in deeper, stretching you perfectly. Your head fell into the crook of Jons neck, your hands holding his shoulders to keep steady as you felt Robb easing in.  “fuck you take me so well,” Robb groaned when he finally sunk all the way in.

Jon pulled your head off his shoulder, turning you to kiss him slowly as you adjusted to Robbs size. Slowly Robb began to move, pumping into you slowly at first as you adjusted to the fullness. But you wanted more, you needed Jon. “need you,” you mumbled against his lips, reaching down to hold Jons cock in your hand, pumping it slowly.

“fuck,” Jon groaned, letting himself enjoy the feeling for a moment before pulling your hand off. Despite feeling so full of Robb you knew you wanted more. Jon shuffled closer slightly, holding his cock and running his tip up and down your folds, making you whine when he rubbed against your clit.

Jon glanced at Robb for a moment before finally looking back at you as Robb paused his moves. Jon lined up with your entrancing, pushing in almost painfully slow. Your head fell back to rest on Robbs shoulder, whining as Jon finally sunk all the way into you. You couldn’t stop your hips from bucking, feeling fuller than ever before. “eager i see,” Robb chuckled.

“let’s give her what she wants then,” Jon said, his hand grabbing the back of your neck to pull you back to him. Before you could speak Robb grabbed your hips, his thrusts starting again but this time faster and joined by Jons own thrusts. You couldn’t help the moans and whimpers as they fucked you in both holes, their thrusting almost perfectly synced.

Your head fell on Jons shoulder, biting down onto it to try muffle the sounds but to little avail. Jons hand wrapped into your hair, pulling you back up to kiss you. The kiss was messy and hungry and despite Jons trying did little to stop the noises you were making.

You heard Robb growl before you felt yourself being ripped from Jons kiss and pulled back to rest on Robbs chest, his hand moving to cover your mouth. You heard Jon cursing under his breath, this new angle letting him see more of your frame as he tried too not cum right there. His hand slipped between your bodies and your body felt on fire when he began to rub sloppy circles onto your bundle of nerves.

You felt your whole body tighten, threatening to break from the fullness and pleasure. The orgasm hit you like a brick and your teeth sunk into Robbs hand, trying to stop the whiny moans as you crashed. While neither man stopped Jon was struggling not to cum as your cunt began to squeeze around his cock. When you finally opened your eyes, you looked at Jon who looked close to blowing. With your mouth still covered by Robbs hand all you could do was nod at Jon.

Jons pace quickened, his thrusts messy and desperate before you finally saw his eyes clamp shut and felt his seed spilling into you. Jon cursed as he rode out his own orgasm before pulling out. “move snow,” Robb grunted through gritted teeth.

He did as he was told, quickly moving to sit on the other side of the bed to catch his breath. Before you could question Robb, his hand moved from your mouth to your shoulder before pushing you down. You barely had time to catch yourself, now on your knees with you ass in the air and being fucked by Robb stark. It only took Robb a few more moments before he also couldn’t contain himself, spilling into your ass as he grabbed your hips for dear life. “oh gods-fuck,” the stark man almost yelled as he finally got his release.

Robb wrapped an arm under your hips to keep you up as he pulled out of you before gently laying you down, “sorry if i got out of control love,” Robb said, a nervous tinge in his voice as he laid down next to you.

You rolled over and curled into his side after noticing Jon had moved from the bed to grabbed something from your vanity, “don’t apologise,” you mumbled into his chest. You looked up as Jon returned with a rag and water jug to help clean you up and try rehydrating after all of that. As you looked between the men you knew this night would defiantly not be a one off.

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[asongofmarvelanddc]

Duty PT6

PAIRING: Robb Stark X Reader

WORD COUNT: 5642

WARNINGS: none :)

SUMMARY: The Queen considers whether it is time to move on with her life, but the past is not so easily buried.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 4 ½ | PART 5 | PART 5½

MASTERLIST | ROBB STARK MASTERLIST

A/N: All will be revealed in time 👀 Please reblog, comment or send an ask so I can hear what you think! Really hope you enjoy this one 🫶🏾🥰

The rain up North is nothing like the summer showers you experienced back home. This rain stings and bites at your skin as it falls, but it doesn't send you back inside under the shade.

Today is the first time in a few days that you have been outside, breathing in the fresh air. Your moon blood came particularly harsh this time around and left you bedridden for two days. It was a terrible ordeal, but it allowed you to see another side to your husband.

This morning, you awoke with no pains. Although your body is still tired and weak, here you stand, in the rain, embracing the Northern cold and eagerly awaiting nightfall because surprisingly, you have missed spending your evenings with Robb.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Amiria calling your name.

"My Lady, what are you doing out in the cold?" she sounds panicked as she wraps a blanket around your shoulders, "Seven hells! You'll make yourself ill!"

You chuckle as you welcome the blanket and follow her back under the shade, "It's alright, I wasn't out there for long."

Amiria runs the blanket over your damp hair. "It is a good thing I found you. Any longer and you might catch a fever," she presses the back of her hand to your cheek, "You have just been unwell, you should not tempt fate, my Lady."

"I apologise, I did not mean to worry you," you smile warmly and give her a short hug to reassure her, "Found me? Were you looking for me?"

"Yes, Lady Stark has requested your presence in her quarters."

You're taken aback by this. Lady Stark, though pleasant since the wedding, has never once asked to speak to you alone.

"Did she tell you why she wants to see me?"

Amiria looks up at you and chuckles when she sees the nervousness that has settled into you.

"Don't be afraid," she says in a tone that suggests your anxiety is amusing to her, "She did not seem to be in a terrible mood."

"That is good," you breathe a sigh of relief, but your eyes remain apprehensive.

Amiria smirks and takes you by the arm, pulling you towards your chambers, "Come. Let us get you dry for the Queen Mother."

***

As soon as you enter the parlour, Catelyn rises to greet you at the door, embracing you before you even have a chance to curtsey. When she releases you, her smile turns into a frown as she cups your face with her hands.

"You still look a bit unwell, darling," she says, looking between your eyes, a hint of pity in her voice, "Come and sit, let us have some tea. Perhaps it will help you feel better."

You follow her to where a small table is set with all your favourite treats and a teapot to share between the two of you. She takes a seat in an armchair on one side of the table and you sit opposite her on the other side of the table. Without a word she begins to pour the tea for the both of you.

"Does it normally trouble you so?" she asks as she hands you a cup.

You take a grateful sip, smiling when that familiar warmth begins spreading in your chest. "Sometimes the Mother offers mercy and my bloods pass painlessly," you say, "Other times I am confined to my bed chambers for some days."

"Poor girl," her forehead wrinkles when she frowns, "I'll speak to Maester Luwin about giving you something that might take away your pain."

"Thank you, my Lady."

There's a pause in the conversation as you sip the mint tea and enjoy the warmth of the fire burning. Your worries begin to fade away as you relax in Catelyn's company.

“I see you’ve been spending much more time with my son as of late,” she says, breaking the silence, “I hear you’re with him in his study into the late hours of the night.”

It's an abrupt turn from your initial conversation, but you suppose it is normal for her to ask about her son.

“We talk mostly. Sometimes I sew while he works.”

A thin smile forms on Catelyn’s lips as she hums in response, “And what is it that you talk about?”

The question catches you off guard. It’s a bit impolite to ask about private conversations, but you would never dare to point out such a thing to your good-mother.

“I tell him about my family, what it was like growing up in the South,” you say hesitantly, “He talks about you, his family…his father and sisters.”

You can’t help but pity her when you see how she deflates at the mention of her lost family. Her eye twitches as she looks away, trying to stop her mask from slipping.

“He tells me stories about all of them as children,” a tender smile forms on your lips as you think back to the conversations, “It makes me wish I had siblings of my own to fight and play with.”

Catelyn nods again, but her smile seems even more strained than before. Your brows furrow in concern as you reach out to touch her knee.

“Lady Stark?”

She presses one hand to her lips, taking a moment to collect herself. Not a single tear falls from her eyes, though they come close. After only a few seconds, she blows out a breath and sits up properly in her chair, composed once again.

“He rarely talks about them with me,” she whispers, eyes downcast.

“I think he finds it easier to talk about them with someone who doesn’t know them,” you reassure her, “I assume it feels more like recalling a fond memory to a stranger than it does reminiscing about loved ones he’s lost.”

She nods her head, though she seems unconvinced. You can’t imagine the pain and fear she must be feeling knowing that her son has made an enemy of the same family who have her daughters in their grasp. That he is in open rebellion against the King who took her husband's head.

"He must trust you quite a bit."

You consider it for a moment, "I hope so. I would like to think he does."

"How have you been finding all of this? Being here, married to Robb?"

It is not a simple question to answer. In truth, you did not expect this much time to pass with your heart still refusing to fully open to Robb, nor his to you. Your mother always told you that falling in love is quick and simple, and in the past you found that to be true. But for some reason, it is slow and difficult with Robb.

A month since your wedding and you still hold each other at arms' length, merely allowing glimpses into your souls on occasion.

Instead of telling her an outright lie, you choose to focus on the good. "Your family have been so accommodating, as has Robb," you plaster a smile on your lips, "It has taken some time to adjust, but everyone has been so kind."

Judging by the look on Catelyn's face, she knows that you are hiding something. She doesn't come across as the kind of woman who is fooled easily.

“This may be crude of me, but I must ask," she begins, leaning forward ever so slightly, "This is your second time on the bloods since the wedding?"

It only takes you a second to decipher what exactly she is asking. You nod quickly, suddenly very uncomfortable.

"Have you and Robb–?"

"We have not."

"The marriage is unconsummated?"

You nod again, averting your gaze in embarrassment. Catelyn looks off to the side, deep in thought. Each passing second only serves to make your stomach turn and your palms sweat.

Eventually, she turns back to you, but there is no anger nor shame in her eyes, only determination.

"I truly do not wish to make you uncomfortable, but I must stress the importance of your consummation." She speaks in a matter-of-fact tone that is only slightly intimidating.

"Your marriage is not valid until the act is done. And I need not remind you of your duty to each other as husband and wife, and as rulers of the North."

Children.

"I understand."

"Then why, may I ask, are you waiting?"

This time, there is a hint of frustration in her tone. She looks at you with eyes so piercing that for a moment you forget that you are not a child being scolded by her Septa. Yet, it is somehow worse because the person asking the question is your good-mother.

"We only wish to know each other better before we–" you cut yourself off to find the right words, "There is still time–"

"There is no time," Catelyn's patience seems to have worn thin, "Robb will return to the frontline before long. And only the gods know if he will come back."

That thought sends a chill down your spine. Robb may not be some great love, but the mere idea of his demise makes your heart sink to your stomach.

"I have been in your shoes before, Y/N," she says, her tone softer, "I did not know Ned very well when I first met him. I certainly didn't love him either. That comes with time."

Her words are optimistic. Reassuring. And they get you thinking.

"We all have our roles to play. It is time you and Robb started doing your part."

***

"She wants us to consummate."

Amiria sits on a stool beside your bath, washing all the grease and dirt out of your hair while you soak in the warm water.

"But His Grace said that you do not have to if you don't wish to, no?" she asks.

You sigh deeply, "That is true. But I'm starting to believe that she may be right."

The longer you think about her words, the more they cut deep. You have been ignoring the reality of your situation, going through the motions and capitalising on Robb's busy schedule to avoid hard truths.

Robb is your husband now, and the North is your home. That will never change. This is not King’s Landing where you will have to endure for a time and be rescued. This is your life, forever. And deep down in your heart you know that if you are to start a new life, you must let go of the old one.

Without warning, tears begin to well in your eyes and blur your vision. This is not the life you imagined for yourself. To never experience love, you were prepared for – you always knew that your marriage would be arranged, and if love never happened with your husband, you would’ve been content given he was kind and gentle.

But this? To have loved and lost it? To know what it feels like and know that you will never have it again? It’s a pain you would not wish on anyone.

And Robb. He is kind, and he cares…somewhat. But he does not love you. And if he loves Elyse the way you have loved, then you know he will never love you. That is the hard truth.

You bury your head in your hands and let the tears flow. Amiria crouches down beside the bath and wraps her arms around you, letting you sob into her shoulder.

"I hate to see you in such pain, my Lady," she says, her voice thick with emotion.

The day you left King's Landing, your heart was shattered. A part of you has been holding on to him for so long because it is a reminder that what you shared was real. And how could you repay the love he gave by letting it go?

Selfishly, you want him to be happy, to have moved on. You pray that he has forgotten you. Maybe then you would not be riddled with guilt over letting him go. The truth is, you have responsibilities that you can shirk no longer. And you cannot be a good wife with him still in your heart.

