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zaldritzosrose · 14 days

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Lessons In Pleasure (Aegon x Reader x Harwin)

Summary: Your marriage to Aegon was as good as expected, but you wanted a little more...passion. Rhaenyra, ever the dutiful sister knew just who to send to give your husband a few lessons in pleasing a woman.

TW: Minors DNI, She/Her pronouns, afab reader, Harwin Strong and his horse cock, Rhaenyra being the best sister, Aegon (kinda) getting cucked and liking it, fingering, oral (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, praise kink, p in v sex, Harwin showing Aegon how to fuck, canon-typical incest, twin/targcest, they are happy families in this, use of High Valyrian.

Reader has more Hightower coded features but isn't explicitly described.

Words: 5088 (yes...I know)

THANK YOU to @legitalicat for not only trusting me with this idea but betaing for me too! You're an angel!

Hāedar = little sister

Valonquar = little brother

Ābrazȳrys = wife

Valzȳrys = husband

Rhaenyra was grateful to have been given the chance to decide on her own husband. When originally presented to her, she was disgusted by the idea of marriage all together. But when Harwin Strong made his affections for her clear, she knew that was the man she would marry.

After almost two decades of marriage and having three boys together, Rhaenyra could safely say she had chosen well. Not only was Harwin an amazing man and wonderful father to their boys, but he kept her well satisfied. The man was nearly solid muscle and hung like a horse. In their times alone, it was not unusual for his head to be placed between her thighs or for him to him to rut into her like she was a bitch in heat.

Harwin was nothing if not devoted to his wife. He would give her the world if she asked. He stood at her side, the ever-looming presence that reminded those around them Rhaenyra was not to be toyed with. He knew she was capable of protecting herself, of course, but he could not allow himself to leave his wife to her own protection.

Their devotion and love to each other, however, was in complete contrast to the marriages between Rhaenyra’s siblings. Well, one of them. The marriage of Helaena to Cregan Stark had been unexpected, yes, but having met the man at a tourney, he was all her sweet sister desired. Nobody would deny Helaena. Aemond and Daeron were too involved in their studies to give much mind to marriage. Their time would come, of course, but for now they could do as they pleased. The problem marriage was yours.

When Alicent had given birth to you first, Viserys was disappointed once more. What is a king without a son? But within the hour, your twin finally made his presence known. The King finally had a son. Aegon Targaryen, second of his name, had accomplished more just with his birth than anyone would hope from you.

As you grew into people, you and your twin were far different. You were far different from any of your siblings. You had fewer Valyrian features if any at all. But there was a fire inside you that left little room for doubt of your heritage, complete with a dragon you claimed not long after the time Aegon claimed Sunfyre.

The fire in you was different too. Most of your family were hot headed, quick to anger and rash in action. You wouldn’t say you were smarter, but it was like you controlled your fire instead of the other way around. You could remain calm. Your logic could outweigh your desires time and time again.

Until it came to your twin. For better or worse, he was half of you. You were devoted to him as much as Rhaenyra was devoted to Harwin, or your Uncle Daemon to his wife Laena. Every moment he needed defending, it was you who did so. If he needed soothing, he would find you. As you grew and matured, he loved you as you loved him.

The problem came with his drinking. He was nearly always drunk by the time you both were fourteen. He functioned well throughout the day even if he was drunk. But once the sun gave way to the stars, he got sloppy. Drinking so much he made a mess of himself was how he chose to spend every evening. He would stumble to his bed, stinking of wine.

Luckily, Rhaenyra was a good and comforting presence in your life. Listening to any and all issues you wished to unload on her.

As a child, it would range from not yet having a dragon, which was rectified by the tender age of twelve when you claimed your precious Starfyre. That pale purple dragon, almost iridescent, a contrast to the golden scales of Aegon’s Sunfyre, but somehow complimenting him perfectly. Just as you did with Aegon.

Then as you had aged and began to notice boys, Rhaenyra was the one to talk about romance, courting and all it entailed. Explaining the more, as you would bemoan, embarrassing parts of a relationship but you knew Rhaenyra wanted to look after you. But she did also tell you, that the King would likely choose your husband for you.

And you knew what that meant. You would be given to someone. Someone that, if you were unlucky, you did not know.

But the gods were on your side when your betrothal to Aegon was announced it seemed. Marrying your twin would surely be better than a stranger, you hoped. But Aegon was still a drunk. Unable to refrain from wine no matter the time of day. Not exactly the husband you craved and wished for.

As always, Rhaenyra was there. Comforting you where Aegon could not. It was not that he did not love you. He adored the very bones of you, and he would tell you time and time again.

But he was a mess of a man, by his own admission. Struggling with the weight of being the King’s eldest son and now, your husband. He had never meant to make you feel the way you did, you knew that. Because how could he, if you had never told him what you were feeling.

You had always known Aegon had a voracious appetite, for wine, for pleasure, anything really. Yet, you felt as though he was focused on completing the deed when he bedded you and you could not understand it. You listened, now when Rhaenyra was gushing about Harwin, after you had begged her to. Just to hear how it should be.

“Please, Nyra…” you held her hand tight, the look in your eyes desperate enough to convince the elder princess.

“Do you really wish to know of my bedroom activities, hāedar?” Rhaenyra asked, tugging you to sit on the couch by her fire.

You nodded in earnest.

“There is a reason and I beg you not to tell Aegon.”

Rhaenyra could see you were serious, you never kept secrets from your twin unless you must. She relented then, waiting for your first question.

“I have to know, is it…normal…for the husband to spend so little time on the wife’s pleasure before the act?”

Your voice was so unsure. Not embarrassed to tell your sister, but more embarrassed to voice on the topic at all. Sex was not an easy topic for some, you included. But you knew Rhaenyra was the right person to talk to.

“No, hāedar. Not in my experience. Harwin is quite intent on bringing me pleasure as many times as he can before I even see his cock.” Rhaenyra smirked, both at your reaction to her crass words and at the memory of that morning. When Harwin had delayed his duties just to feast upon, in his words, ‘the most delicious meal a man may have, his wife’s cunt’.

You sighed then and Rhaenyra instantly saw the change in your expression.

“Is something the matter, does our brother not give you the same treatment?”

She was not mocking you, for you could see the genuine concern in Rhaenyra’s expression and hear it in her tone. You only shook your head.

“Not that he does not do anything. He just…it seems like he is not as interested in what comes before as much as he is the sex itself.”

You did not know the word for it. Anything a couple did before sex, but you knew there must be more than having Aegon’s fingers momentarily buried in your cunt before he would rut into to you and chase his own pleasures, before passing out beside you. By Rhaenyra’s expression, you knew you were right.

“Have you told him, told him what you want him to do?” Rhaenyra asked, though she was already formulating a plan.

Again, you shook your head. You knew of Aegon’s past. The way his name was known in every whorehouse in the city, and yet that debauched nature seemed to never reach you. Rhaenyra took your hand, a mischievous in her eyes.

“Leave it to me, hāedar.”

You thought nothing more of your conversation with Rhaenyra as you prepared for your usual dragonflight with Aegon. Something the two of you did weekly.

“Ābrazȳrys,” Aegon smiled, knowing hearing his High Valyrian was a weakness of yours and he was right, a soft blush on your cheeks as he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your neck.

Drunk, but not stumbling. His usual state, functional enough to navigate the day. He squeezed you a little, the way he had hugged you since you were both small. A gesture you were glad he continued.

“Valzȳrys,” you responded, feeling him smile against your skin.

“Shall we?”

“You want me to do what?” Harwin asked, not for the first time. It was like he could not believe the words Rhaenyra spoke.

Aegon followed you to your dragons, his arm loose around your waist as he walked. He was not shy with his public affections, and you could never deny he loved and desired you. But speaking with Rhaenyra had told you something was missing. As you mounted your dragon, all thoughts of that conversation left you the moment Starfyre left the dragonpit and made for the skies, Sunfyre on her tail.

“Teach my brother how to fuck his wife, properly. The poor girl is woefully unsatisfied.” Rhaenyra stated, as if she were talking of the weather or that night’s meal.

Harwin simply stood there, all thought, and reason gone from his mind. His wife wanted him to show her brother how to fuck? The prince who was known in all whorehouses and more for his depravities and salacious appetites? Rhaenyra could not be serious.

“I will not say it again Harwin. My sister deserves a man who knows how to care for her every need.” Rhaenyra smiled, stepping close enough to press her body to Harwin’s, her grin widening when he sighed in defeat.

“Show him, do it yourself first if you must. Hold his cock and put it in the right place if needs be.”

Harwin’s eyes were nearly burst from their sockets. It would not be the first time he had bedded someone at Rhaenyra’s behest. But these were her siblings. The look on her face however, and the love he held for you as a sister, was enough to convince him.

“Fine, you are lucky I love you so…”

Harwin had heard the prince and princess had returned and retired to their chambers. Rhaenyra had near pushed him out the door at the news. It was now or never it seemed, though he had no clue where he would even begin.

He was a few feet from your chambers when he heard the soft moans and the gentle movement of the bed. Harwin took a breath and prepared to close his eyes as he shoved the thankfully unlocked door open.

“Harwin!” you exclaimed, grabbing a nearby sheet, and shielding your naked form.

Aegon was less concerned with his nudity but used his body to shield you a little.

“Is there a reason you have walked into our chambers uninvited, good brother?”

Harwin locked eyes with you, and you knew. Rhaenyra had sent him, because of your conversation.

“Rhaenyra?” Was all you said and Aegon looked entirely confused, his gaze swinging between you and Harwin.

The knight nodded, a silent exchange that told you what you needed to know but not Aegon. Your husband was more than confused and sat back on his haunches to look at you.

“What is going on?” he asked you, but Harwin answered.

“It appears, that your wife is not entirely satisfied with your abilities, good brother.” Harwin spoke firmly but gently as he settled down onto the couch parallel to your bed. His eyes stayed trained, for now, on Aegon.

But Aegon was looking at you.

“Is this true?” He looked hurt, those perpetually sad eyes staring down at you.

You sat up, holding the sheet close to you with one hand while the other nervously toyed with one of your auburn curls, a trait inherited from your mother.

“He is not wrong. I want…more.” You tried to maintain eye contact, and Aegon did not look angry which was good, you supposed.

“More? Like inviting Harwin in, more?” He asked, still not quite grasping the situation.

Harwin could see you floundering, and he spoke up.

“Not quite like that, Aegon. More…to show you what you are failing in.” Harwin did not mean to sound harsh, but it was the essence of it.

You wished for what Rhaenyra had. A man who would worship you from head to toe before fucking you senseless. Something it seemed Aegon was not doing. Aegon opened his mouth to speak but said nothing as Harwin stood up, removing his outer layer and moving towards the bed.

“It seems you are in need of lesson, my prince.” Harwin smiled, watching the blush on your cheeks as he got closer and closer.

You had always found Harwin handsome, telling Rhaenyra how lucky she was to have someone like him so devoted to her. Not that Aegon was not to you. The closer Harwin got, the more Aegon realised just what he meant by ‘lesson’.

Silently, he moved aside, watching as Harwin kneeled at the foot of the bed. He was just above eye level with your body, and you sat up on your elbows. Anticipation had you, the way his deep brown eyes bored into yours had a fire in your blood you had not felt in a little while.

“Now, princess, do you wish me to show your husband how a man worships his wife?” Harwin asked, his voice lower than you had ever heard. A sound that sent a shiver down your spine. You nodded, but that was not enough.

“Words, sweet girl. I need to hear you say it, and I am sure your husband does too?”

You looked at Aegon, who was flitting his eyes between you and where Harwin waited at your feet. He looked torn between being upset and impossibly aroused, based on the faint flush on his skin and the half hard cock between his legs.

“Show us.”

Harwin was gentle, far gentler than he would be with Rhaenyra as he gripped your knees. Tugging you down the bed and pushing the sheet from your body. Now, fully exposed you felt a flush of heat send your skin pink. You could feel his breath on your skin, the roughness of his palms on your thighs as he kneaded the flesh of them.

“Watch carefully, my prince.”

Your breath hitched the moment you felt Harwin’s lips on your inner thigh. Gentle kisses as his large hands pushed your thighs wider. Everything was already so different. Aegon was always gentle, but he was not as tender and slow as Harwin was being.

“You must take your time…savour everything you have before you…” Harwin mumbled to Aegon as he moved higher and higher, the coarse hair of his beard already sending pleasure shooting into your core.

Aegon did as he was bid and watched. Watched as Harwin kissed and nibbled your thighs until his nose brushed the apex, just shy of your cunt. He listened to the soft moans and whimpers that left your lips. Sounds he had heard at times.

But the moan that left you when Harwin finally reached your mound was near sinful, your head shooting up to watch what the knight was doing.

“Oh!” Was all you managed to exclaim the moment Harwin’s tongue took its first taste of you.

Harwin could not lie, you tasted divine. It seemed Targaryen women were each as delicious as the other. He took his time, easing you into it. His tongue taking languid strokes between your folds as his nose pushed against your pearl and his beard scratched your thighs.

The moans you let out were no more than incoherent sounds, your hands already gripping the sheets as Harwin had you hurtling towards your peak. His eyes looked up then, meeting yours for a split second before he took one of your hands and placed it on the back of his head.

“Show me what you want, sweet girl.” He urged, slowing down to force you to take control.

With a whimper and a quick glance to Aegon you gripped Harwin’s hair, which he’d left out of his usual tie. Pulling softly at the strands, you held him against your core and let your body choose what to do. Hips rolling gently as he let his tongue slip back between your folds. Before you knew it, your stomach tightened, and you were whimpering what sounded like Harwin’s name.

Aegon could not tear his eyes away from you now. He had never really paid attention to what you looked like when you came. Flushed skin, your eyes screwed shut as you let out those sweet, soft moans. And he realised he needed to watch you do it again and again. What surprised him now, was that Harwin did not stop.

Your hand loosened on the knight’s hair, but his mouth did not leave you. His hands found your hips and pulled you back to his mouth, listening to the surprised yelp you gave as he began to devour you. There was no other word for it. He was not as gentle as the first time.

Now he was showing what he was capable of.

With grunts and groans of his own, Harwin gave you know reprieve as he fucked his tongue in and out of you, holding you with one large hand as his other moved down to let his fingers join his tongue.

Your eyes rolled the moment he pushed a finger inside. They were thicker than Aegon’s, the rough skin only adding to your pleasure. Curses began to slip from your lips and Aegon could feel his own cock hardening watching you writhe against Harwin’s face. He resisted the temptation to touch himself, to intent on watching you fall apart again.

Harwin pulled away as you peaked, giving you the chance to relax and breathe slowly. And when he looked over at Aegon, the prince could see the faint sheen of your release on the knight’s face and beard.

“Never let her only peak once, the more she comes now, the more sensitive she will be later. And trust me, it is all the better for you.” Harwin rumbled out as he stood.

He shed his own clothing quickly. Finally revealing the sheer length and girth of his own cock. Even Aegon could not help but stare. No wonder Rhaenyra was so well satisfied, he thought.

Even you began to wonder if he expected to be able to fit that inside you, as you assumed that was where this was going. The rest of Harwin was just as impressive. This muscle built his entire body. Just the sight of him a fresh rush of arousal dripping from you.

“Are you ready, princess, we will take our time?” Harwin asked softly, climbing on to the bed next to you, helping you move slightly to accommodate him.

“Yes...” you replied softly, the aftereffects of your two previous orgasms still lingering.

Harwin let his hands trail over your body, as if he was marvelling at just how small you looked beneath them. From your hips and up to your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh gently to gauge your reaction. And when you whimpered softly, he was a little firmer, adding his lips to the mix.

What surprised you, was when he reached out to Aegon. Taking the younger’s hand and placing it on your other breast.

“Copy what I do.”

Aegon watched as Harwin let his hand cup your breast as his thumb began to swipe gently over your nipple, watching the skin pebble and perk as your whimpered out in pleasure. Aegon did his best to replicate the movement, watching and listening as you reacted just the same, back arching to meet his hand.

“My best advice will always be, to listen. If she moans and pulls you close, keep going.”

You were barely listening to what Harwin said, too focused on the different sensations. Where Harwin’s palm was large and rough, Aegon’s was a little smaller and softer. But the touch from both was enough to have you craving more. When Aegon’s hand slowed to watch Harwin, your own gripped it, begging him to keep touching you. And he did, knowing that you were showing him exactly what you wanted from him.

“Good girl.” Harwin cooed and you moaned in response.

“Do you hear that? Our princess likes being told she is a good girl…” Harwin but emphasis on the praise, listening as you groaned softly again.

Aegon did his best to listen to you and Harwin. Putting everything he heard and saw into his memory. He had never considered you would have your own wants and, dare he say, depravities. He had been afraid of treating you too much like his whores of the past. He wanted to make love, not fuck you. But maybe he had been wrong.

Harwin’s lips were latched to your neck and Aegon was quick to copy, following the path Harwin took on your opposite side. And your moans increased the harder they kissed. Aegon even began to take his own initiative when you gave out a whimper at his lips on your pulse. Kissing you harder until you moaned out his name.

“Well done, my prince.”

The knight let his hand move down your stomach, trailing over your hips and down to your cunt, feeling the slick skin and spreading your arousal around to prepare you for the next lesson.

“Time to learn how to properly fuck your wife.” Harwin smiled. He had to admit, he was having a little fun with this. You were just as responsive as Rhaenyra, but with a little more softness and innocence.

Large hands gripped your waist and lifted you gently. Your body was like putty in Harwin’s grip, two orgasms already making feel light. He settled you on his stomach, the rough trail of hair hitting your pearl just right as your got comfortable.

Harwin knew any position would be a lot for you to take him in, he was fully aware of his more than average size. This was about your pleasure, and he did not want to hurt you. He was already rock hard and waiting, but he let you take the lead here.

“Go slowly, princess. I am a lot to take.” The wink he gave you made you giggle, relaxing you a little more.