With a deep, shaky breath, you pull away from Amiria and wipe your eyes, splashing your face with the bath water to calm yourself down.

Once your heart stops racing and your breathing relaxes, you turn to Amiria, "Could you fetch my robe, please?"

She hesitates momentarily before doing it. You climb out of the bath and slip on the robe, walking to your dresser with Amiria following close behind.

"Help me dress."

Your sudden switch from distress to being resolute is alarming to Amiria. She stares in bewilderment as you begin to get ready. "Where are you going?"

"I always visit Robb in the evenings," you say, "It is the perfect time to raise the topic of consummation."

Amiria places a hand on your shoulder to grab your attention. She looks straight into your eyes and asks sincerely, "Are you sure that you are ready to take that step?"

You know that you are not ready, but you also know that it is time to stop living in the past. It is exhausting, and it hurts you more than it makes you happy. You want to believe that you can be happy here, if you only give it a chance.

"Yes. I'm sure."

***

It’s not a question that Robb has a face any woman would love to look at. You see the way women giggle and blush when he smiles as he walks past them. The way they always seem to crowd when he spars with Ser Rodrik. You understand, you like to look at him too. He’s really quite…beautiful, but it’s more than that.

His guard is never lower than when he is in this solar working, and you like to watch the way he does things when he is not concerned with appearances. These are the moments when you see the truest version of him. His brows knitting together when he reads something particularly unpleasant, the way he occasionally looks up at you and offers a sweet smile. He curses sometimes. It used to shock you, but you find it amusing now.

Your admiration grows the more you see him like this, constantly fighting through mental and physical fatigue to lead his people and be there for his family. When he talks to you about them, you wonder if he has even had time to properly grieve his father, or if that is yet another thing he has pushed aside for the sake of his responsibilities. It breaks your heart to think so.

Most mornings you wake up alone because he is up by the crack of dawn. And at night, you leave him here in this study, working into the late hours. You see the bags under his eyes and the way he pauses every so often to massage his shoulders and neck. He takes on…too much.

Sitting across from him tonight, all you can think about are Catelyn's words. How do you even begin to discuss such a sensitive topic? Especially when he is under so much pressure?

Your mother says it is time we consummated our marriage. Shall we start making love?

Ridiculous.

Robb stops his writing for a moment to crack his knuckles and stretch his back, and as he puts down his writing quill, he looks up and catches you staring. You quickly tear away your gaze, returning to your embroidery and ignoring the rising heat on your neck and chest.

Robb knows you well enough now that he can tell when there is something disturbing you.

"What is on your mind?" he asks, leaning forward to give you his full attention.

This is your opportunity to broach the subject, but for some reason, you are unable to form the words. So you tell him something else.

“Just that I...forgot to tell you something. I went into town the day before I fell ill.”

Robb sits up a little, visibly concerned, “Alone?”

“No, Amiria went with me. And a few guards.”

He relaxes then, leaning forward once again.

“We took some food and clothes to the homes sheltering the children orphaned in this war,” you say, “I wanted to be sure they’re being taken care of.”

He looks pleasantly surprised. “That is very kind of you. I had not thought to do that yet.”

You wave a hand and shake your head. “Of course not. You already have so much on your plate,” you gesture to his cluttered desk, “I have never ran a household much less an entire castle before, so I leave it to your mother. I’m just trying to do what little I can to support your efforts.”

You return to your embroidery, but Robb doesn't take his eyes off you. He knows there is still something eating at you and yet you refuse to say it. Suddenly he's full of regret. Perhaps, if he had not been so determined to dislike you at first, you would not still hide behind your wall.

Eventually, he looks away from you with a sigh, picking up a letter from his unopened pile and breaking the seal. You glance up at him, relieved that he has broken his scrutinising stare.

“What are you reading?” you ask, attempting to change the topic.

“A report from our scouts.”

You sit up properly, now curious, “How goes the search for Arya?”

Robb puts down the letter a little forcefully and run his hands through his hair in frustration. That about tells you all you need to know.

"Have you thought any more about what I suggested? About the Owls?”

This is a conversation that has already been had before. Multiple times. Robb turned down your father's offer, and he has rejected yours as well each time you've brought it up. At this point, he is tired of reiterating his position.

“I have already told you that I have no intention of using them,” his tone is clipped when he speaks, and he attempts to busy himself with other work to end the conversation.

His efforts are futile because you refuse to let it go, “They would be inside the Red Keep within hours of receiving your letter–“

“I don’t want to have this conversation again.”

“–and they would have Sansa on the road back to Winterfell within days.”

“I am not going to use spies.”

“Sansa is not–,” you pause mid-sentence to gather yourself, “Sansa is not safe with Joffrey.”

Robb sighs deeply and rubs his tired eyes with his hands, "Do you think I am unaware of that?”

“I just don’t understand why you won’t use them,” you press, “Do you doubt their capabilities?”

“No, I am sure they are very capa–“

“Because they managed to smuggle me out of King’s Landing without issue,” you cut him off, “Daenerys Targaryen is alive in Essos today because of them.”

“Enough!”

You flinch at the sound of his raised voice. Instantly your heart starts racing, the hairs on your body standing on end. For a second, only a mere second, you are back in King's Landing, and you are terrified.

“I am fighting this war with honour,” he continues, his voice now back to normal, “This is the last time I will have this discussion, do you understand me?”

He stares you down for a few seconds until he thinks you have dropped it. You wait until he relaxes some before speaking.

“Your enemy would pay a starving child two coppers and a loaf of stale bread to poison your supper,” you say in the calmest tone you can muster, “Spying ought not be where you draw the line.”

You rise to your feet and walk to the door, ignoring Robb’s burning gaze. As you place your hand on the handle, you turn to him once more.

“I don’t suppose you will be retiring for the night?”

He begins shuffling some papers on his desk, “No, I still have much to do before the morn.”

You don’t believe him, but you nod anyways. “Very well, then. I shall bid you goodnight.”

Once you step outside and close the door, you lean against the wall of the corridor, sucking in the cold air and placing a hand over your chest to slow your heart. Hot tears burn behind your eyes – not of sadness, but of anger.

It took one word – one little word – and you were back there at the lowest point you've ever been. It's a reminder that all the pain and hurt inflicted by that monster is still inside you. And it hurts that Robb was the one to bring it to the surface.

***

When Robb eventually retires for the night, he half-expects you to be waiting for him, ready to continue the conversation from earlier, so he's surprised to find you curled up under the blankets on your side of the bed.

A few of the candles in the room are still lit – he knows you left them burning for his benefit. He uses the dim lighting to make his way around the room, removing his jerkin shirt as he does so. It gets hot in the room because even with the natural heating from the hot springs, you still insist on having a fire built every night before you sleep. Robb doesn't object to this because he knows you can't sleep in the freezing cold – but it does mean he now sleeps in as little clothes as possible.

He hears you stir when he walks to your side of the room and blows out the candles there, but he ignores it and returns to his side before climbing into the bed. As always, he turns his back to you, stares into the darkness and listens to your breathing.

Steady.

"I know you're awake," he says after a moment.

He's not sure you know that you snore when you sleep. It's not bothersome at all, the sound resembles the light purring of a kitten. On nights where sleep eludes him, the sound helps to calm his mind and lull him into a slumber.

That is how he knows that you are only pretending to sleep.

You don't stir, and after a while he assumes that you are choosing to ignore him. The moment he closes his eyes, he hears your voice call out to him.

"Robb?"

He hums in response, not wanting to seem too eager to reconcile.

"Don't ever raise your voice to me in that manner again."

Your tone is flat and unemotional, but the words are extremely sobering for Robb. He's rendered speechless, and no other words are spoken by either of you that night.

***

The bridge connecting the Great Keep to the Armoury offers the best view of the courtyard in Winterfell. That is where you go to forget your troubles, distracting yourself with the activities happening below you. But even watching the bustling of people fails you this afternoon. All you can think about is the night before.

Deep down you know that you provoked Robb into having that row, simply to avoid having a difficult conversation. You did not realise that was what you were doing until you had some time to yourself. And yet, you cannot seem to stop yourself from thinking about Robb's reaction.

He has never presented himself as a man who is quick to anger.

Neither did Joffrey. Not at first.

You shake those thoughts out of your head almost as soon as you have them. Robb is not like Joffrey, of that you are certain. He is...attentive, in the ways that matter.

Not a single stew or soup has been served to you since you told him about your unusual diet. He found out you enjoy lemon cakes, and before long there was a lemon tree growing in the glass garden. And not once has he complained about the fire you keep burning in your chambers before you sleep even though you know he despises the heat.

Joffrey was never that way, even before he revealed his true colours.

Perhaps this is all you will ever have, you don't have to love him to bear his children. A kind husband is more than most have. Shouldn't that be enough?

It is at this moment that Robb arrives at the top of the bridge, emerging from the armoury with Lord Umber in tow. He sees you standing there, right in the middle of the bridge, looking out onto the courtyard. There's a distant look in your eyes as you stare down, and Robb knows exactly what is weighing on your heart.

You don't notice him or Lord Umber until they are only a few steps away from you, at which point you quickly stand up straight.

"Your Grace," you curtsey to Robb as you always do around other people.

Lord Umber bows his head to you, "Your Grace."

"My Lady, this is Lord Umber. You might remember meeting him at our wedding feast?"

His face is unfamiliar, "My apologies, Lord Umber, I met quite a few people that night."

"No need to apologise, Your Grace," he laughs heartily, "The ale flowed freely that night, I'm not sure I remember our meeting either."

All three of you share a laugh at that, but before the conversation can continue any further, Robb turns to Lord Umber.

"Lord Umber, might you wait for me by my solar? I would like to speak to my wife in private."

"Of course, Your Grace." he bows his head to you both and walks past you towards the Great Keep.

Robb turns to you once you're alone, but he does not speak. He notices that the smile you put on for Lord Umber has faded, and the sadness in your eyes has returned. Your words from the night before play over in his mind, as they have been all morning. He knows that your upset at this present moment is because of him and only him, and for that, he's ashamed.

After a moment, he turns to face the courtyard, arms resting against the railing. You watch him, curious about his troubled expression, before joining him. Your forearm brushes against his as you stand next to him, waiting for him to speak.

"I'm sorry for raising my voice at you," he says, eyes downcast, "I did not mean to frighten you, and I will never do it again."

You didn't expect an apology, not for this. Many men have done worse to their wives without a second thought, but as you glance at Robb out of the corner of your eye, it is clear that he is remorseful. It warms your heart.

"Thank you," you whisper, "And I am sorry too."

"What for?"

"Picking a fight," you look up at him, "I should not have taken your decision so personally."

Robb nods briefly, accepting your apology – one he is surprised to receive because he knows that you still believe he is making the wrong choice.

"I'm trying to be like my father," he explains with a heavy sigh, "I want to fight this war in the most honourable way I can. And if I resort to spying and trickery to win, how would I be any different to my enemies? To Joffrey?"

At those words, you turn your head sharply to look at him. Your eyes soften when they meet his.

"You are a good man, Robb. Nothing like Joffrey."

The hint of a smile plays on his lips.

"I know you don't believe this, but I truly do value your advice," he says, "Even if I don't always agree, I would still like to know your opinion on those choices. Don't ever hesitate to tell me what you think."

You stand side by side, overlooking the courtyard. Down by the guest house, a little boy and girl are wrestling in the mud. Within seconds, a woman who you assume is their mother appears by their side and begins scolding them over their spoiled garments. She pulls them away from the scene by their ears, the two children giggling as she does so.

You and Robb both laugh as this unfolds, revelling in the innocence and mischief of childhood.

"They remind me of Arya and Bran," he says, a mournful look in his eyes.

The same urge to console him when he first opened up to you about his father overwhelms you once again. But instead of drawing back, this time, you place your hand over his, and he welcomes it without hesitation.

You lean against his shoulder and give his hand a comforting squeeze as he absent-mindedly strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. A simple touch but it’s enough to make you wish things were different.

"Do you think we will ever be happy?" you suddenly ask, "The way my mother and father are? The way yours were?"

Robb doesn't know how to respond to that. Mostly because in the midst of this seemingly endless war, he has been unable to envision life beyond it. But judging by your question, you may have started to, so it may be time for him to start as well.

He looks down at you with a thoughtful expression. "I don't know," he answers honestly, "But I hope so."

That makes you smile. You hold his gaze for a moment, only tearing your eyes away when the deep blue of his begin to grow too intense for your comfort.

You chuckle nervously and nod your head towards the Great Keep as you stand up straight, "Lord Umber must be waiting for you."

Robb blinks as if the fact had slipped his mind. "Of course," he says quickly with a bow and you regret that he chose to be so formal.

You watch him as he walks away, but he stops after a few paces and turns back to face you.