You moved slightly and Harwin held your waist with one hand while his other wrapped around the base of his cock. You were not sure you were ever going to be quite prepared, but the anticipation was too much. You had only ever laid with Aegon, this would be a change.

Harwin guided you down, listening to your soft whimper at the stretch. He kept up his praise as you took him inch by inch. And he was impressed to see you sink down to his base.

“Well done, sweet girl…” he smiled, stroking his hands up the curve of your hips and back again, letting you adjust to the intrusion.

Aegon watched in near disbelief. Seeing Harwin’s cock disappear between your folds, the sheer stretch of it and the moans you could not hold in. With a little encouragement, you began to move. Rolling your hips slowly and coating Harwin’s cock in your slick. The stretch stung, but not enough to take away the pleasure.

And soon you were rolling your hips in earnest. Your hand on Harwin’s broad chest to steady yourself. You had ridden Aegon a handful of times, usually having too little confidence in your ability to move as you should. Harwin’s hands held you steady, helping you keep your rhythm.

“Let her lead. When she is on top, she is in charge. When you are, you control the rhythm.” Harwin instructed through rough groans. Your movements getting more confident and drawing out his own pleasure.

Aegon let his own hand drift to his cock. He could not resist the throbbing pleasure any longer. You looked so beautiful, and something about seeing you on top of another man had him more aroused than he expected. His hand was tight on his cock, eyes never leaving you as he watched the roll of your hips against Harwin’s body. Adding in your gentle moans and Harwin’s growls and grunts, it had him near coming just from the sight.

“Not so fast, Aegon. I will let you put what I have shown into practice soon enough.” Harwin grunted, his hands now bouncing you up and down on his thick length.

Your moans were louder than Aegon had ever heard. Sounds he had not thought you capable of. But he had been wrong about many things today it seemed.

“Gods…I...I…” You panted as your nails dug into Harwin’s chest.

He had not been wrong, Aegon realised. The two previous peaks had left you sensitive enough to already be so close to a third. Your body was glistening in sweat, skin flushed, and your head thrown back as you panted and moaned your way through your third peak of the night.

“Fuck…” You groaned as Harwin rolled your bodies over and began pounding into you with abandon.

Aegon could feel his own cock throbbing painfully as he watched you moan and writhe under Harwin, the bed hitting the wall with the force of the knight’s thrusts, but you seemed to be enjoying it all the more. Soon enough, Harwin was pulling out of you and coating your stomach with his seed, growling, and grunting as he tugged his cock to release. Your eyes were closed, and you looked well and truly fucked out, your breath coming out in heaving pants as your high subsided.

“That is how a woman should look when she has been well fucked, my prince.” Harwin panted, pushing his hair from his face.

Aegon could do nothing but nod, as Harwin left the bed and retrieved a cloth to clean his seed from your stomach. Your eyes opened and saw only Aegon. And then his still hard cock.

“It is your turn now, is not, valonquar?” You smiled, your hand reaching out for him.

Aegon did not hesitate, pressing his lips to yours like he was a man starved. Forgetting that Harwin remained in the room, his hands settled on your waist as Aegon’s lips took a path down your neck and lower.

“Do not forget, take your time, my prince.” Harwin called, as he dressed.

Aegon only grunted in response. He had never felt quite so desperate for you. Whether it was desire or jealousy he did not know. But he did not care. He wanted to show you he had listened and learned.

His hand kneaded your breast as it had before, while his lips found the unattended one. Harwin had settled himself on the sofa, watching as though to ensure the prince truly had learned a lesson.

Aegon took his time as best he could, listening intently for your moans. Feeling how your body arched to chase his kisses and touches. Your hand in his hair to keep him close to your body. Confident now, in silently asking for what you wanted. And Aegon was quick to oblige, remaining where you held him until you tugged him away.

“Fuck me, please…” You whispered; you had never asked that way. Never asked so directly.

And it sent a shot of pleasure right to Aegon’s cock, earning you a groan in approval.

“Anything for you, my love…” He whispered into your neck as he took his place between your thighs.

His thrusts were slow to start, knowing three orgasms in now had you more sensitive than ever. But he wanted to do this right. He eased into you, before glancing at Harwin for approval he did not realise he needed.

“Hold her thigh at your waist, let her hook her leg round if she needs to.” Harwin instructed, knowing what Aegon needed now.

No one was doubting Aegon’s experience. But a whore was different to a wife, in some respects.

Aegon did as instructed, and the gentle change of angle had your eyes rolling back and Aegon’s name slipping from your lips.

“Praise her, you know she likes it now.” Harwin called again and Aegon leaned down to capture your lips.

He knew well enough what to say.

“My good girl, taking me so well after three peaks…” Aegon groaned into your ear as he sped up, all but pounding into you now, desperate for his own release.

The moans he got in return only spurred him on. You were both wound so tight it would not be long.

“Yes, good girl…” He whispered again, as he gripped your thigh tight and pulled it higher.

Both of you cared only for release now. He could practice Harwin’s teachings another time. Your nails were digging into his skin, and you were urging him on with your heel at his back.

“Please...” You moaned but you knew you needed to be clearer.

“Harder Aegon…”

That was enough for him. He wanted to give you everything you wanted and more. You had never been this vocal with your needs in bed. And he would deny you nothing. His hand moved from your thigh to the headboard as he went as deep as he could, wanting to show you he could do as well as Harwin clearly had.

You were so close to your fourth peak that Aegon could barely thrust into you with the way your walls clenched around him. His own cock throbbed hard within you as he felt his own release pulsing through him.

Neither of you heard Harwin leave, too lost in your own pleasures. But the knight could hear your loud moans and the slam of the bed into the stone wall. A stark contrast to the soft, timid moans he had entered to.

He was a few feet from your rooms when he heard you near scream Aegon’s name, a sound that told him Aegon had learned, and learned well. Harwin could only smirk and mumble to himself as he walked away.

“Well done, my prince.”

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x reader #reader insert #house of the dragon #aegon ii smut #harwin strong x reader #harwin strong smut #aegon targaryen smut #house of the dragon smut

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kckt88 · 2 months

Text

The Lost Dragon XII - Revelations.

Summary:

Rhaenyra summons Aemond to Kings Landing.

*Features an Aemond POV*

Warning(s): Secret Reveal, Language, Anger, Threats to 'Burn down Kings Landing', Breaking Glass/Throwing Things, Prophecy, Vulnerability, Uncle/Niece Incest.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 3786

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9

As they landed within the castle walls, Aemond couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and disbelief wash over him. His eyes were fixed on Vaelys as she gracefully dismounted Vermithor. Aemond stood transfixed, watching her stroke the bronze dragon's scales with a gentle hand, a look of pride on her face.

But alongside that awe, a pang of guilt stabbed at his heart. It was he who had been responsible for the death of Archonei. His control over Vhagar had failed and Vaelys had lost her cradle mate as a result and for a while he thought he hated Vhagar for what she’d done, but in truth it was himself that he hated.

He was responsible, had he not chased Vaelys through the skies then Vhagar wouldn’t have had the opportunity to kill Archonei.

But if Vhagar didn’t kill Archonei, then he wouldn’t have brought Vaelys to Kings Landing and the outcome of the war would be very different.

He wouldn’t have his wife and he certainly wouldn’t have his children.

The two years he spent in exile had allowed his bond with Vhagar to grow stronger, he’d never been across the narrow sea before, and he had to trust that she would keep him safe.

They spent weeks exploring, from flying over the ruins of old Valyria, and the red waste lands near Qarth to the grass lands of the Dothraki sea before finally settling in Volantis.

Of course, the money he’d taken with him didn’t last for the entirety of his stay, and sometimes Vhagar would be too lazy to hunt for herself, so he would have to pay for livestock.

Due to it’s location, Volantis was at risk of raids and Aemond was more than happy to help defend the city in exchange for funds, the Volantene agreed and were more than happy to host a Prince and his dragon-plus it didn’t hurt to mention that he was married to the future Queen of Westeros, of course the Volantene didn’t need to know the whole story surrounding his exile and they certainly didn’t need to know about Aemond’s fears of being set aside by Vaelys upon his return.

His fears of course were unfounded, and his wife was waiting for him on the beach of Dragonstone.

She was so beautiful, her silver hair longer than it been before, tied in a simple braid, the loose whisps fluttering in the sea breeze, her lips curved into a smile and her amethyst eyes shinning with tears, as she gazed upon him.

Never had anyone looked at him like that, like he was the only person in the world.

He spent the night fucking her into the mattress, over and over again. Gods his sexual appetite was ravenous-two years with nothing but his fist, of course many whores had tried their luck with him, but he’d declined every single one of them.

The thought of sticking his cock in a woman that wasn’t his wife made his stomach turn.

Of course, there was one woman, but she was never anything more to him than a friend. At first he had found her interesting, given her area of expertise, and her ability to see things in the flames, but what she had shown him, had terrified him.

As he laid entwined with his wife, he’d told her everything-well almost everything as that would no doubt come later.

As much as he wanted to tell Rhaenyra to stick her summons up her arse, he knew he couldn’t. Out loud anyway.

It was inevitable really, he knew he wouldn’t be able to return and not have her stick her nose in, not even two days and the raven arrived.

Can’t a man spend time with his children and fuck his wife in peace.

Speaking of fucking – his wife had looked truly delicious that morning and just before they were due to fly to Kings Landing, he bent her over the desk in their chambers and stuck his cock in her.

His request to her afterwards had been absolutely depraved.

"Do not clean yourself issa zaldrīzes, I want you to put your small clothes back on so that you feel my seed against you all day-only tonight will I permit you to clean yourself, after I've filled you up again" (My dragon).

But it definitely gave Aemond a twisted sense of satisfaction, that they would be in a meeting with the Queen, and his seed would be inside Vaelys.

Of course, he didn’t miss the look of hurt that flashed across his wife’s face when he asked her drink moontea.

He quickly explained that he wanted to enjoy being home first, being with her and the children, and getting to know Daevyn properly before he puts another babe inside her.

But he did insist that it wouldn’t be long before he desired to see her belly swollen with his seed again.

Fuck, he was getting hard again at the very thought, perhaps if they had time, they could sneak into one of the alcoves or even their old chambers.

But the approaching clatter of armour distracted him and sure enough two guards emerged clad in the red and black of House Targaryen. Their armour gleaming in the light.

"Princess Vaelys, Prince Aemond” one of the guards addressed them respectfully, bowing low before gesturing for them to follow. "The Queen awaits you in the council chambers."

As Vaelys and Aemond entered the council chambers, they were met with some members of the council. Queen Rhaenyra sat upon the high seat at the head of the table, her silver hair cascading down her back, her violet eyes sharp and commanding. Beside her stood Daemon, his features masked in a stoic expression.

Jace, was also present, seated nearby with his wife Lady Baela. Jace's demeanour was composed, but there was a hint of tension in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the weighty matters that were to be discussed.

At the far end of the table sat Corlys Velaryon, and his wife Rhaenys Targaryen, who served as the Hand of the Queen. Corlys' silver hair was swept back from his face, his gaze sharp and assessing, while Rhaenys sat with an air of authority, her posture straight and unwavering.

As Vaelys and Aemond approached the table, the members of the council rose to greet them, their faces a mixture of curiosity and concern. Queen Rhaenyra's voice cut through the silence, her tone commanding yet tinged with warmth.

"Welcome, back brother," she said, her voice echoing in the chamber. "We have much to discuss, but first, take a seat”.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Vaelys and Aemond took their places at the table.

“So how are you finding your return to Westeros?"

Aemond scoffed lightly, “It's only been two days," he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. "I've spent most of it with my children and in bed with my wife, making up for lost time"

As Aemond's jest echoed through the council chambers, a slight scowl marred the features of Jace. His brows furrowed in disapproval as he shot a sharp glance in Aemond's direction, his expression betraying a hint of annoyance at the cavalier remark.

Aemond, ever quick to notice the reactions of those around him, caught sight of Jace's disapproving glare and couldn't resist a smirk. His lips curled upward in amusement, a glint of mischief dancing in his eye as he met Jace's gaze head-on.

Rhaenyra turned her attention to her daughter, her gaze softening with maternal affection. "Vaelys, I was hoping you'd bring the children with you," she remarked, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Before Vaelys could respond, Aemond interjected with a hint of brusqueness in his tone. "My sister Helaena is looking after them," he stated bluntly, his words carrying a note of dismissal.

Rhaenyra's expression faltered briefly, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features at Aemond's curt reply.

Vaelys, sensing the tension in the air, placed a reassuring hand on her mother's arm. "I'm sorry, Mother," she said softly, casting a pointed glance at her husband. "Aemond thought it best they remain with Helaena for the time being."

"How was your time across the narrow sea?"

Aemond's response was sharp, his tone laced with a hint of accusation. "Why ask me a question that you already know the answer to-or did your little spies not tell you, sister?" he retorted, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Vaelys, sensing the tension in the air, turned to her mother with a furrowed brow. "Mother, what is he talking about? What spies?" she demanded, her voice edged with frustration.

Rhaenyra's gaze flickered for a moment, a hint of uncertainty crossing her features before she quickly composed herself. But Vaelys could see the slight tremor in her mother's hands, the subtle tightening of her jaw.

"Vaelys, it's nothing," Rhaenyra replied, her voice strained. "Just a misunderstanding."

But Vaelys wasn't satisfied with her mother's vague response. Anger simmered beneath the surface as she pressed for answers. "Nothing? It doesn't seem like nothing," she countered, her voice rising with frustration. "What spies, Mother?"

Daemon, ever the voice of reason, stepped forward, his expression grave. "I'm afraid it's true, Vaelys," he admitted reluctantly. "We had our agents keep an eye on Aemond during his time across the Narrow Sea. It was a precautionary measure, given the circumstances."

Vaelys' eyes widened in disbelief at her father's revelation. "What circumstances?" she repeated, her voice tinged with incredulity and growing concern.

Daemon's gaze softened as he met his daughter's questioning stare. "We had to make sure that wherever Aemond ended up, he didn't organize a coup with one of the Free Cities," he explained, his voice grave. "There were concerns that he might seek support to send soldiers to invade and take over Westeros, backing a prince with royal blood and the largest dragon in the world."

The weight of Daemon's words hung heavily in the air, the implications sinking in with chilling clarity. Vaelys struggled to comprehend the magnitude of the situation, the thought of her own mother and father plotting.

"And we also had to make sure that he didn't pop up somewhere in Westeros, breaking his exile," Daemon continued, his tone sombre.

For a moment no one dared to speak. Jace clasped Baela’s hand in his and Corly exchanged a concerned look with Rhaenys.

Aemond's voice cut through the tense silence of the council chambers, his tone tinged with bitterness and resignation. "Basically, they don't trust me, and they never will," he declared, his words heavy with the weight of truth. "Doesn’t matter that she only has the throne because I killed my fucking brother”.

"All this time-you knew where he was, and you never told me," exclaimed Vaelys, her words tinged with disbelief.

The weight of the realization settled heavily upon her, a sense of betrayal gnawing at her heart. For two years, she had wondered about her husband's whereabouts, fearing the worst, while all along, her own family had kept the truth from her.

Rhaenyra's expression softened with regret as she met her daughter's anguished gaze. "Vaelys, I..." she began, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words.

But Vaelys couldn't bear to hear any excuses or justifications. "How could you?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Then Daemon's words cut through the tense atmosphere of the council chambers like a knife, his tone laced with bitterness and accusation. "It is not only us that keep secrets from you," he remarked with a snide edge to his voice. "Why don’t you ask your husband about the woman in red whose company he frequently kept?"

Vaelys felt a surge of anger and betrayal rise within her at her father's insinuation. She knew exactly what he was accusing Aemond of, and the thought of her husband's potential infidelity filled her with a mixture of fury and hurt.

Vaelys then felt a seething rage boiling within her, an anger so potent that it rendered her speechless. The weight of betrayal and deceit hung heavy upon her shoulders, threatening to consume her from within. As her family's voices echoed around her in the council chambers, she found herself unable to utter a single word.

With a sense of numb detachment, Vaelys rose abruptly from her seat, the scraping of her chair against the floor the only sound she made. Ignoring the calls of her mother, the pleas of Aemond, she strode purposefully towards the exit, her footsteps echoing in the hushed silence of the chamber.

Her vision blurred with unshed tears, Vaelys pushed open the heavy doors of the council chambers, the cool air of the Red Keep's corridors washing over her like a wave. She quickened her pace, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of the truth that had been laid bare before her.

As she climbed into the saddle, settling herself upon Vermithor's broad back, Vaelys felt a sense of familiarity wash over her. The connection between dragon and rider was a bond forged in fire and blood, unbreakable and unwavering.

Beside her, Aemond approached on Vhagar, his expression etched with concern as he climbed onto the back of his own dragon. He looked towards his wife, a silent plea for her to speak, to share the burden that weighed so heavily upon her.

But Vaelys remained silent, her gaze fixed forward as the dragons took to the sky, their powerful wings beating against the air. The wind rushed past them, carrying with it the echoes of their flight as they soared through the clouds.

For the entirety of the journey back to Dragonstone, Vaelys remained lost in her own thoughts, her silence a testament to the depth of her anger and hurt.

Hours later and Vermithor and Vhagar were descending onto the shores of Dragonstone, the dragons' mighty wings beat against the air, creating a gust that stirred the sands below. Vaelys remained stoic in the saddle of Vermithor, her expression unreadable as she dismounted in silence.

Aemond, his brow furrowed with concern, followed suit, dismounting from Vhagar's back and landing lightly on the ground. He glanced at his wife, searching her face for any sign of emotion, but she remained as impassive as the stone walls of Dragonstone itself.

With a heavy heart, Aemond watched as Vaelys wordlessly turned away from him, striding purposefully towards the towering gates of Dragonstone's castle. He hurried to catch up with her, his footsteps echoing in the empty courtyard.