"I'm going into town later, I thought you might accompany me if you'd like," his tone is cheery, "I have some business to attend to, but you can visit the market while we're there?"

It is a kind offer, but you simply want to be alone with your thoughts for now.

"I'm afraid I'm not feeling up to it today," you say apologetically, "But I thank you for the invitation."

Robb is disappointed with your answer to say the least, but he does not let it show. Instead, he nods in understanding with a wistful smile and heads back inside, leaving you alone on the bridge.

You turn your attention back to the courtyard, resting your arms on the railing and letting out a deep sigh. That is when you notice the very familiar silhouette of a man.

His back is to you while he talks to another man just outside the armoury. Even though he's far away and you cannot see his face, he looks too familiar.

There is absolutely no chance.

You lean so far forward that only a few inches more and you'd fall over the railing. The man throws his head back and laughs. Instantly a pit forms in your stomach.

You know that laugh.

Your body begins to move faster than you can think. Within seconds you've hitched up your skirts and ran back into the Great Keep. Your heart is beating out of your chest with every step down the stairs. There are no thoughts in your head. All you hear is that laugh and the thumping of your heart.

In the courtyard there's people bustling about everywhere. You want to scream at them to stop moving so that you can see. To stop talking so that you can think. Your shoes and the bottom of your dress are caked in mud as you run from one end of the courtyard to the other, frantically searching for him.

The armoury. He was standing in front of the armory.

You take off running in that direction, stepping in puddles and all kinds of dirt and muck on the way. Once inside, you stop to catch your breath, panting heavily as you look around, hoping to catch sight of him. All you see are large, oily men carrying pounds of steel, shields, armour and all sorts.

You begin to wonder if you only imagined seeing him. Your mind playing some kind of sick trick on you. It wouldn't be surprising considering everything that has happened recently.

Just as you are about to let it go, a hand grabs your shoulder and turns you around.

The black hair. Those blue eyes.

You forget how to breathe for a moment. Completely frozen in shock. It's like the whole building goes silent and all you can hear is your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You're sure he calls your name, but you find yourself incapable of doing anything but stare at him in confusion and awe.

This is not real. This is not real.

You cannot allow yourself to believe that this is happening because the devastation if it's not real is not one you will recover from easily. With a shaky hand, you reach out to touch his face. Before you can even cup his cheek, he takes your hand and leans into it.

A stuttered breath escapes your lips as tears start to flow freely down your cheeks.

"Gendry."

*

Special thanks to these lovely people (and extra shoutout to everyone who called it 😉) Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 💞 (@’s in bold I can’t seem to tag :/):

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[alloftheimagines]

mason kane | you are a memory

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

words: 3000+

warnings: set during citadel ep3, angst, pain, blood, nothing more than what's in the show

prompt: Reader/oc is a spy for citadel too but she known she was a citadel spy she was safe when the fall happened and when the train event happened and reader thought that they would let mason live a life without the spy life and them so she would continue help out with rebuilding citadel back up etc. maybe building some assets etc then when Nadia and he goes to the safe house they meet back up there some way or another if that makes sense to like Nadia some how got in contact with reader??  tag: @thefictionalgemini

It feels like you’ve waited centuries for that sound: the door opening. For years, you’ve lived in the safe house alone, never stopping your search for other Citadel members and doing what you can to aid them when needed. But few of them survived, and even less had reason to come to you. 

But you knew, somehow — or at least hoped — that he would come home. That you’d see him again. 

It feels like a dream, then, when Nadia steps through the threshold, offering you a crooked, familiar smirk before shifting aside so he’s in full view behind. There’s a sorrow in her eyes you don’t dare unpack, not yet. For now, your gaze crawls across his frame. He’s barely changed. Hair still short and brushed back, eyes still that unbearably bright blue. Laughter lines bracket his cheeks along with rough, red-tinted stubble, and it feels like no time has passed at all now. An eternity shrinks between you in a second, and your heart restarts, your world turning to colour. 

“Mason,” you whisper, voice cracking, tears brimming. You want to run to him, fall into him and never let go, but Nadia is watching and… he is, too, with furrowed brows. Confused. 

A cold wave crashes through you as you look at Nadia again, and her nod confirms your fear. He doesn’t know you. 

Mason clears his throat, dropping the case to the ground and rubbing his hands together as though trying to warn him. “We know each other, then. You’re the one Nadia told me about. Y/N?” Your name twists across his tongue like a stumbling dancer in their first lesson. Unsure of the steps. Unsure of how it should sound. 

Something inside you cracks, but in all your solitary years here, you’ve never allowed yourself to succumb to all the pain and grief dwelling inside you. You’ve never let yourself give up, not on him or on Citadel. So you tip your chin and hope it doesn’t wobble. 

“I guess you could say that. I was usually in your ear.” You tap an imaginary earpiece, feeling awkward and stiff and lost. More lost, more alone, than you have in this empty house for years. “I worked on communications in Citadel. Never usually in the field.”

“I can’t believe you’re here after all these years,” Nadia said, voice soft as always. It’s clear that while Mason has lost his memories, she has found hers just fine, and you wonder how that’s fair. How it came to be.  “How did you know we were coming?”

“I didn’t. I’ve been here since we went dark ten years ago.”

“Are there more?” Mason glanced around, rubbing the back of his neck. “More people waiting for us?”

You shake your head, a pang of well-hidden grief shooting through you. “No. Just me.”

His gaze snaps to you without warning, piercing and all-consuming and utterly surprised. “You’ve been hiding here alone for the last decade?”

“Yep. So if I start talking to myself, don’t be too worried. I’m not used to company.” You smirk and turn away from him, rubbing your aching sternum. “It was Carter who told me to head here. Said he’d be in contact. We were back and forth for years until he went dark, too. The only connection with Citadel I had left. I tried to track him down, but… I don’t have the field experience. Not like you. Think he’s alive, though.”

“You know where he could be?” Nadia asked. 

“I have my theories.”

“As much as I’d love to hear them, I need a shower first. That okay?”

“Knock yourself out.”

She traipses up the stairs with a final, pointed glance as though to say “You’re welcome" for leaving you alone with him. But you’re the opposite of thankful. In front of Nadia, you might be able to act professionally. Unaffected. But it’s just the two of you now, and the man you love doesn’t even know you, and he’d always had a knack for completely unravelling you. 

The silence is stifling. You motion to the living room, to the couch. “You should sit. You look like you’ve had a rough time of it.”

His smile is wry. “That’s one word for it.”

You follow him in, and he sighs as he plonks himself down. He pulls a lighter from his pocket and begins flicking it, and for a moment you’re certain that you were wrong; that he knows himself, knows you. It’s such an old, familiar habit. So many times you listened to that metallic click, let it soothe you as you figured out a plan today. 

He catches you watching, then, and hope is washed away as quickly as it came. There’s none of that old fondness in his eyes, even if natural confidence still oozes from him like blood from a wound. 

He’s Mason, but he isn’t your Mason. 

The man you’ve been waiting for, the man for whom you prayed over and over to be alive, is not here anymore.

“Didn’t Bernard ever contact you?” he asks finally. 

“No.” You narrow your eyes, wishing you were comfortable enough to sit beside him. Wishing you could reach out, touch him. Ask him where he’s been. You’re not sure you want to know. A lot can happen in ten years, especially to a man who doesn’t know his own name. “Should he have?”

“He’s the one who came to me. Told me who I was. He needed my help.”

That bastard. He’d left you in the dark. Disposed of you. You want to believe that he walked away too, that he needed it to be this way to keep any agents still living safe, but… He could have contacted you. Could have found you here. This safe house is one of the few Citadel-owned places left untouched, unknown by your enemies. Perhaps the silence had protected you, but it also drove you crazy. You’d felt like a prisoner most days, always waiting for your computer to ping or an agent to show up and liberate you. 

You’d wasted your life waiting. For Bernard. For Mason. For Citadel. 

Your fists clench at your sides, and you can no longer look at Mason. “I didn’t think you’d made it out,” you admitted, voice thickening just slightly. “I thought you were dead.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “I don’t understand,” he said quietly. “They just left you here, no contact with any of us? Why?”

“Maybe they didn’t want anybody finding out about this place. It’s the only sanctuary we have left. They wouldn’t compromise that by communicating with me, and honestly, I didn’t know what else to do. Citadel was my life. I had to keep trying, keep hoping…” 

It’s a lie, of course. Mason was your life. Citadel was a close second. Bernard had known that; perhaps that’s why he hadn’t bothered to find a way through to you. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted you to know that Mason was still alive, because you’d never been discrete about your feelings for him. You wouldn’t have let him go without a fight, and they’d needed their entire operations to become invisible. 

They needed him to forget while you stayed here, a ghost in a house much too big for one person. They’d known that you’d wait for eternity if it meant the chance to see him again.

You finally sit in the armchair across from him, folding your hands on your lap as anger glows like embers in your gut. “I thought you were dead,” you admit. “Carter told me about the train, the explosion… He told me you were probably dead. Both of you.”

Mason looks down at his hands. “I can’t get my memories back. They were destroyed. Gone. I know that I should know you, but I don’t.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I guessed as much.” 

“There’s no other way, right?”

You shake your head solemnly. “Not that I know of. Then again, nobody tells me anything, clearly.” You can’t help the bitterness seeping into your words. 

He rubs a thumb across his chin. “It’s weird. I feel like…” He trails off, and you lean forward curiously. 

“What?” 

A shrug. “I’ve seen your face before. I got flashes sometimes — memories, I guess. You were in them.”

Your heart lifts just a little. 

“And your voice.” His volume lowers. “I heard it. I never knew whose it was. Thought I was going crazy. But it’s yours. It was you.”

Your fingers begin to tremble. You don’t know what to say. It feels cruel, somehow, him telling you this. Dangling hope in front of your face. He can’t know how much it hurts, of course, but it makes you grit your teeth all the same. 

“So where did you end up all these years?” you ask, hoping the answer might give you some closure. Some truth. 

“I went by Kyle. Got married. Had a daughter.” His mouth upturns at the corners, and it makes you want to die. 

He got a new life. You were here, rotting, waiting, and he was making a family. 

“Where are they now?” 

“Back home,” he says. “With Bernard’s wife. Safe.”

You nod. It’s an effort to keep your features smooth as your gaze snags on a bloodied tear in his jacket. “You’re hurt.”

In an instant, you’re up, heading into the kitchen to grab a first aid kit. When you get back, you motion to his jacket and he takes it off obediently, wincing. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

A deep one, clearly made by a bullet. You sigh and perch beside him, forgetting that you should probably ask before getting this close to him. Forgetting that you’re not the one who should be tending to his wounds anymore. 

He hisses when you dab the saline-soaked cloth to the graze. 

“You used to be tougher,” you tease. 

He smirks at that, crooked and warm if not steel-edged as a knife. Electricity buzzes through you, because you’ve missed the way he tries not to laugh at your shitty jabs. The way he tries to hide his humour, but it comes out through his cracks all the same. “I wouldn’t know.” And then: “Will you come with us to find Carter?”

The question throws you off-guard, and you look around. This prison is also your shelter, and you’re not sure you know how to jump back into the real world, a world of crime and violence and him. He’s married. He isn’t yours. And why should you aid them, when Bernard cut you away from the rest of the group so cleanly? 

“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I’ve been hiding for a long time. I think I’m more useful here.”

“We could use all the help we can get.” 

The cloth comes away red, but the bleeding has stopped. You get the bandages ready and hum, pretending to deliberate. 

He stops you with a hand across yours. “I mean it. I don’t remember how to do this.”

“It’ll come to you.” You snatch your hand away; keep unrolling the bandage. Maybe it’s weak, maybe it’s cowardly, but you need a moment to breathe after this. Need a moment to adjust to a world where Mason isn’t dead, but still isn’t Mason. You need to figure out if keeping this house safe, keeping Citadel and its missing members safe, is worth it after the way they’ve pushed you aside. 

“We need you.”

“You did okay without me for the last ten years,” you snap, wishing immediately you could take it back. 

Overwhelmed, you abandon the bandages and the wound, averting your gaze because even now it feels too heavy, too dangerous. Like he could strip your skin and bones away if he wanted. Like he could leave you raw. 

You used to like that about him. Now you hate it. More so because he doesn’t even realise he’s capable of it. 

“I was living a lie.” His voice is firmer now. Raspier. “I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t choose it!” 

“Neither did I!” you erupt. “I thought you were dead, Mason! I was here, alone, always wondering if you were. Wondering whether anything would ever change! And now you’re here and you don’t know me, but you’re asking me to be somebody I haven’t been in a very long time. What am I supposed to do with that? How the hell am I supposed to be okay with it?”

A wrinkle burrows between his brows. For moments, he remains unreadable until he finally looks up at you. “We weren’t just working together, were we?”

You can’t answer him. You don’t want to have to tell him that you were in love, that everything that made life worth living had been snatched away the day he went missing. 

“Tell me,” he demands, standing up. “Tell me, Y/N. Were we together?”

Your chin wobbles, and you can’t keep pretending. You can’t keep ignoring the hole in your chest. “Yes.” 

It’s clear he doesn’t know what to say, and you know that there is nothing he could. Nothing that would make it easier, at least. You are cursed, the one who will remember. The only one who longs for endless nights tangled between the sheets and stupid back-and-forths through his earpiece. You’re the only one who remembers the rush you felt when you worked together, him in the field and you safe by your computer. 

You’re the only one who remembers the night he told you he loved you, and the morning you said it back. He gets to move on, gets to feel nothing but indifference, while you carry a decades’ worth of grief and yearning and pain on your back. And you could deal with that before, when your days were made of aimlessly checking for messages or signs of Citadel activity and scrambling your eggs and staying in your pyjamas because nobody saw you anyway, but now he is inescapable and you find yourself wanting to shut the door in his face just so you don’t have to look at it and see the man you used to know buried under the haze and amnesia and this new life you have not been apart of. 

Eventually, he steps forward — and somehow looks apologetic. “I wish I remembered,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. But do you honestly want to stay here, alone? There must have been a reason you stayed. It wasn’t just for the view, right?”

For you, you want to say. I was waiting for you.

But he’s right. Your memories might remain intact, but you were once much more than this. You were quick, determined, unrelenting. It had taken years before you stopped searching for sign of Mason every day. But you had. You’d dwindled. Perhaps you’d given up without realising it. 

The person you used to be would never have grown this despondent. You would have stitched your own broken heart back together and yanked back your power, proving to Citadel you’re a worthy asset. The only one skilled enough to perform what they needed. To fight terrorism and organised crime from behind a screen. 

You miss that fire in your belly. Now, it's no more than ash. 

Finally, you turn your hardened stare back to him. “No. It wasn’t just for the view.”

He nods as though he knows your mind has changed, determination sharpening his own face. “Then you’ll help us.”

“I’ll help you,” you decide. Even if it hurts. Even if you’re not sure you want to anymore. 

The back of his hand brushes yours, and your skin tingles. You look down and know it was no accident; his fingers twitch from the impact like a bird stunned after hitting the window. When you lock eyes, you see a flicker of him. Your Mason. Arrogance and softness all at once. A lion ready to pounce because he’s never known how to stay still. How did he manage it, being a family man? 

What did he think when he saw glimpses of you?

It doesn’t matter. Your Mason might be gone, but so is Kyle. He’s someone new now, and you’ll just have to get to know this new version of him. 

Just as he’ll have to get to know this new version of you. You’re not sure who you’ll be yet, still scarred and unsure, but you think that if he can walk through your door and find you against all odds,, maybe you can find him, too. 

He keeps his eyes on the view behind the window, eyes turning the same forest green as the trees outside. Still, his arm is warm against yours, his broad shoulders squared and ready. 

“Good,” he mutters, sending you a half-smile. “Because I’m going to need somebody to tell me who I really am. Who Mason Kane is.”

That, you might just be able to do. “An asshole,” you quip dryly. “Mason Kane was an asshole.” And god, did he love it when you said so. 

As though it’s ingrained in his muscle memory, Mason lets out a chuckle — half-joy and half-disbelief. He raises his brow, flirtatious though you’re not sure he knows it yet. “That right?”

“Yep.” You cross your arms over your chest and try to stifle your hope, but it’s no use. It comes anyway. “With a capital A.”

This man might not be Mason, but he’s a hell of a lot like him. For now, that has to be enough.

#imagines #multifandom imagines #x reader imagines #x reader #multi fandom imagines #multifandom #fanfiction #mason kane #citadel on prime #imagine masterlist #masterlist #citadel #richard madden #mason kane imagine #mason kane x reader #richard madden one shot #richard madden imagine #richard madden x reader #richard madden fic #citadel imagine #citadel fic #citadel x reader #mason kane x y/n #richard madden x y/n #citadel fanfiction

[beananacake]

The Accidental Princess (Part 11)

Prince Kit x Reader

Synopsis: A contract has been found after twenty years, bearing your name and the Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter Synopsis: Kit does all that he could to find you

Word Count: 13.3k words

Warnings: angst, violence, mentions of murder, period-typical misogyny, poorly translated German, if I miss out on anything lmk

A/N: Hiya! Long time no update! So, I'm very very sorry it took me this long to write it. And I'm also sorry that I said it would be one large chapter but as I'm looking into it, it felt like a lot was happening to just have it in part. So, here is 11. There would be a 12 and an Epilogue (let us hope I stick to that the next time I update). As per usual, I love hearing your thoughts. They fuel me to write more! Your comments, suggestions, requests (and reblogs) are so very much welcome! Not beta'd, mistakes are mine. Here is Part 11!

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Epilogue

“Did it help?” Louis asked as he handed his cousin a goblet of wine. “When you threatened him?”

Kit sat by the fireplace in his father’s room once more. He drank the wine he was given, prolonging his reply to his cousin’s question because he would not give him a satisfactory answer.

It did not help him at all. He thought that if he were to threaten the man with death, he would spew all his knowledge of what he had done. Instead, the man took pleasure in watching his outburst and only inflamed it with insults of him and you. He would not tell him of where you were, only goaded him of the possibility of your demise if he did not find you soon.

The nobleman was the devil incarnate.

He killed the benevolent queen to gain riches of a kingdom that was not his, killed his mother just because he could. And he praised you for uncovering his plot but did not disclose where he had kept you. The man only held contempt for the two women in Kit’s life and he took great joy in eliminating them to seat a woman from his life to be the queen of the kingdom. Kit had to remind himself that Chelina had not known any of her uncle’s plans, and therefore was not at fault for anything that had happened.

“No.” Kit replied in a gravelly voice. “It did not. It only made me angrier at him.”

Louis sighed, taking a seat before his cousin. “But you held back as much as you could, cousin.”

“If you had not been there, I would have killed him.” He watched as the flames danced in the fireplace. The way it flickered mimicked the cacophony of the rain outside, swaying here and there with no definite direction nor rhythm. It shadowed the turmoil in the prince. The flames, he could douse. The tumult inside him, he cannot.

“And I would remain as clueless as I am now as to where Y/N is.” Kit took his eyes off the fire and looked at his cousin. “Thank you for stopping me, Louis.”

“Sometimes I think I was born to keep your head level, cousin,” he said jollily as he sat back on his seat.

Kit felt himself smile weakly at his cousin’s jape.

“You must rest,” Louis insisted after a while of silence. “Chelina would not hear of me going out to investigate without proper sleep. I feel she would want you to do the same thing.”

He shook his head. “I cannot sit by while she is out there in the storm. I need to find her.”

“Kit, it is nearly midnight. I do not think you would be able to see anything with the darkness and the storm.” Louis told him, turning towards the window and his cousin followed his action. The trees swayed violently, fat raindrops battered against the window. The storm rattled the glass as it grew in intensity by the minute. The whole room shook when new thunder roared after a crack of lightning lit the gloomy sky.

Kit had never feared the storm more than he had at that moment.

“So would she.” Kit insisted.

“My men and yours are already looking for her.”

“It is not enough.”

“I know it isn’t but it is the best we have at the moment.”

“Not if I join them.”

“Kit. Cousin.” Louis sighed. “I myself would have gone out there, even in rougher conditions, to help find her but I do not think I would be of any help while I am tired. I would only slow down the people looking for her.”

He knew his cousin was right. Kit was not fit to search for you, especially now that he felt the start of his hunger and fatigue. While he did not want you to wait, he needed to rest his body so he may be better prepared to join the party in search for you.

“Get out of your wet clothes, cousin. A warm bath will do you good.”

Kit heeded his cousin’s advice without any further arguments and took a bath in his chambers. The warm water cooled his chilled bones but it did not assuage the coldness he felt with you being gone still. He longed to have you in his arms, enveloped in his embrace as he promised to never let harm come your way. He wanted to spare you from all the evils in the world. He would keep you with him so he may defend you from anything that would hurt you.

If only he found you.

Kit rested his head against the edge of the tub, looking at the ceiling as he thought of the last time you had been with him. He should have prolonged the kiss, should not have minded Abigail’s presence and continued his sweet ministrations to your lips—and more, if you had been as enthused with the idea of it as he was—in the carriage as you were heading home. If he hadn’t brought you to the Great Study, he would not have seen the heartbreak in your eyes at his father’s news of the nullification of your marriage. It was the last thing he had seen before you left him to go to the Grand Duke. He would not want that to be his final memory of you.

He stayed in his bath for as long as he could, until the water had gone equally cold as his room. He could not move, would not move because if he had, he would have scoured the whole kingdom for you. To search for you was the only thing he was to do; the Grand Duke was in custody and would not cause any further harm, his father was recuperating well, and all pieces of evidence were with Thibault, where he would arrange them to make the case against the nobleman more compelling.

When he returned to his father’s chambers, he found his cousin poring over paperwork at the long table. Princess Chelina sat next to him, equally busy with writing her own missive.

“I will be in the study, cousin,” Kit told Louis, who had looked up. “There are some businesses I must be getting back to.”

“Of course. We will keep watch of my uncle.” Louis nodded.

“Do not forget to rest, Kit. You must keep your health if you wish join the search for your wife.” Chelina told him.

Kit thanked them both. He ordered the footmen standing guard outside his father’s room to call for him should any need arise. He also ordered a maid to bring more refreshment and snacks for his cousin, the princess, and the physician.

Kit walked to the study with slow steps, mind occupied with thoughts of how to torture your whereabouts from the nobleman. As much as it would ease the torture, he thought against using cruel devices, knowing his cousin would disapprove of that. And the Grand Duke would have welcomed the pain, seeing as he was not afraid of the sword against his neck when Kit had confronted him earlier that night. The man was demented.

He entered the library first, with the intention of searching for the book you had written in the letter. He trusted his cousin’s report of not having seen it but he knew in him that he must look for it himself, just to confirm that it was indeed missing. He remembered the shelf where you had returned it but, true enough, the space was devoid of the book. The dark, empty gap stood stark against the colorful spines of the other books. He searched through each of the books, hoping it had been kept in another place but he could not find it. He was disappointed by the lack of it but he was hopeful for the other evidence they have gathered.

He went on ahead to the Great Study, to the table he claimed for his own use and found the paperwork the nobleman had left for him to peruse. They were for the transfer of the ownership of the ridges and islands from his father’s name to the Princess Chelina’s. Beneath that mountain of paper sat another marriage contract, this time bare of the names of the parties to be married. Kit knew it was for him and the princess. The Grand Duke wasted no time in seating and establishing his niece to be the new queen of the kingdom. Ambitious man, Kit thought bitterly.

Kit disregarded those papers and resumed on different matters. For the rest of the evening, he pored over businesses of the kingdom, signing treaties, and implementing laws that he knew would better the land. He also worked on his mother’s proposal, now without the constraint of the Grand Duke’s objection. He continued on until the room had grown considerably cold and dark.

He went to the fireplace with intentions of adding more logs to the dying embers when he saw a slip of blue in all the ash and soot. Taking a fire iron, he pulled out the blue piece. What came with it were pages of texts and botanical illustrations. He turned the burned book over and read its title, only to stop when he realized what it was.

His mother’s German herbology book. The very one he had been looking for.

The Grand Duke had burnt a piece of evidence against him.

Bringing the remnants of the herbology book with him, Kit headed for Captain Thibault’s offices. The Captain looked up in surprise at the prince’s sudden appearance.

“Your Royal Highness.” Thibault said as he rose from his seat to bow at his friend.

“I found it.” Kit dropped the book on the table.

“Is this the—”

“Herbology book, yes.” He turned it over and showed the Captain the creased spine, luckily unburnt given the state of the rest of the book. “The reason why my cousin could not find it was because it had been burned in the Great Study’s fireplace.”

The Captain inspected the book, flipping the pages to see what had remained. “The crease does indeed open immediately to Digitalis purpurea but half of the page, and most of the book, is burnt.”

He pointed at the title of the illustration, at the words Digitalis purp-- and looked at the prince.

“But isn’t what matters is I had found it burnt? It is the Grand Duke trying to burn any evidence against him. How he knew of the book, I could not care less but now that we have it, wouldn’t it make for compelling evidence against him?”

“That is not for me to say, Kit, but I will present this to the magistrate, along with the others that you have gathered.” Thibault said.

That satisfied the prince. He sat heavily on one of the seats, mind exhausted. He refused to return to the stuffy, cold Great Study and so he stayed in his friend’s office as he rested his mind.