"Vaelys, please," he called out softly, his voice tinged with desperation. "Talk to me. "

But Vaelys remained silent, her eyes fixed straight ahead as she pushed open the heavy gates and disappeared into the depths of the castle.

As Aemond followed Vaelys into their chambers, the heavy silence weighed upon them like a suffocating blanket. He watched in growing concern as she moved with purpose, her movements tense and erratic.

Suddenly, without warning, Vaelys erupted into a frenzy of rage. She seized whatever objects lay within her reach and hurled them across the room with a force that startled Aemond. Books, vases, even small pieces of furniture became projectiles in her tempestuous storm.

Aemond stood frozen in place, his eyes wide with shock as he witnessed his wife's unbridled fury. He had never seen her like this before, consumed by such raw emotion that she seemed almost unrecognizable.

"Vaelys, stop!" he called out, his voice filled with urgency, but she paid him no heed. Her rage burned bright and fierce, an inferno consuming everything in its path.

Desperate to calm her, Aemond approached slowly, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Please, Vaelys," he pleaded, his voice soft and soothing.

But Vaelys continued her rampage, her eyes blazing with a fire that refused to be quenched. In that moment, she seemed untouchable, lost in the whirlwind of her own emotions.

As the chaos of Vaelys' fury raged around them, her voice pierced through the tumult with a raw, anguished cry. "It was in that bed—where I struggled to birth our son," she screamed, her words laced with pain and accusation. "The blood, the pain-I thought I was going to die. I called for you-I kept calling for you and you didn't come."

Her voice cracked with emotion as she continued, her words carrying the weight of years of unspoken anguish. "But she was there, holding my hand, listening to me weep for you. And all this time, she knew where you were."

Vaelys' words rang out like a fiery proclamation, her voice filled with a ferocity that sent shivers down Aemond's spine. "I'll go back there and burn it down!" she shouted, her tone laced with determination and rage.

But before she could make a move to leave, Aemond acted swiftly, wrapping his arms around her, and pulling her back into the room. "Not so fast," he interjected firmly, his voice commanding.

Vaelys struggled against his hold, her desperation evident as she fought to break free. "No, Aemond, let me go! I'm going to burn them all," she cried out, her eyes flashing with a mad glint.

Aemond held her tightly, refusing to let her slip away into the darkness of her own fury. "Vaelys, listen to me," he urged, his voice gentle yet firm. "Burning things down won't solve anything”.

"No, it will solve everything," argued Vaelys vehemently, her words dripping with contempt. "Because then I'll be free of the lying cunts!"

Her eyes blazed with an intensity that matched the flames she longed to unleash upon those who had betrayed her trust. Each syllable carried the weight of her righteous fury, a testament to the depth of her pain and the magnitude of her anger.

Aemond tightened his embrace, his heart aching with the realization of the depth of her anguish. "Vaelys, I understand your anger," he said softly, his voice pleading. "But vengeance will only lead to more suffering."

But Vaelys shook her head defiantly, her gaze unwavering. "No, Aemond," she insisted, her voice unwavering. "This is justice. They deserve to feel the same pain they inflicted upon me."

Aemond's heart sank as he realized the depth of his wife's despair, the darkness that threatened to consume her from within. He knew that he couldn't let her succumb to the lure of vengeance, no matter how justified it may seem in the heat of the moment.

"You asked for me," said Aemond, his voice heavy with regret. "Had I known, I would have come. Rhaenyra would have had me executed for it, but I would have broken my exile-for you."

Vaelys felt a surge of emotion welling within her, the anger and resentment that had consumed her gradually beginning to ebb away. She stopped struggling against Aemond's embrace, her body relaxing as she listened to his heartfelt confession.

“Aemond I-“ whispered Vaelys.

"For the two years I was in exile-I felt dead inside. I had no idea that someone could exist with their heart outside of their body."

"I felt the same way-every day I would look across the narrow sea and wonder if you was on the other side looking back" replied Vaelys.

"I was-I was always looking" said Aemond.

Despite the surge in her chest at Aemonds admittence, she had to know.

"What about the red woman?" asked Vaelys softly, her voice hesitant.

Aemond's expression softened, a weary sigh escaping his lips as he considered how to respond. "She was a High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis," he explained, his tone tinged with resignation. "She could see visions in the flames."

He paused; his gaze distant as memories of his time in exile flooded back to him. "I kept her company because-I was intrigued by the Lord of Light," he admitted, his voice trailing off.

"What did she see in the flames?" asked Vaelys, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Se bōsa bantis iksos māzis. Hen aōha ānogar māzigon se dārilaros bona istan kīvio, se zȳhon jāhor sagon se vāedar hen suvion se perzys” (The long night is coming. From your blood comes the princess that was promised, and hers will be the song of ice and fire).

“Dārilaros?” asked Vaelys (Princess).

“Daenerys jelmāzmo hen targārio lentrot” (Daenerys stormborn of House Targaryen).

“When?” asked Vaelys.

“Many years from now, our fifth great granddaughter will ascend the Iron Throne and unite the realm against the enemy in the North” replied Aemond.

“Did she show you anything else”.

For a moment Aemond seemed hesitant to answer, but then he took a deep breath and closed his eye.

“She showed me a future where it was Lucerys that went to Storms End instead and Vhagar killed him, the war happened and many more died-The greens and the blacks, we destroyed our house. My own death at the hands of your father, my only legacy was that of a kinslayer and my bastard son sired on a woods witch” muttered Aemond.

“W-What about me?” asked Vaelys.

“You were dead, I was the one who killed you” replied Aemond, tears running down his cheek.

“Oh Aemond” said Vaelys his words sending a chill down her spine.

"I-I want you to know that I would never hurt you. I’d rather cast myself into the depths of the seven hells before I raised a hand too you”.

Tears welled in her eyes as she reached for him, her fingers intertwining with his in a silent promise of devotion. "Aemond," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, "I trust you. And I love you."

Aemond leaned forward, his heart pounding with a mixture of longing and desperation. Without a word, he closed the distance between them, his lips meeting Vaelys' in a passionate kiss.

"Ever since the Red Woman showed me that vision of the future," Aemond lamented, his voice heavy with sorrow, "I didn't want to go to sleep."

He looked into Vaelys' eyes; his gaze haunted by the spectre of the nightmare that had plagued him. "I feared waking up in that terrible future, where you were gone-where I lived a life never experiencing your love."

His words hung in the air, a raw admission of the depths of his despair and longing. Aemond reached out to Vaelys, his hand trembling as it sought hers, desperate for the reassurance of her touch, almost afraid she would disappear.

Feeling the weight of his emotions pressing upon him, Aemond leaned forward again, his lips seeking hers in a tender and passionate kiss. In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of their embrace and the softness of her lips against his.

As their kiss deepened, Aemond poured his heart into the gentle touch, seeking solace and connection in the midst of their shared vulnerability.

When they finally parted, Aemond rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the stillness of the chamber. He closed his eye, savouring the closeness they shared, grateful for the love that bound them together.

“Make love to me” whispered Aemond.

Vaelys met his gaze with a tender smile, her eyes filled with understanding and love. Without a word, she took him by the hand, leading him with gentle determination towards the bed.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond x original female character #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond #prince aemond #aemond smut #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #queen rhaenyra #daemon targeryan #hotd #hotd smut

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sinnerdolly · 2 months

Text

The chosen bride — Viking!Barou Shouei.

Minors do not interact. Nsfw/Smut.

word counter—2381.

Plot—you're a French noblewoman that was forced to marry the barbarian king Barou. He seems to look at you like the most delicious peace of meat, would you fall for that abrasive sexual tension you both have?

warning— rough sex, oral sex, breeding kink, arranged marriage. Y/n's is short and has huge boobs.

English isn't my mother language, if you see any error you're welcome to correct me.

Since I was little, my father repeated over and over again in my ears: "You can't imagine the future I chose for you". Of course, until I was twenty-two I had nothing left to do but fantasize about the meaning of it, because he claimed that he didn't want to make my sisters jealous.

I was immensely disappointed when I found out the truth: here I was engaged to a barbarian king who examined me as if I were an insect. His smug gaze fell on my breasts and then on my hips.

“I’ll keep her” Just like that King Barou sentenced my destiny to be his wife.

The nobles around him seemed not to like the idea very much, one of them dared to speak and told him something in Nordic, a language that Chigiri not long ago began to teach me.

“Her hips are thick, her breasts are huge, and her skin is pink. Lady D'angelo seems much more fertile than all our women, whoever challenges me again will clean their own blood from the stone under my feet.”

Chigiri and I exchanged glances, the comment would have been about my uneven appearance compared to the Viking women. I was not tall and slender, my height was no more than five feet six and my dresses had to be custom-made because my breasts did not fit into any corset, something that my future husband seemed to enjoy.

King Barou was immense, with pronounced features and black hair that fell straight and long almost to his shoulders. The way he sat was menacing: legs spread, back leaning on the wooden throne… the aura around him conveyed danger, while every word that came out of his mouth was equivalent to the roar of a lion. In my years as a noblewoman, being the daughter of the advisor to the king of France, I had never witnessed anything like this. What lay before me was not a king, but a beast.