“The Grand Duke hasn’t confessed to anything more,” Thibault told him.

“Where is he kept?”

“In the first cell of the east dungeons.”

Kit nodded. “Have you searched him for any personal effects that he might use on you or the guards?”

“We did not find anything but we gave him a change of clothes so that we may inspect his garments further. He had no complaints.”

“Keep any sword or dagger away from his cell.” Kit commanded. “And starve him. Do not give him any food or water, not until he confesses to whatever else he has done.”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness.” Thibault closed the burnt tome and added it to his pile of evidence. “The apothecary has agreed to testify against the Grand Duke. Once I send all the evidence to the Magistrate, they will schedule a trial.”

“Good.”

And it was, Kit thought as he started to pace the length of the Captain’s office. He had found all of the proof against the man, the apothecary was willing to testify, and with enough persuasion, so would the former royal physician. He had everything to indict the man and make him pay for his transgressions.

It was nearly done.

All that was left was for you to be found.

“There is still no news of her,” Thibault told him, as though he could read the direction of the prince’s thoughts. “But do not lose heart, Kit—”

That stopped the prince’s pacing. He speared the Captain with a look, not of anger but of desperation.

“She has not been found, Thibault! What if we are too late! What if all they can find of her is her corpse?” he cried passionately. “I cannot bear to be without her. I do not think I can live without her. She is my wife even when that damned paper says otherwise!”

He sat heavily on the seat and cradled his head in his palms, the exhaustion of the day finally dawning on him. He had finished his tasks and he should have been happy with the result but the one task that mattered the most to him was yet to be resolved. He could not function without you; he knew that much to be true. He had to find you, for your sake and his.

“I have failed her. I promised her father I would take care of her and I did not—have not.”

“We have our best men out to look for her. She will be found. I promise you that.”

He felt a fat tear roll down his cheek and he wiped at it, shaking his head desolately. He was a failure as a husband to you.

“My mother… I was not able to save my mother from the Grand Duke. And now my wife…”

Kit swallowed thickly. He did not like the picture his mind had conjured.

“I would not forgive myself if we are too late.”

Thibault did not speak. Kit was silent for the remainder of the hour, only sat there as his friend finished his business. He was not disturbed in his musings—for that, Kit was thankful of his friend—and when it was time for him to leave, the Captain only bid him a good night.

The storm had lessened significantly as the night progressed. Kit hoped you had found shelter and that you were safe, even if the conditions were not favorable. He wished someone had found you and had offered to house you until the storm had passed. He hoped and wished and pled. It was all he could do for the time being. But the moment the Grand Duke would reveal where you were, he would come for you himself.

He entered his father’s room and was surprised to see his cousin and the princess still keeping watch of the king. They had a game of cards between them, perhaps in a way to keep awake until he returned.

“I will look after my father now,” Kit announced to them. “It will be safe to return to your chambers. The Grand Duke will not be a threat to us. Thibault has him kept in the dungeons.”

“I can stay, cousin—” Louis said as he put down his cards.

Kit shook his head. “You have done enough, Louis. Please, rest. I shall see you again in the morning.”

Louis sighed but he relented. He helped the princess to her feet.

“You must rest as well, Kit.” Chelina told him as she placed her hand on the crook of Louis’s elbow. “Call on me to look after the king when you shall be taking your rest.”

“Thank you,” he told her, having no intention to disturb the princess’s slumber, and bid them a good night.

He watched them leave together. He then walked to his father’s bed and kept vigil by his side. He did not know of what to speak with his father. Whilst they were candid with one another, with the king’s current state, Kit did not know if telling him the truth of his mother’s death was ideal.

“Father.” Kit sighed as he held the king’s hand. He had kept watch of his father for an hour, no words spoken until the weight of his burden became unbearable.

“Father, I… I do not know what to do.” He watched the gentle rise and fall of his father’s chest, listened to his rhythmic breathing, and timed it with his own.

“I am unprepared. I am at a loss of what else should be done. I know that you have prepared me for when this time will arrive but I am humble enough to admit that I cannot take this on without your help. So, please. I beg of you, wake up. I need all the help you can offer.”

The king did not respond. The prince did not expect him to.

“You cannot give me your adviser. He has done a great sin to the kingdom but most especially to us. I cannot tell you while you are asleep but even when you are awake, as imperative it is for you to know, I would not want you to relive the hurt you felt upon mother’s death.”

His father remained unmoving on his bed.

Kit sighed deeply.

“He has stolen Y/N away from me. It had been a day and I fear that she is somewhere unsafe. The storm aggravates my thoughts but even if it were not raining, I would still worry for her welfare. Unless she is beside me, then I will continue to worry.

“I love her, Father. More than my life. More than the crown I will be wearing if you decide not to awake. If you will shun me, then I have no choice but to accept it. She has become my life in the short time I have gotten to know her. I cannot be without her.

“You must forgive me if my wishes do not align with yours. My only sin was to love someone I should not. She is faultless. Do not blame her for the love I have for her.”

He squeezed his father’s hand. The king did not return the gesture.

“Have I told you how wonderful she is? She treats everyone with kindness and fairness. She does not judge. She thinks of everyone else’s welfare before her own.” He gave a soft, sad chuckle at the memory of your first time in the square with him. “I believe I have not told you of the time she refused a free apple because she did not want the man to lose money for not selling it. It might seem insignificant to you but to me, I saw the goodness in her heart. She did have told me she wanted the whole of the kingdom to succeed, even the smallest of us.”

Kit squeezed his father’s hand once more. Every memory of you ached in his chest.

“It was her who discovered the truth of mother’s death.” The prince said in a whisper. His throat worked. “She had offered to help the kitchen staff label the tea leaves and it was how she found the poison that killed mother.

“She discovered it all on her own, Father. Just from the tea leaves, she deduced mother was murdered and she launched an investigation. I have it all in her writing. She gave a detailed account of her findings in the letter she was smart enough to leave with Louis before the Grand Duke had discovered what she knew of his sins.

“She is the reason you survived. When she plunged her hand in your throat, it was because she knew you were poisoned by hemlock. The emetic she was to use for herself, she used on you so you may live. She has done many things for us that we do not know.”

Kit yawned and felt the heaviness come down his eyelids.

“Y/N may not be born a royal, Father, but she is my princess. I will not marry anyone else but her.”

He folded his arm atop his father’s bed and rested his head on it. He looked at his father’s sleeping form once more, praying, hoping that he would soon wake.

“I love her, Father. I will marry her again, with or without your blessing.”

He closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him.

Kit felt a gentle brush against his forehead, stirring him from his slumber. He peered from his position, turning to the finger that had parted the hair that hung on his forehead, and saw his father watching him. He sat up immediately, not minding that his back had been sore at the improper position he had slept in. He could not care less for himself, especially now that his father was awake.

“Doctor!” he called.

He grasped his father’s hand in his again, smiling in relief at the sight of him with his eyes opened.

“Kit. Why are you asleep here, my boy?” the king rasped. “Why are you not in your room?”

The prince could only chuckle and squeezed his father’s hand tightly. “We were worried for you, father. You had been asleep for more than a day.”

The physician came over and began his medical ministrations about the king, checking his overall health. Kit ordered a footman to announce to his cousin and the princess that the king was awake.

“What has happened while I was asleep?” the king asked.

Kit hesitated to tell him, not wanting to send his father into another fit at the revelations of the days past. But he knew that prolonging the inevitable would only hurt his father more. And the king was bound to know the truth.

“You have been poisoned, Father.” he said.

“Poisoned?” the king echoed confusedly.

Kit nodded, grim as he told his father all that had happened that night. He spared no information and did not mince words as he told him of the treachery the Grand Duke had done. He watched the emotions that came upon the king’s face. There was betrayal and anger but it was mostly despondence and despair upon the truth of his wife’s death. The king was silent when he listened to his son but there was the unmistakeable anger in him that even the prince was afraid of.

“Where is the Grand Duke?” the king asked as he moved to stand from his bed.

The physician denied his efforts and gently pushed him down the bed, telling him that he would need to keep his health up before he could resume his business.

“We have him in our custody in the dungeons. I would be speaking with him later to know where he had kept Y/N.” Kit said. “We are yet to find her. Louis has sent his men, so had Captain Thibault but there is still no news of her.”

“Kit—”

He held up a hand to stop the king from speaking any further. He would not want to hear his father dissuade him from finding you.

“No, father. You cannot sway me.” Kit told him. “I want her found. I will join the search party if I have to. I have done everything you had asked of me before but if you now tell me to sit by and call off the search, then you must forgive me when I disobey you. This is my wife we are speaking about. She has saved you. She has discovered the reason of mother’s death. She has risked her life to deliver proof to us. If you do not think her worthy of me, then I am inclined to think that you are not worthy of her. She is twice more than I will ever be because she is kind and courageous.”

The king watched his son’s impassioned speech and he was reminded of his own youth, when he had told his father of his love for an unknown princess. He and his son were so similar yet so different with one another. His own father had denied him his freedom to choose a bride and he was forced to marry Princess Amalie, who he had the good fortune of falling in love with. But to see his son Kit so passionate of you, the king knew he could not be like his father, would not force his son to face the same ordeal as he had. While the Princess Chelina was the obvious choice as queen of the kingdom, he would not want his son to be unhappy in his marriage.

The king held his son’s hand and squeezed it. “Find her.”

“Father?” Kit asked, confused. He had not anticipated his father to be convinced so easily, especially when he had been adamant of his betrothal to Chelina.

“Find her, Kit, and bring her back.”

Kit entered the Grand Duke’s cell and stood opposite of the man who was shackled against the wall. The Grand Duke watched him with unimpressed eyes and did not move to bow when he had been addressed. He gave no greeting but taunted him instead.

“So, you have me shackled because you are afraid of me,” the nobleman said as he shook his wrist. The chains clanged loudly against each link, echoing in the damp, dark dungeon.

“I am not afraid of you,” Kit replied. “But you should be afraid of the things I will do to you until you tell me my wife’s whereabouts.”

The man’s laugh was short and sarcastic.

“So you resort to violence when you do not have your way? You and I are not so different after all, Your Royal Highness.” The mad man made a grand gesture of bowing at the prince.

“We are different.” The prince ground out. “I am nothing like you, hurting innocents for your own personal gain.”

He snorted when he regained his position. “‘Innocent,’” he said disdainfully. “Your mother was hardly innocent. Did you know how many people she had crossed when she did not want to sell the mines? Or that insolent girl, Y/N? You think her innocent after she has trapped you into a marriage you do not want? They are not so faultless as you let yourself believe.”

“The mines are not any concern of yours. It was the queen’s prerogative to do as she pleased with her property.” Kit advanced to the man and stood just an arm’s reach away from him. “And do not insult my wife. She has discovered what you have done. She was only an innocent investigator and you stole her away from me.”

“That chit has disrespected me—”

“And you surely have disrespected her long before she stood up for herself. Before the divorce, she was a princess and I had never seen you treat her as such. For a nobleman such as yourself, that would be remiss. For the devil that you are, however, I think it in character of you to do so.”

The Grand Duke only glared at the prince. Guards arrived at the confining cell and flanked the man.

“Bring him to the Chapel,” Kit ordered as he watched the Grand Duke be taken out of his shackles.

“Am I to repent for my sins?” the man asked sarcastically as two guards pulled him away. “And I thought you called me the devil.”

Kit ignored him and followed as they went further down the dungeons.

The Chapel was no house of God. It was, ironically, a torture chamber. Built by his predecessors, the torture room was one part of the palace that had remained unchanged in centuries. It boasted of vaulted ceilings reminiscent of those in churches, with trusses from which more shackles swung from where they were hung. It had no windows for light and air to pass through. However, it had a vast array of torture devices covering the walls for any of the Royal Guards to use on criminals.

“Kit, there is still time for you to back—” Thibault said as soon as Kit arrived in the Chapel. The Captain had seen the prince in the battlefield and knew him to be ruthless as a warrior and as a tactician. He knew Kit would not soften every blow he was to deliver just because he had been the king’s adviser.

“I will not back down,” he told his friend, tone unyielding. “I will not lose my soul upon the torture of a clearly deranged and guilty man.”

Thibault only nodded, knowing he could not sway his friend, and stepped aside.

The guards had bound the Grand Duke’s wrists and ankles to the chair in the middle of the Chapel. Kit had taken off his coat and neared him, bringing with him a bucket of water.

“You mean to drown me with a bucket full of water?” The Grand Duke taunted with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “My, my. What an ineffective means of torture.”

“Where is she?” Kit demanded.

The nobleman only looked at the prince before he shrugged his shoulders impassively.

Kit splashed the icy water on him forcefully, causing the man to gasp and sputter in surprise. When the water had drained away, he only looked up at Kit with an unconcerned air.

“You stole her from me! Where is she!” Kit yelled.

He dropped the bucket he held and leaned in closer to the malicious man, spearing him with a hateful glare. The nobleman challenged his stare and said nothing. It only irritated the prince further.

“I will not be kind the next time I ask, Grand Duke. Tell me now—”

“Or what? You will untie me? You will set me free?” His laughter erupted from him and the sarcastic sound grated against Kit’s skin. “What will I get out of my telling you where I had left her?”

“Nothing—”

“Then I say nothing.”

Kit fought against his need to resort to violence and his fist made contact with the nobleman’s gut. The Grand Duke sputtered and coughed yet again but did not reply.

“I did say I will not be kind.” Kit drew back his fist for another pounce.

The Grand Duke eyed him disdainfully.

“Now, I ask again. Where did you take my wife?”

“Aren’t you delusional, boy? Did you not hear what your father told you? You are not married anymore. That girl is not your wife.”

Kit socked him hard in the ear. The force sent the nobleman tumbling, falling heavily on his side, still in his seat. The prince crouched down to the man, seething with anger. There was a small trail of blood that trickled from the man’s ear. Kit did not feel an ounce of remorse at his actions.

“I am not in a gaming mood!” Kit yelled. “Tell me where she is!”

The Grand Duke did not crane his neck to address the prince. His eyes only turned to him and he looked far more sinister in this position than when he had been upright.

“You have the Princess Chelina to marry. Are you willing to defy your father’s wishes, all for your misguided notion that she is in love with you?” He chuckled darkly. “You are foolish, Kit. Of course, any young woman will fall for you. You’re the prince. It is your title she wants, not you.”

Kit drew back in derision for his words. The Grand Duke only spoke of falsehoods and yet, he spoke with assurance that the prince momentarily believed his lies to be true.

You never cared that you were a princess. You hurt when the news of your divorce broke. You returned his kisses when he kissed you. You understood his aches and pains and your very presence took all of those away because you loved him. You loved him.

The prince stood to his full height, sneering at the man, and nodded at the guards. “Sit him up.”

Once the Grand Duke was upright, Kit turned to the man again. He gave a sarcastic smile of his own, at the nobleman’s words that intended to hurt him but it only made him pity the man.

“Of course. Of course, it must be my title, much like it was yours when you took a maid to be your lover.” Kit said. “It is no question she is merely using you to gain a higher status in the household. She holds no love for you and because of that, she will have no qualms in telling us of all the sins you have committed.”

The Grand Duke’s mouth remained shut. His eyes only grew more and more crazed as the hours went by. Kit inflicted whatever torture he could think of, hoping with each one that it would force a confession from the man. The noble held strong, keeping your location a secret. It went on for a while, with Kit unrelenting in his tortures and the Grand Duke not giving any indication of your whereabouts.

“Do you want to know why I did it?” The Grand Duke asked after hours of water torture and strikes to his person. It did not seem to bother him that his pristine white shirt was now tinged pink with water and his blood.

“Why I killed your mother?” He asked it so casually that it renewed the anger in the prince.

Kit’s body grew colder at the mention of his mother. He did not like it when the subject was broached, most especially by the man responsible for her demise.

“You told me it was for the riches.” Kit spat as he glared at the man.

Despite the swelling that nearly closed the man’s left eye, there was a diabolical gleam in them, one that told Kit he enjoyed the game they were to play. “Most of it was because of that, of course. Am I to just kill her because I liked to? Yes, but I much rather I get something from it.”

The prince fisted his hand, drawing it back to charge and punch him. This time, the nobleman took the hit to the jaw. The man’s face had been battered enough, to the point where Kit’s fist ached for having caused it. He would not show it because he could not afford to show weakness to the man whose answer holds your salvation.

“You see, I do not like it when women have more power compared to me.” The crazed gleam returned in his eye. “They are feeble-minded creatures, so easily swayed with simple gifts and ideas. Whoever thought a kingdom needed a queen was clearly not of sound mind. A king is capable. Man is capable. Women? They are not.”

Kit only watched him. He did not move from where he stood—would not move because if he did, he would easily kill him.

“Your mother was no exception. She was readily persuaded by my gifts. She’s a simpleton, you see. Quite the opposite of what you and the kingdom make her. You think her brilliant but she is not. Simple laws just to please the people. Nothing to advance it to greatness.”

Kit knew the words from the man’s mouth were all lies. He refused to believe to any of them.

“And you have something to offer for the kingdom’s advancement?” he asked instead, humoring the man in hopes of finding his answers.

“I offered my niece.”

“Ah, yes. Another woman for you to control and be rid of as you wish.”

The smile that graced the Grand Duke’s face was patronizing and proud. “Ah! Now you see my point!” he crowed in delight.

Kit glared. “I see your sinister plans. Chelina is not for you to control. So was my mother and as is my wife. They were never yours to do as you like.”

“And yet I still did. Such is the power of men, don’t you think, Your Royal Highness?”

“You forget that the reason you are here is because of Y/N. She pieced together all of what you had done to my mother. It took a woman to defeat you, Grand Duke.”

“And I defeated her. Wherever I had left her, she will not survive. She might even be dead, now as we speak.” He gave Kit a challenging look, smirking as though he enjoyed this game they were playing. “I still win.”

A muscle jumped at Kit’s jaw.

“You will thank me one day, Kit. You do not need that chit whom you fancy yourself in love with.”

The self-satisfied smile remained on the nobleman’s face. Kit wanted nothing more but to wipe it off.

“Were you ever loved, Grand Duke? Is this where the hatred comes from?” The prince asked and watched as the smile fell of his face. “Because, clearly, you have never loved. I do not think your heart has the capacity to hold such emotion.”

“Love,” he spat disdainfully. “Holds us back. It gives us nothing—”

“It gives satisfaction and contentment; two things you will never find if you scorn the very emotion from whence it came.”

“I have no need of it.”

“I am sure you don’t. You’ve displayed contempt for anything akin to that.” He looked directly in the man’s eyes. “Your parents, they favored your sister, did they not? Loved her above all else, above you. This is why you loathe women.”

The Grand Duke’s eyes blazed in anger. Kit picked more at the wound he had just opened.

“So you despise them as a lot because they reminded you of what you did not receive when you were younger—”

“I was the heir but they did not care for me! They wanted my sister for the opportunities she could bring us!” The Grand Duke strained against his bindings. Veins had made themselves apparent on his neck. “From the moment of her birth, she had been coddled and loved! They had given her everything that was supposed to be mine!”

Kit bit back a triumphant smile and regarded the angry man impassively. The noble struggled to break free in his seat, livid at having been caught the cause of his vulnerability. The muscles on the man’s neck jumped as he seethed at the prince.

“Love did not bring them satisfaction and contentment. It made them weak. The moment my sister was of age, they married her off to that pompous Zaragozan prince and used all of my money as her dowry! They left me desolate and poor, all because they loved the weak one.”

“So you chose to not love?”

“I chose to be strong. That blasted emotion will only weigh me down. I had been successful without it because I was not held back by that foolish emotion.”

Kit swore he saw the muscle at the man’s jaw twitch but it did not frighten him. He had the upper hand. The Grand Duke looked at him with all of the disdain and fury in the world.

“I am nothing like you, so desperate to save your loved one from drowning. With the unending storm, you will be too late. You will never save her. Love will not save her. It will only make a fool out of you.”

Kit prepared a rebuttal to his verbal attack but halted when he realized what the man had said. The Grand Duke had not mentioned of you drowning in any of the times Kit had asked for you. He never gave your location nor did he give any clues as to where you were kept. If he said you were to drown… then it could mean you were near bodies of water.

The Grand Duke seemed to have noticed his mistake and kept his mouth shut. He said nothing further, only looked at the prince with as much contempt and anger he could muster.

“Why would she drown?” Kit asked as he neared him once more.

The noble did not speak.

Kit fisted the front of the man’s shirt dress. His anger and desperation provided him with enough strength to hoist the man up, chair and all.

"Tell me where she is!" he demanded. “I had played long enough with you, Grand Duke. You are to answer my questions if you want to survive.”

He only looked at the young royal, unblinking.

“Where did you leave Y/N?”

Silence.

“You will not be given food until you tell me where my wife is!”

“Then I would much rather starve.”

Kit dropped the man unceremoniously and turned to the Captain.

“Return him to his cell. Do not feed him. Do not give him any water. Make him suffer until he confesses where she is.” He commanded. “Get your best men to search at any bodies of water. Tell them not to return to the palace without my wife.”

“What will you do, Your Royal Highness?” Thibault asked after he had commanded his men to do as the prince ordered.

“I will look for her myself.”

The rains were relentless. It had not stopped since and you worried for the rising waters. You had not attempted to climb out of the hole again, what with your broken ankle having swollen twice its size. You could only scream out but your voice had gone raspy at the effort. The hope of being found was slowly waning every passing second.

Your will to survive was strong but your body grew weak. You had developed a fever from being submerged in water and also of the numerous broken bones and bruises you had procured upon the Grand Duke’s attempts of your disposal. A rest would have renewed your strength but in your current situation, the best you could do was recline against the jagged wall. The sharp stones did not faze you anymore. They had become your companion and only source of proof that you were still alive and awaiting rescue… if they ever knew you were gone.

You could not tell if a day or two had passed. There was only constant darkness. Your eyes had grown accustomed to it and you feared you were on your way to permanent blindness after having not seen the sun or light for so long. But despite that, when you close your eyes, vivid color and memories abound.

You saw the palace, the king having tea in the gardens and the prince training with the Captain of the Guards. You saw the jolly Duke of Granville, proclaiming sonnets with his usual flair. The Princess of Zaragoza was in the town square, perusing the gemstones of the kingdom. Your father, sailing the high seas. Your mother, smiling at you through the mirror and singing as she combed your hair…

You were sure the vision of your mother was a hallucination. You had been but a child when she had passed. It was impossible to have a memory of her with this older version of you, smiling encouragingly, lovingly. But you clung to that hallucination, to the song that had brought you comfort when you were young.

The water poured, urging you to rise to your feet. You kept your back to the wall, hands feeling the stones. Your ankle protested at the sudden added weight and you hummed to yourself to distract yourself from the pain. Your eyes burned at the discomfort but you were unsure if tears had fallen because there was only constant rainfall in your small hole.

If the rains did not stop, it would fill the space with enough water to drown you. Your dress weighed you down, your feet were useless with the injury, and even if you could try and swim, it would be futile if the hole was not filled to the brim.

Another thunder cracked the sky. You shut your eyes and started singing weakly with your mother the lullaby you knew that would calm you. You allowed yourself to be enveloped by the hallucination, of your mother’s comforting strokes against your hair as she lulled you to rest.

“Lavender’s blue, dilly, dilly. Lavender’s green. If you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you…”

Kit shared the revelation to his father, to Chelina, and to his cousin. His father had seen what an unstoppable force he had become in his pursuit of you and allowed him to join the search, provided that his cousin come with him. Kit protested, told them that his cousin had helped him with the errand of gathering information the day before but the king would not hear of it. Despite Kit’s many protestations and insistences, Louis became the last member of the small search party he headed.

They journey east, to the largest lake of the kingdom that ran adjacent to his mother’s mountains. The storm remained strong in that part of the kingdom and it already posed a danger to them as they rode towards it. To be in the middle of it, however, was a challenge in and of itself.

Kit ordered the guards to tie themselves to the tree once they start their search in the waters. The currents had become too strong for them to dive deep. The tree would serve as an anchor for them to not be carried away.

“As much as I want to find her,” Louis said as he neared his cousin. “I only wish she is not here. Even the best swimmers could not survive such strong waves and currents.”

Kit could not help but agree with his cousin. He knew how much you had loved travelling by boat but the fickle nature of that lake was nothing compared to the serene waters of the seas. Even if he was desperate to find you, he would not have wanted to be presented your corpse for trying to brave such conditions of the lake.

He watched as Louis tied the rope around his waist and to the tree to join the search underwater. Kit did the same, tying himself to the roots of the tree and swam as far as he could with his length of rope. He fought against the current, diving deep and groping whatever he could that resembled you. Every attempt proved ineffective and Kit rose from the waters, much more frustrated than when he had started.

One by one the guards went up from their search, each looking at the prince apologetically at coming up empty-handed. Kit only thanked them for their efforts and commanded them to search for you in another part of the lake.

He knew his cousin had started to worry when he emerged from searching the last quarter of the lake without you. They had reached its depths, finding unusual creatures and resources but nothing of you. Kit supposed he should have been thankful for not finding you at the bottom of one of the deepest lakes of the kingdom but he also hoped that he would have seen something at all that would tell of your presence in the body of water.