The beast's eyes sharpened on Chigiri as soon as he caught our exchange of glances.

“Who is that?”

All eyes turned to Chigiri, my father cleared his throat softly and answered: “He is my daughter's mentor, he will stay by her side to teach her to speak your language, my lord.”

My heart seemed to skip a beat when I saw that Barou didn't take his eyes off him.

“I'm going to be the one who teaches her, I want him outside my kingdom.”

Chigiri did not give me a single look, I knew what was going on in his head, just one look could confirm Barou's suspicions. The man I am in love with did not speak to me again... not even when he left in the carriage with my father, not even knowing that we would never see each other again.

[ … ]

The days in my new home were a torment, only the court and my fiancé speak my language, but they are not very pleasant people to talk to. So the days are summarized in reading and rereading the ten books that I managed to bring with me. The rooms that correspond to me are immense and opulent considering how rustic this country is, it is clear that they tried to make it as similar as possible to France, a cute detail if they wouldn’t constantly ignore me.

My loneliness and smallness allowed me to sneak far to inspect the castle. I was like a weirdo in their eyes, I have the feeling that they see me as a rabbit, the ladies look at me with disdain, incredulous that a man of Barou's lineage would want to marry me... while the servants look at me with pity and try to guide me, even without speaking the same language.

“Fuck” I murmured, I had gotten lost between massive rock walls.

“What are you doing in my chambers area?”

My skin crawled hearing such a harsh voice speak such rough French. I turned around slowly, in front of me stood my fiancé, with whom I had not exchanged a word since they abandoned me here. His proud and unreadable countenance as always, serene could also be called.

“I got lost” The nerves gnawed at me in such a way that my voice came out with a repressed and insecure tone through my throat. Seeing his intense gaze I was forced to look away immediately, something that had never happened to me before with a man, not even Chigiri.

His eyes swept me from head to toe, when, suddenly, his immense figure cornered me against the stone. My heart pumped harder, I couldn't breathe, it was as if a lion was about to devour me... does he want to consummate our treaty? I wouldn't be surprised if these barbarians raped me when I am alone and vulnerable, who cares about me after all? My father and Chigiri clearly don't.

“My subjects don't treat you well?”

I looked up slowly, finding an expression other than arrogant, he seemed worried and upset, his body over mine like a protective barrier. It would be a lie to say that I wasn't stunned by this sudden statement on his part.

“I asked you a question”

I considered his words for a moment, if his consideration for me was so great... accusing them before this barbarian was not a bad option, but perhaps not the most astute.

“N-no, my lord.” I lied, the nervousness that this man caused me was of unimaginable proportions.

That penetrating gaze went down through my eyes to my neck and breasts, I watched his jaw tense and his pupils dilate, his chest and pulse seemed to run at a faster pace under the furs he was wearing. I smiled a little and, although I tried to hide it, it didn't take a second for his eyes to catch it.

“Do you dare to make fun of me?”

He uttered the words indignantly, but with an intensity that indicated that any misstep would result in her getting her pussy fucked... What the fuck am I thinking? He is a barbarian.

“Not at all… it's just that the king seems to have certain marked tastes.”

Where had that come from? I didn't even know it, but my soul seemed ecstatic to provoke this beast. Even he was surprised, his irises turned dark and he licked his lips.

“My tastes don't matter, I chose you because your curves are the most fertile I have ever seen.”

That sentence sparked a fire that spread through every leaf of my being, there was something primal about that sentence that burned away every iota of perceived masculinity in my life. I wanted to be in his bed, I needed him to fill me, my blood boiled as if it were witchcraft... What was this sudden infatuation that was corroding my insides?

⌈ Barou ⌋

I was not attracted to the women of my kingdom and that for a king is a big problem. Every week several Jarls arrived and offered their daughters as lovers or wives, but none of them sparked my interest, none seemed worthy of bearing my offspring.

It wasn't until a certain French king had a crisis and he proposed to me for the hand of one of his ladies in exchange for some riches. At the beginning, a deal that I accepted out of courtesy, I had no interest in dirtying Viking blood... until I saw her enter through the door and my eyes became ecstatic at such a sign from the Gods. My cock grew hard, the need to lay her on the floor and spill the first load inside her gnawing at me... but her expression of sadness and terror calmed my instincts.

“Are you sure you didn't choose me out of desire?”

It was amazing that her gorgeous features could show such a lascivious expression like the one she wore now. The little Frenchwoman was trying my patience, she provoked me as if days ago she had not cried in horror for marrying a barbarian. It was incredible, after being forced to watch the door to her chambers every night because I believed she would escape from it... I had her in front of me eager to be taken.

I grabbed her neck roughly, without hurting her or putting pressure on her, for a moment she seemed scared. Her contact with her third skin made it hard instantly, since she was in the castle she had not been flaccid. I moved closer to her throat and breathed in her heady European perfume.

"The only thing I thought was that your pussy would look gorgeous dripping with my cum..." I licked her chin during the pause.

I could feel her heart pumping uncontrollably and how her body was not able to stand on its own. As I stood up again, her eyes begged me to take her, so I decided it was time to claim my queen. I carried her over my shoulder without much effort, something that alarmed her a little, because she began to struggle and demand that I get off her, something that a spanking can't solve. When my hand hit her ass, she let out a cry of surprise mixed with a moan. I laughed at that reaction, to which she hit my shoulder, an act that caused me to laugh even harder.

When I got to my chambers I threw her on my bed, she looked at me with reddened cheeks and pupils flooded with lust. I let the furs that rested on my shoulders fall and easily removed the shirt that covered my torso, y/n bit her lip and she uncomfortably brought her thighs together when she saw me. I smiled proudly, took her left ankle and pulled it towards me.

I grabbed her neck again and devoured her full lips with need for her. She did not hesitate to follow as she seemed to share my blinded state. My hand forcefully lowered her neckline, I freed those puppies tortured by the devilish corset, I couldn't resist the urge to lick and bite them, the gasps I stole from her mouth were the hottest thing I had ever heard.

[ Reader ]

I was screwed, but I couldn't help but give in. What other option did I have but to enjoy the pleasures this beast offered? The desire for me consumed him, I wasn't going to be so stupid as to reject the wet dream of every woman living or dead.

His tongue soaked every corner of my exposed skin and, upon reaching my thigh area, he tore off my panties and licked fervently between my folds. No man had done that before, the barbarian was devouring me as my premonitions said... but in an intoxicating way. Saliva slid and dripped onto the sheets; even when my legs threatened to close, Barou sucked harder on my clitoris.

After I came in his mouth, he emerged from between my thighs with the look of a hungry lion cornering its prey. He licked his lips and swallowed any residual orgasm fluid as his baggy black leather pants fell to the frigid floor. My eyes focused on his thick member, precum glistened on his glans and veins revealed how massive he is. Even knowing that he would get me pregnant on the first try, I begged him to put it inside right now.

"You are aware that if I take you now I won't stop until your uterus overflows... are you sure you want to continue?" His words were abrupt, but I couldn't help but nod. “Let's continue then.”

He opened my thighs firmly and looked voraciously, while his thumb opened my wet folds.

“You're ready”

Suddenly, he turned me around like a feather, my cheek against the pillow and my hips raised. I could feel the heat of his body approaching mine from behind, his giant hands held my waist in place, the anxiety was something to savor at that moment. His glans made its way between my walls, the stretch turned my eyes to the sky, every inch I managed to take felt searing, but so satisfying.

A guttural moan echoed from every corner of the room as his pelvis collided for the first time against the skin of my ass. Stiff and throbbing I had engulfed him completely inside me, my pussy lubricated him so much I could feel the fluids sliding down my thighs, the bed would be a mess after we were done. The thrusts were gentle at first, as if the beast king was looking for my limits, scared of my size compared to him; still, each entry was precise, the most sensitive points were rubbed masterfully and the pitch of my gasps increased. But, although the consistency felt delicious, my patience has an end and I needed him to completely let go of that bestiality that he displayed so much.

“Fuck, harder, idiot.”

To deny that the utterance of those words was somewhat violent would be a lie, but this man's anger was not justifiable. In an instant my hair was pulled and my pussy was being brutally attacked, the moans turned into screams which, in turn, I couldn't hear because the pleasure overrode all my senses. I knew I wouldn't last long at this pace, I could feel his smirk as he saw me unstable and completely fucked.

I almost lost consciousness as the orgasm consumed my body, all I could think about was his cum spilling inside me. I felt so much peace, so much satisfaction, I was no longer interested in France, Chigiri or my family, I was happy being fucked in his bed.

⌈ Barou ⌋

Her recently fertilized pussy was tensing, in a poor attempt to spill my semen, to which I took her hips to put them in a position that my load was directly towards her cervix, with my fingers I collected the spilled semen and sank them slowly inside her warm folds freshly abused by my cock.

My queen looked at me somewhat dazed and confused by the deafening orgasm I had given her, to which I smiled proudly and satisfied.

“Until your belly grows, your pussy is going to be stuffed every night.”