Still, he refused to stop in the search.

But he had not one idea how to continue.

Before them, the mountains loomed. Its peaks were nearly invisible in the clouds of the storm. They were the mountains his mother was gifted upon her marriage, the very ones the Grand Duke coveted and killed for. Whenever he rode past them, he often remembered how proud his mother had been at the discovery of the gemstones and how she longed to use them for the betterment of the kingdom’s economy. Now, they only served as a reminder that she had been stolen from them because of the greed of one foreign adviser.

Come to the mountains, a gentle, female voice called to him. Come and you shall find what you seek.

Kit felt the pull of the mountains. He knew there was nothing there; the miners did not work in such dire conditions. It sat abandoned during the summer months during its intense heat and raging storms. He did not know why it called to him but he knew he had to go there and see for himself why.

He donned his still wet shirt, accepting the coldness that clung on his back like punishment for having not found you yet, and mounted his horse.

“Where are you going?” Louis asked as he watched the set look on his cousin’s face before doing the same thing.

“The mountains. They—they call to me.” Kit said almost absently, intent on riding towards the mines. He kicked his heels against the horse’s flanks, making it gallop towards the mountains.

“Call to you? You have gone mad!” The duke said as he followed along. “How am I going to explain this to your father!”

The prince rode ahead, rushing through trees and land, much speedier than he had at the start of the search. He knew he would find it empty but the pull was too mighty to ignore. Was it his mother telling him something? It was an absurd notion to even think that his mother was there in the mountains—she had been buried in the Royal Cemetery—but to Kit, it made sense. The mountains were her pride and joy, in addition to him. It must mean something, this pull.

“You do understand that in order to drown, there must be water, cousin.” Louis told him when he had caught up beside him. “A mountain is not a body of water. I think you ought to know the difference of that at this age of yours.”

They reached the miners’ camp, a worn little village that had been abandoned for the season. There were no flicker of lights in any of the thatched houses nor movement inside; no sign of activity at all. But there was something there, Kit was sure. There was something that urged him to come and investigate.

Despite not wanting to stop in the search, Kit took the silence of the place as a respite form all the turmoil in and out of him. He may not be alone but, before the mighty mountains of his kingdom, he was at peace.

“We should leave, Kit. Continue on with our search. We are wasting daylight by ambling here,” his cousin said beside him.

He kept ignoring the duke and went his way around the village. Kit stopped behind the village, at the start of the quarry at the base of the mountain. His mother had advocated for the safety of the miners, ensuring that there be a barricade to the entrance of the shaft lest someone accidentally tread and fall through. That entrance had been permanently closed now, having no more stones or precious metals to be mined.

“I am feeling a sense of dread about the place, Kit,” Louis said as he stepped closer to the prince. “When you said it called to you, I was hoping it had been a figurative sense.”

“I heard a voice—”

“A voice? Have you hit your head on the lakebed?”

“It was loud and clear.”

Louis whirled around, at the emptiness of the village, and gestured to it with a flourish of his hands. “Well, it is clearly empty. We won’t find her here. There is no body of water where she can possibly drown in.”

“Just—” Kit sighed in frustration. “It called to me, cousin. It must mean something.”

Whatever—or whoever—it was that called him, it wanted him there for a reason.

He neared the entrance and looked beyond it, to the abandoned carts and tools. His cousin as right, there was nothing there of importance, but to see the mines strengthened his resolve once more. Kit would do whatever it was in his power to see through his mother’s plans. He would put emphasis on the mountains during his regency and he would implement your idea for the betterment of the kingdom. But he had to find you because he refused to be king if you were not his queen.

Kit stayed quiet, feeling the serenity the mountains brought. Despite the raging storm, the absence of the angry waves proved to be the cure to the uproar in him. He still could not think clearly but to see the progress of his mother’s project renewed his determination.

There is nothing here but only a brief respite, he thought to himself. He wanted to stay long, to bask in the peace of it but he knew he must return to his search for you.

He moved to follow his cousin back to the lake when he heard a different voice sing, albeit faint.

Lavender’s blue, dilly, dilly. Lavender’s green.

If you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you.

The lullaby flitted across the mountains, echoing, haunting, even in its hushed tones. His mother’s spirit was alive in these mountains, haunting him but in the best ways possible. Kit remained quiet as he listened to the phantom song that resonated around him.

Let the lambs play, dilly, dilly. Let the lambs play.

You shall be safe, dilly, dilly. Safe from harm’s way.

“I think I believe you now, cousin.” Louis said as he pressed himself beside Kit.

“What?” the prince frowned.

“Do you not hear it? The voice? It’s singing a lullaby.” The duke told his cousin, eyes surveying the empty mining village for where the voice originated.

“You hear it?” Kit asked. He thought it was his mother’s spirit, singing to comfort him, but if Louis could hear it… Then it meant the voice was real.

“Of course, I hear it. I can’t find where it’s from and I do not think I would want to know.”

Kit craned his neck, listening intently for the voice. It was difficult to perceive with the howling of the strong winds but the melancholy, hopeful tone made him want to find it. He stalked aimlessly about the place, turning his ear about until he could discern the voice properly.

“Kit, I do not think it wise—”

“Someone is here, cousin.”

“Aren’t the mines abandoned during the monsoons? How could someone be here when the entire village has left for the season?” He kept close to his cousin, eyes nervously darting about the place, fearing he might see something he did not wish to see. “And if you do see someone, I beg you do not ask me to look unless what you see is corporeal.”

Call up your men, dilly, dilly. Set them to work.

Some to the plough, dilly, dilly. Some to the fork.

The voice sounded stronger towards the end of the village and Kit headed towards it. He considered his cousin’s words, at the possibility of the voice being nothing but an illusion but it was too real—too human, even—to be anything but. It had to be a person, that and nothing more.

The voice seemed to emanate from the well that was situated on the farthest end of the village. A flat piece of wood covered the top but it had enough space for the voice to echo from the inside. As he was about to near it, Louis grabbed at his arm tightly, halting him in his steps.

“What if it were a dangerous animal?” Louis asked his cousin. His words may say differently but his eyes implored him that they leave the place.

Kit looked at his cousin and patted his shoulder. He had to investigate, even if it meant he would do it alone. “If you do not wish to see it, then you may leave. I will remain here.”

“Unwise thing to say and do, cousin. You know I cannot back down from any adventure.” The duke said before he squared his shoulders in an attempt to look big, so at odds with the tremble in his voice. “Let us only hope it will it jump away at the sight of us.”

Some to make hay, dilly, dilly. Some to reap corn.

While you and I, dilly, dilly, keep ourselves warm.

It sounded from inside of the well, louder this time but still weak. Kit and Louis took to one end of the wood plank and shoved it aside.

“Lavender’s blue, dilly, dilly. Lavender’s green. If you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you.” You sang as you watched your reflection on the mirror in your home’s foyer.

Your mother had halted singing and had vanished. You frowned as you whirled around, in search of her. She had been beside you just as you were looking at your reflection. She had dressed you in a pink gown that was once hers and had fawned over you for growing up to look like her. She had even shed a tear at the sight of you, never thinking she would live to see the day to see you become a lady like herself.

“Mother?” you called out. “Mother, where are you?”

“Y/N, my love,” your mother called from above you.

You turned to her, smiling as she stood atop the spiral stairs, dangling the long ribbon down at you.

“Oh, Mother. I thought you had gone,” you told her.

“Tie this ribbon around your waist,” she said with a soft smile. “And whatever you do, do not let go.”

You were confused with her choice of words but heeded her orders nonetheless. You took the piece of ribbon and tied it around your waist, securing it with a knot you had learned from the sailors in one of your many travels.

You felt yourself being pulled upwards and the sudden action made you start and jerk around in your bindings.

“Try not to move around so much, my love.” Your mother said. “Remain calm. Keep singing to me.”

Hands tight on the thin strip of ribbon, you clenched your eyes shut and resumed the lullaby you had been singing with your mother.

“Roses are red, dilly, dilly. Violets are blue.” You sang shakily as you were being hauled up. Your eyes remained closed, afraid that if you open them, you would see how far you had been pulled up from the ground.

“Because you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you.” You heard your mother sing with you.

You took a while to follow through her song, absorbed on keeping your breath and the galloping beats of your heart even.

“Let the birds sing, dilly, dilly. And the lambs play.”

“Very good, my love.” You heard the smile on your mother’s voice. “We are so near.”

Near what, you did not know but you trusted your mother.

“Look at me,” she urged but you declined her request. “You can open your eyes, Y/N. Look at me. I will not put you in harm’s way.”

You slowly opened your eyes, expecting to see the green color of your mother’s eyes but instead, you saw blue. The bluest of all blues you had ever seen.

Lines of laughter crinkled around the eyes you swore were familiar to you. Your own eyes smiled along at the sight of it.

“Sing with me?” the voice asked. It was not your mother’s anymore but it comforted you all the same.

Your lips curved upward, your first genuine smile in what you felt was a long time.

And in one voice, you both sang.

“We shall be safe, dilly, dilly. Out of harm’s way.”

The relief Kit felt was immense and immediate. It felt like water dousing the fire within him, of a warm bowl of soup after the coldness of the winter. It was like a part of him that had been missing had finally been returned to him.

And it had.

Yours was the mysterious voice that sang from the well but you were not the one that called him. Whoever—or whatever—it was, Kit thanked it profusely. If it weren’t for the voice that begged of him to seek the mountains, he would not have thought to visit it. He then wouldn’t have been able to find and rescue you.

He believed he only arrived at the most crucial of times because when you had been rescued from the abandoned well, you were feverish and delirious, badly bruised and your broken ankle had swollen nearly twice its size. You had shivered the moment you emerged from the well and Kit knew he had to take you to the physician immediately so that you would receive the best care.

“How is she?” Kit asked once the physician exited your chambers.

He had left you to the care of the Royal physician and his assistants and had remained outside of your room, unable to watch how they set your grotesque foot back to how it was before. He could not take it seeing you in this great a pain and having no power to take it away. You had suffered enough. Kit wanted to take all of it for himself so you may rest.

“She is asleep, Your Royal Highness,” the man told him. “I have bound her foot in a splint. She would be unable to leave her chambers until it is set properly.”

“And her fever?”

“There is only so much I can do with her fever,” he said. “Let us hope it breaks in the following days. If tonight, however, it has cooled, then she will be safe.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Kit asked, near desperate. “Anything at all I can get her so she may be comfortable?"

The physician shook his head. “There is nothing more we can do. It is all up to her. You must rest, Your Royal Highness. You must keep your health.”

He could only nod his head. He entered your chambers, careful and quiet when he passed through the door. You laid on your bed, dwarfed by the number of pillows they had placed around you. Your ankle had been wrapped in cloth and held still by the splint the physician had mentioned. You were at peace now, asleep, color now on your skin, looking far healthier than when he had first rescued you.

Abigail wrung the water from the cloth and laid it on your forehead.

“How is her fever?” Kit asked as he neared you.

Your maid stood in attention, bowing at the sight of the prince before looking forlornly at your resting figure. “She is still warm to the touch, Your Royal Highness. The physician told me to keep changing the cloth if it has become warm.”

Kit nodded inattentively, eyes and thoughts only towards your slumbering form. He wanted to near you, wanted to hold your hand in his and assure you—and himself—that you were home and safe and no harm will come to you. But instead, he remained where he was, immovable because he did not want to disturb your peace.

He thanked Abigail and left your room without another word.

“Cousin? Is she—?” Louis asked as he passed the prince in the hallway.

“She is fine. Asleep. She is resting.” Kit told him.

“And are you well?” he inquired, peering at the tired look on his cousin’s face.

“I am well,” Kit assured him albeit wearily.

Louis embraced his cousin in relief. “She is found, Kit. There is nothing to worry about anymore.”

Kit returned the gesture, wrapping his arms tight around his cousin. “Thank you,” the prince said, voice choked with emotions that he had been supressing the past days. “Thank you for helping me find her, cousin.”

The next few days proved to be challenging for the prince. Your fever had not broken in the first two nights since you had arrived. Kit had asked of the physician to remain in the palace for longer, afraid to be helpless if the doctor were out of reach and you needed his aid. The Magistrate had commenced the trial for the Grand Duke and had employed for him a lawyer in accordance with the laws of the land. Although the man’s guilt was obvious, the Magistrate found it fair to give him a just trial and be given the opportunity to defend himself from his glaringly evident sins. It frustrated Kit but he followed through with the wishes.

The Prince of Prussia arrived three days after you had been found. Whilst the foreign royal had no information of the duplicity the Grand Duke had done, he had not been surprised at the events.

They convened in the State Hall, with Kit presiding over the gathering. The king joined the meeting as well, albeit only to hear of what his son and the Prussian prince had to say of the Grand Duke.