#blue lock #bl smut #blue lock smut #barou shouei #nagi seishiro #chigiri hyoma #reo mikage #nagi seishiro smut #chigiri smut #bachira meguru #bachira smut

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lovelykhaleesiii · 1 year

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Betrothal from Hell

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader, Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,293.

SUMMARY: How the Targaryen princes react to hearing that you’ve been betrothed, and not to them…

WARNINGS: dark!aegon, dubcon, somnophilia, mentions of pregnancy, dark!aemond, implied murder. MINORS DNI!!!

A/N - I rushed this, but I felt the urge to write. I actually can not get enough of these two, it’s not normal.

AEGON ii:

It made Aegon livid that he knew you’d already been betrothed to another.

His family had made plans since he was just a mere babe, of his reign as King.

Although, the plans hadn’t yet been set in stone & he could always amend them, for he knew once he was crowned no one could question his high authority.

But for now, he was just a Prince. You were highborn, and yet ripe of womanhood a suitor had already been favoured for you.

That wouldn’t stop Aegon.

Having grown up royal and spoilt, Aegon was taught the royal decrees. What to do, what not to do by order of the Faith.

In his calculating mind he knew the loop holes that were necessary sacrifices he’d have to make to save you all for himself.

It would tarnish your reputation. Gods your family might even disown you.

He didn’t care. The primal instinct in Aegon, the countless thoughts of your maidenhood being corroded by another was close to driving him mad.

If he could, he’d have the man killed by order in an instant, although, he knew this would cause problems down the line in his reign, and for now he was still yet just a Prince.

He’d have no choice but to spoil you for himself before you were to be wed.

Aegon and yourself had a few fleeting moments, although you’d stop yourself before you’d given into the lust as Aegon would.

And when you’d told Aegon of your betrothal, ruling that it would be the final time you’d see him, he couldn’t bare it.

He hasn’t slept properly for the weeks to come, drank even more wine if that could be possible, and succumbed to loneliness. No whore in King’s Landing could fulfill the numbness he felt if he’d lost you completely.

The more he thought about it, the more his plan came to life however.

And so it was, Aegon decided that you swell with his child and his child alone.

He knew if he persisted and pursued you long enough he’d be able to cave you into carnal pleasure, and so be it if not, he’d take matters into his own hand.

He didn’t want to risk you turning him down, so he arranged for a maester to create a tea spiked with some herb that would make you helplessly less aware, less alert. He even threatened to kill the maester if he’d so much as whisper his plan to another.

He’d sneak himself into your chambers at night and forcing himself into you.

You’d thought you’d saw Aegon on top of you, and convinced yourself it was a dream. Allowing your deep conscious to feel one last round of pleasure with Aegon even if it was only a dream.

However you began feeling strange the next few weeks to come, you felt more tiresome without even having lifted a finger, felt tender in certain areas & you couldn’t manage to keep food down.

Your mother had a maester come in to see you and had no other explanation to give (very hesitantly as he knew you were still not wed) that you were with child.

You’d never felt so confused, never so lost until Aegon presented himself to your family estate, wanting to speak to you in private.

It was only when he found himself alone with you, did he confide in you his intentions and what he had done.

“I did it for you, my beloved. I couldn’t bear the thought of you with another man, let alone to lay with him.”

Aegon instructed you to inform your parents that you were to end your betrothal. “You can conspire whatever reason with your family. Just tell them, that in return the heir to the Iron Throne, himself, would marry you.”

You were left speechless, even hurt. And yet, you found yourself obeying your whatever command Aegon set.

It wasn’t easy letting your betrothed know, his whole world turned upside down. You hadn’t mentioned anything about Aegon, nor the child that began to grow within you.

Aegon flew you back to King’s Landing, you begged for him to give you a months time before you both were to be wed, although the more you showed the less time you had, and more people would begin to connect the dots. Many supposing you’d seduced Aegon to this marriage when in actuality, it was the opposite.

As the time grew on, the hatred and betrayal you felt began to fade, as Aegon catered for your every needs. He carried himself as the true King that he was believed to be, and despite his family criticising his choice in you, they’d come to realise how good you were for him.

AEMOND:

You were petrified of breaking the news to Aemond that you were betrothed.

You loved Aemond in every possible way and if it had been your choice, he would’ve been the one you’d wanted.

He was all you ever wanted.

However your family had ties with another, and before your birth, they’d made commitments of their firstborn daughter being wed to your betrothed.

And your family was renowned for their loyalty.

They did not think Aemond to be lesser, although that was definitely what he assumed.

“Your father does not think I’m worthy, not your mother, a good enough son for her.”

You tried to plead your case to Aemond countless times, you’d retold the story many a times and yet he was in denial.

Before you could even apologise for the guilt, having felt you led Aemond on for far too long, he remained silent, storming back to Vhagar before flying into the sky, leaving you lonesome.

You’d returned home to your family hastily discussing plans, which you remained oblivious to.

They knew how you felt and had hoped you’d changed your mind, or more so your feelings.

They tried everything, to nudge you closer to your betrothed, arranging play dates and feasts, although there was always something or rather someone in the way.

Aemond did not like to share.

He’d met with your family a fair few times, even dined with them. For God’s sake, he was Prince Regent, it was an absolute honour to serve him under their roof.

And yet, still they stuck by to the word they’d decreed over a decade ago.

It was only the morning after, did your mother rush into your room, her eyes strained and reddened.

“My dear Y/N, something terrible has happened.”

And so she explains the freak accident that had befallen your late betrothed.

Found dead ashore, near the cliff side of his family’s estate. A clean slash to the throat.

As much as you’d wanted to feel bad, it didn’t flow naturally.

And as much as you would come to deny it, you knew all to well who the killer might’ve been.

Although, the last you’d seen Aemond you two were completely alone. If anything, know one would’ve known it could’ve been the Prince for many knew that he was occupied with a royal tour with his family.

And it seemed no one had spotted a dragon in this vicinity, for Aemond would disclose to you later the details of his plan.

“It was all for you. I did what I did, for you Y/N.”

You’d convinced Aemond it was best not to rush into announcing your newest betrothal to the Prince Regent himself. It would make it all too suspicious.

You would allow for your family to grieve and yourself, before Aemond would ask for your hand in marriage.

Your family still besotted and defeated, did not fight this.

“Mayhaps, the Gods wished for our daughter to wed the Prince, who are we to deny you a husband?”

#aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #ewan mitchell #tom glynn carney #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii targaryen imagines #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 1 year

Text

𝐀𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 - Aemond Targaryen

third and last part to this mini series. i didn't think i'd make a part two but it came to me in a dream and i couldn't ignore my dreams, also peer pressure but that doesn't matter haha...anyway *cough* also, this last part came to me at like 3 am so

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), (TW) suicide attempt, attempted sexual assault, Stockholm syndrome, heavy angst, kinda Dark!Aemond (he gets better tho cause i couldn't help myself), incest, mild dubcon, oral (f!receiving), romantic-ish love making, fluff ughhh (this fic makes a complete 180 i'm sorry)

word count | 6k🤙🏻😅

part one | part two

You had never felt more hopeless in your entire life.

You had been pretty resilient throughout your time at King’s Landing, but it slowly dwindled the longer you were forced to stay.

The Greens chipped away at your strength piece by piece until there was barely anything left. You had been forced to stay in your designated chambers, no one allowed in or out besides the maids and guards. You couldn’t count how long it had been since you had seen a friendly face. You were completely alone. You hadn’t even seen your uncle since that night he forced himself on you, you wondered if he got punished for it. Probably not. You hated that you started to actually miss him.

You just wanted to talk to somebody, anybody. You couldn’t just keep staying at the walls all day every day. You even started to wonder how badly it would hurt to throw yourself off your balcony. Would you die before you even hit the ground? Or worse, would you survive the fall?

You had woken up from a nightmare in a cold sweat one morning, shivering and aching all over. You didn’t get out of bed until your mouth started flooding with saliva, a sinking feeling washing over you as you felt your stomach lurch. You barely made it to your chamber pot before emptying the contents of your stomach, bile burning the back of your throat and tears streaming down your face. Spots blurred your vision as you slumped against the wall, leaning your head back as you closed your eye. You tried not to wince as your abdomen tensed painfully, another wave of nausea washing over you. You felt like you had been hit by a dragon, aches and pains all over your body including your empty eye socket. Perhaps the Stranger was finally coming to take you away? Would you be okay with that? Is death really better than being imprisoned?

Unfortunately, you weren’t able to find out. One of the maids that made your baths came in as you started to fall unconscious, but that darkness never took you as she slashed some cold water on your face, making you gasp awake. “You are burning up, my Lady.” The maid spoke softly. “Oh dear, you’ve vomited.”

“Clearly.” You mumbled incoherently.

“How long since you’ve last bled, my Lady?”

Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest for a moment, the thought immediately making you panic. But it hadn’t been that long ago. Sure, it was before Aemond had taken your virginity, but that didn’t automatically mean his seed had taken. “Almost two weeks ago.”

“I shall call for the maester.” The maid helped you to your bed, propping you up onto your pillows and leaving promptly.