“Am Großherzog war immer etwas Verwerfliches, aber wir haben nie herausgefunden, was es war.” Prince Frederick told Kit. “Ich schäme mich, dass Ihrem Königreich ein solcher Vorfall passiert ist, und das alles wegen eines Adligen, der aus meinem Königreich kam.” (There was always something reprehensible about the Grand Duke, but we never found out what it was. I am ashamed that such an incident happened to your kingdom, and all because of a nobleman who came from my kingdom.)

Kit only looked at the prince with a watchful eye. While he did not expect the Prussian royal to keep watch all of his nobility, he still should have prevented the man’s departure from his kingdom. There was also the matter of his being one of your admirers, a fact Kit had not forgotten since that fateful night of his mother’s death anniversary ball. He had inquired of you and your health upon his arrival. He was polite and apologetic but it still did not dissuade Kit’s iciness towards the other royal.

If the Prussian royal misinterpreted Kit’s contempt for anything but, he did not show it.

“Dann werden Sie sicherlich nichts gegen die Strafen haben, die unsere Gesetze gegen einen Ihrer Bürger verhängen werden?” Kit asked of him. (Then surely you will not object to the penalties that our laws will inflict on one of your citizens?)

“Nein.” (No.)

Kit turned to his father and saw his nod in agreement.

“Obwohl,” Prince Frederick started and Kit turned his attention back to the Prussian. “Mein einziger Einwand ist die Vollstreckung des Urteils. Wäre es nicht humaner, ihn zu köpfen, als ihn aufzuhängen?” (Although, my only objection lies on the execution of the sentence. Would it not be more humane to behead him than to hang him?)

A regal brow raised on Kit’s face before it turned into a frown. Humane? A nobleman from his country had poisoned the queen and had thrown the princess in a well and yet the prince cried for humanity in his execution? It was absurd!

Kit squared his shoulders and speared the prince a glance that told the people in the Hall that his words will not hear any arguments.

“Du sprichst von Menschlichkeit und doch hat dein Edelmann nicht daran gedacht. Meine Mutter ist wegen ihm gestorben. Meine Frau litt tagelang am tiefen Brunnen, wo er sie zum Sterben zurückließ. Ihn aufzuhängen ist Gnade im Vergleich zu der Strafe, die ich ihm auferlegen will.” Kit told him in a quiet, cold tone that thundered against the walls. (You speak of humanity and yet your nobleman has not thought of it. My mother died because of him. My wife suffered for days in the deep well where he left her to die. Hanging him is mercy compared to the punishment I intend to inflict on him.)

Prince Frederick did not challenge his words and offered another apology at him. “Vergib mir. Ich habe nur gefragt, weil es nicht die preußische Art ist. In unserem Reich—” (Forgive me. I only asked because it is not the Prussian way. In our kingdom—)

“Er hat sich in meinem Königreich geirrt und soll entsprechend bestraft werden.” He told him icily. “Ich habe Sie nicht nach Ihrer Meinung gefragt, Ihre Königliche Hoheit." (He has erred in my kingdom and shall be punished accordingly. I did not ask for your opinion, Your Royal Highness.)

The Prussian Prince bowed as he ceded Kit’s words. “Ich muss mich noch einmal für den Schmerz entschuldigen, den er Ihnen, Ihrer Familie und dem Königreich zugefügt hat.” (I must apologize once again for the pain he has caused you, your family, and the kingdom.)

Kit nodded briskly.

“Und Sie müssen mir meine Unwissenheit über Ihre Ehe verzeihen. Ich hoffe meine Verwirrung ist entschuldigt. Ich dachte, du wärst mit Prinzessin Chelina von Saragossa verlobt?” Prince Frederick watched him cautiously, unsure how to continue without offending the other prince. (And you must forgive my ignorance of your marriage. I hope my confusion is excused. I thought you were engaged to Princess Chelina of Zaragoza?)

Kit looked around the Hall, to the guards that stood waiting for their orders, and he waved his hand to dismiss them. Prince Frederick did the same with his. When all were left were Kit, his father, Prince Frederick, and Louis, Kit answered Frederick’s inquiry.

“Meine Verlobung mit Prinzessin Chelina wurde vom Großherzog in der Hoffnung entworfen, mehr Kontrolle zu haben. Mein Vater und ich waren uns seiner Absichten nicht bewusst, als ich der Gewerkschaft zum ersten Mal zustimmte. Wir hielten es für klug, dass ich seine Nichte heirate, wegen der Dienste, die er meinem Vater erwiesen hatte. Während der Hochzeitsvorbereitungen fand die Sekretärin meines Vaters einen Ehevertrag zwischen mir und meiner Frau.” Kit said. (My engagement to Princess Chelina was designed by the Grand Duke in hopes of having more control. My father and I were unaware of his intentions when I first agreed to the union. We thought it wise for me to marry his niece because of the service he had rendered my father. During the preparations for the wedding, my father’s secretary found a marriage contract between me and my wife.)

The Prince of Prussia looked at him confusedly. “Sie wussten nicht, dass es einen solchen Vertrag gibt?” (You did not know that such contract existed?)

Kit shook his head. “Nein. Das war ein Vertrag, den ich als Junge unterschrieben habe.” (No. That was a contract I signed as a boy.)

Kit then explained carefully to his guest all that had transpired, from the signing of the contract to the days that led up to the discovery of the truth of his mother’s death. The prince listened intently to the tale, asking questions when Kit allowed them, and when it was over, he could only watch the royal family in awe and confusion.

“Verzeihen Sie, dass ich frage, aber warum bezeichnen Sie sie als Ihre Frau, wenn der Magistrat Ihre Scheidung bewilligt hat?” Prince Frederick asked him. (Forgive me for asking, but why do you call her your wife when the magistrate has approved your divorce?)

Kit looked at him directly, eyes passionate and sure. “Weil sie meine Frau in jeder wichtigen Hinsicht ist.” (Because she is my wife in every way that matters.)

That seemed to have quelled the Prussian royal’s curiosity, who only nodded in understanding.

“Ich muss Ihnen sagen, dass ich Sie dafür beneide, solch einen Edelstein zu beschaffen. Ich hätte meine Klage angeboten, wenn nur die Gesetze meines Königreichs so mild wären wie deine.” He told Kit. (I must tell you that I envy you for procuring such a gem. I would have offered my suit if only the laws of my kingdom were as lenient as yours.)

Kit said nothing to that.

Prince Frederick rose from his seat. “Ich werde in Ihrem Königreich bleiben, bis der Prozess gegen den Großherzog abgeschlossen ist. Ich werde dafür sorgen, dass er für seine Sünden bestraft wird. Darf ich in der Zwischenzeit meine liebste Freundin besuchen und sehen, wie es ihr geht?” (I will remain in your kingdom until the Grand Duke’s trial is complete. I will make sure he is punished for his sins. In the meantime, may I visit my dearest friend and see how she is doing?)

Kit stood as well, nodding once to his father and to his cousin. He led the prince to your chambers, entering once he and the Prussian prince were announced.

Chelina, who sat on one of the plush seats by the window, stood and bowed before the two princes. She had taken it upon herself to keep watch of you—her self-imposed penance for her uncle’s sins despite her being his victim as well.

“Your Royal Highness,” she addressed Prince Frederick.

“Princess, Prince Frederick wishes to see how Y/N is.” Kit told her

“She remains the same, still asleep but her fever has cooled.” Chelina replied as she cast a glance at your direction.

Prince Frederick turned to Kit as if to ask for permission. When it was given, he sat at the vacant seat beside your bed and began talking to you as though you were awake. Kit kept a watchful eye on Frederick, making sure he kept the appropriate distance from you.

“The physician is hopeful that she will be well, Kit.” Chelina told him as she passed him a cup of tea. “He thinks she will wake soon.”

Kit took the offered cup. “Thank you for watching her, Chelina.”

She smiled softly at his direction. “It is in service of a friend.”

“You were a victim as well. You must not claim his sins as yours.”

Her smile turned wistful and she turned away. “I am his sister’s daughter. Let me be ashamed for what my kin has done.”

“It is he who must repent.” Kit took a sip of the tea. “Not you. You are blameless.”

She gave him another of her grateful smiles. Kit left the Prussian Prince under the watchful eye of the princess and went about his remaining business for the day. Louis had appointed himself as his adviser for the time being while Kit took over his father’s business. They pored over countless laws and paperwork, signing and granting help to the people who needed them. Kit took to reviewing the proposals the Grand Duke had left and found that most of the funds that were to be delegated to the construction of a new village were instead being siphoned to his personal accounts. More and more of the nobleman’s deceit were being uncovered after every new proposal Kit worked on.

Come evening, he was exhausted. His princely education had not warned him that businesses went on for more than a day, that even after finishing one decree, there were three more waiting to be reviewed and signed by him. He did not complain, only finished another task before starting another. When his father had seen his diligence, he had praised him but had also told him that his health was much more important than matters of the state.

Kit walked to your chambers, finding the physician changing the dressing that had been draped on your foot. Your ankle did not look as grotesque as when he had first seen it and the swelling had gone down to what the physician deemed as “manageable.” Kit did not know what it meant but the way the physician said it assured him that you were in no more danger. He did not give any new prognosis, other than that you were bound to wake soon. The prince thanked the doctor before sitting on the seat beside your bed.

“Forgive me for being away for the day, my love. I had taken over Father’s work and his office. The kingdom is in disarray after the storm ravaged the crops and the villages. I’ve employed my mother’s plans for management in times of crises. I think you would have offered me the same advice if I had asked you.”

He smiled to himself when he took your hand in his. Yours was small in his and did not pull away when he squeezed it.

“Wake up soon, my love. I want nothing more than to see your beautiful eyes.” Kit pleaded as he placed a light kiss on the top of your hand.

He spent the rest of the night beside you, telling you of what had transpired throughout the day. He watched for every small movement, anything at all that would have told him you were to wake but you did not move. You only stayed as you were, asleep, having no idea of the fear that started to blossom in him with every moment you spent unconscious.

You did not wake that night.

The next morning, as Kit got up from spending the night in your chambers by your side, Chelina entered, holding in her hands a missive. It had been sent ahead of her parents’ arrival to tell her that the storm had delayed them and had been received by a nearby estate, only to stay there until the storm has passed.

"We must address one more concern, Kit,” Chelina said as she stood before him. “I have talked to your father about it and it is imperative that I have it with you as well.”

Kit merely raised a brow. He did not know what else there was that should concern the Zaragozan princess.

“I believe we will not marry each other.” She looked expectantly at the prince. “Our engagement was a ploy by my uncle and now that we have uncovered it, I believe there is no need to continue with it. My ideas and plans do not align with yours and we are both too stubborn to submit to one another. I do not think it a good start to any marriage.”

Her reasons were sound, if not a little illogical for people in their stature. He only shook his head. “No, I do not think it too.”

She smiled. “Finally. One thing we agree upon.”

He smiled tiredly.

“You would be free to marry whomever you wish,” she said as she cast a glance at you. “Follow your heart’s desires.”

He would need to speak with his father of that.

“They will not be happy with the broken engagement.” She said with a sigh as she turned to look at him. “After all, it was what they have travelled here for.”

“I shall talk to them. You should not shoulder all the burden your uncle has placed on us.”

Her smile was grateful. “I thank you, Kit.”

“What of you, then?” he asked.

“What of me?”

“You gave me leave to follow my heart. Would you not do the same with yours?”

Her silence—or reluctance to reply to his question—was answer enough for Kit.

“I thought you and my cousin love each other?” he asked.

She nodded forlornly and smiled sadly. “He is not a prince. My parents will only have me marry a royal.”

“He is my cousin. If I refuse to be king, he is next in line for the throne.” Kit reasoned. Louis was as good as a prince. His title may not be one but as his cousin, he had a claim to the throne.

“That will not be enough for them. And do not worry yourself on my account. I do not worry for it.” She waved a hand dismissively although the emotion on her face was far from it.

He would not want that for his friend.

“Chelina—”

“It is the consequence of our title, Kit. I am a princess. I am not given the choice to follow my own heart. It has been the same practice, done by my mother and my mother’s mother. Who am I to defy that?”

“Even if it means your happiness?” He frowned. Surely, after all the events, her parents would give her leave to do as she pleased.

“I am not allowed happiness. What I am allowed is to follow my parents’ wishes.” She sighed and took her hands in his, squeezing them. “I am thankful for your concern, Kit, truly I am, but I have resigned myself to this fate. There is nothing for me to do.”

However Kit wanted to argue, he knew the princess would not allow it. Instead, he only nodded.

“I wish you well, then, Your Royal Highness.” Kit told her sincerely.

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