No, you weren’t pregnant. You would know, wouldn’t you? Surely, women have a sort of sixth sense about that kind of stuff, right? You could only wait for the maester to tell you. But what would happen if you actually were? Would Alicent marry you and Aemond? The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

A gentle breeze blew in from the balcony. You often kept the doors open as the cool night air helped you fall asleep faster. The idea of escaping this life got more and more appealing as you kept thinking about what would happen if you were carrying a babe. A life such as this is no place to raise a baby, especially not with an enemy of your mother. You made your decision.

You cried out as you stood up from your bed, limping your way to your balcony with wobbly feet. You accidentally hit the wall on your left side, still having great difficulty adjusting to your new eyesight. But it would not matter soon enough. With shaking hands, you held onto the railing of your balcony, looking down on all your mother’s subjects. The sun was barely peeking out from the horizon, casting the kingdom in a light orange glow. King’s Landing was beautiful, truly. It would’ve made a nice home had your mother’s crown hadn’t been stolen. You could imagine your family’s dragons flying freely over the rooftops and towers of the Red Keep, your brothers smiling and laughing with each other, your parents ruling peacefully. Yeah, it would’ve been amazing.

You let out a sob as you heard your dragon’s roars pierce through the air, feeling your sorrow and despair like it was their own. You hoped nothing bad would happen to your dragon. Perhaps they’d get a new rider after you were gone. Maybe the Greens would set them free, let the creature grieve in peace away from the war. Doubtful. The thought almost made you back away from the rail, but you couldn’t handle it anymore. All your life you had been selfless, this one moment would be one of the only times you could allow yourself to be selfish. It would make things easier for your mother. Without the threat of you being killed by the Greens, she could finally torch everyone inside the Red Keep with her dragons.

You struggled to make it up on the railing, but you managed it. You breathed heavily as you looked down, the people below looking as small as ants. You would be okay, you decided. It was a long way down, you would be dead on impact. You smiled weakly as you thought it might feel like you were flying one last time. If not a dragonrider’s death, this would have to do.

You took one final deep breath before stepping off the ledge, expecting to feel the weightlessness of freefall, only it never came.

You were suddenly pulled back violently, falling to the floor of the balcony, your back hitting something hard, but it wasn’t the concrete. You struggled against whoever thwarted your attempt to take your own life, until you saw the briefest flash of long white hair, grazing past your face lightly. “Let me go!” You growled.

“I meant it when I said I’d never let you go.” Aemond spoke quietly, holding you in his arms as tightly as he could without hurting you. “Or did you not remember?” Oh, you remembered alright, how could you not? “I must say, I am quite disappointed that you’d try to leave like this. To kill yourself and possibly our unborn child?” He clicked his tongue in disapproval, but there was an undertone in his voice that made it seem like he was actually upset.

“I’m not pregnant.” You snapped as sharply as you could, feeling your body begging you to give up and give out.

“The maester will be the judge of that. He’s on his way. I’ll make sure you stay alive until then, dear niece.”

Yet again, you were taken back to your bed, your uncle sitting in a chair next to the bed and watching you like a hawk. It was unnerving, to say the least. You kept looking up at the ceiling as sweat kept beading on your forehead, the pain in your abdomen forcing tears in your eye that cascaded down the side of your face. You’ve never missed your mother more. All you wanted was her by your side, to hear her call you her sweet girl one more time, to feel her kiss your forehead in that motherly way only she could. You whimpered as you tried to hold back a sob, curling your fingers into your palm tightly, trying to think of anything else but home.

You flinched as Aemond took your hand, unballing your fist and simply holding it gently, occasionally running his thumb over your knuckles. “Don’t worry, the maester’s due any minute now.” It was so unlike him, to be somewhat reassuring and nice. Did seeing you in utter agony finally thaw his ice cold heart?

“Please, let me go…” You whispered weakly, your voice breaking pitifully.

“No.” He answered.

“What will happen if I am with child, Aemond? I’m sure your mother won’t be too happy about that. She’ll probably kill me herself.” You winced as he squeezed your hand tightly in warning, glaring at you before sighing.

“Do you really think her to be that cruel?”

“You have to get in from somewhere, right?” You gasped as he ripped his hand from yours roughly, standing up to pace with his arms behind his back.

“Must you be so stubborn? I am here trying to be nice and you’re behaving like an ungrateful wretch.” He ranted, his voice threatening to rise but never doing so. He was always skilled at keeping his composure, but you could see how his body tensed and every minute microexpression gave way how much he desired to shout at you.

You scoffed. “I’m sorry if I’m having difficulty letting my guard down in front of my kidnapper.”

“Believe it or not, you are much safer here than you’d ever be at Dragonstone.”

“I don’t care how safe I might be here, I want to go home. I want to be with my family.”

“You are with your family.”

“You don’t treat your family with such hostility. You don’t force your family to take out their own eye. You don’t take away your family’s birthright when it wasn’t theirs to take.”

Aemond chuckled darkly. “You’re one to talk, niece. You took my eye over an insult.”

“You were going to kill my brother.”

“You know I never would have gone through with it. I was a child.”

“And so was I.”

“And then your mother wanted me tortured after you maimed me. My own sister. And don’t tell me she said I was to be sharply questioned. What do you suppose that means, hm? You know, she never once treated me like her own flesh and blood. Nor Aegon, or even Helaena. She never treated us like we were her family. We were always just Alicent’s children. That’s all. Do you think we never wanted a relationship with our own sister? All this was Rhaenyra’s doing, you’d be a fool to not see that. You hold her up on a pedestal, you think she can do no wrong.” Aemond sighed, shaking his head. “If we really were her family, this never would have happened in the first place.”

You wanted to continue the conversation, so badly, but your body simply did not allow it. You let out a soft groan as your throbbing head lolled back, hitting the soft pillows beneath you. You felt like you were going to throw up again, but nothing came up. It didn’t take but a moment until Aemond was back beside you, feeling your forehead with the back of his hand. You heard the doors to your chambers open, the sound of voices and footsteps growing distant until you blacked out.

Aemond hated how worried he was. He wanted to stop his feet from forcing him to pace back and forth outside your doors, the maester inside working to figure out what was happening to you.

You had shown symptoms of being pregnant, but what if it was something else? Would that be better or worse? Alicent had reprimanded him so harshly for bringing you to King’s Landing, Aemond didn’t even know if she would agree to marry them. So if you were with child, it would be a bastard, just like you.

Aemond growled in frustration as the maester took his sweet time in your quarters, then flinching slightly when his mother appeared in front of him. “How is she?” Alicent asked, her voice barely above a whisper, like she feared she’d distract the maester if she spoke any louder even though he was on the other side of a door.

“She was burning up, passed out as soon as the maester arrived.”

Aemond tried not to look worried, more inconvenienced, but Alicent’s motherly instincts, what little she had, could tell he was more upset that he led on. “I’m sure she’ll be alright.” She smiled reassuringly.

Aemond hummed. “Her mother wouldn’t be too pleased if she dies in our care, surely. Has she written back with an answer yet?”

Alicent shook her head. “No. But I know her. She would do anything to protect her children, so I’m hopeful.” They each turned their attention to the maester who exited your room. “What news?”

“I’m afraid the flesh around her eye is infected. We will need to cut away the infected flesh and keep her under our watch around the clock to make sure it doesn’t get infected again. I am hopeful that she will be okay, but we need to get her to surgery immediately.”

“Of course, maester. Do whatever you need to do.”

The surgery was long and tedious, but you made it out okay. The Queen mother had maids rotate out every few hours to keep watch on you, the maester visiting every several hours to check on your bandages and making sure to keep the wound clean. You were asleep all the while, constantly being given milk of the poppy to keep you under and pain free. Not that you’d ever know, but you were in the prayers of Alicent and Helaena, despite being the daughter of the enemy. Aegon couldn’t care less, he thought it was idiotic to keep you alive. But Aemond, he was never seen far from your chambers. He’d visit to see how you were fairing every so often, but he never stayed very long. It wasn’t until the third day of recovery that he stayed in your room more often.

Being addled on milk of the poppy, you had no clue what was going on around you. It was hard to care either way. But sometimes you’d wake up in the middle of the night and you would see Aemond sitting in a chair near the fireplace, reading a book and simply just staring into the flames, then you’d pass out yet again. It became a comfort of sorts to find Aemond in your room, you’d rather it be him than anyone else. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t, but you slowly started to not see him as a devil. After that conversation you had with him before your surgery, you started to feel bad for him, despite him being the reason you only had one eye now. Although, now that you knew what it was like, it had made you understand him and his motivations a bit more.

After a couple more days, you were starting to be weaned off milk of the poppy. Your head ached and your wound throbbed, but you were glad you were conscious again. But the more conscious you became, the less you saw of Aemond. You were surprised that you actually felt sad by that. This man had kidnapped and violated you, you should’ve been happy to have some space from him. Now you just felt lonely again. You were back to only seeing your maids faces, now the maester every other day. But you were now able to get up and walk around, as long as you didn’t push yourself. You couldn’t even if you wanted to, but now your balcony doors were barred. Aemond must’ve told everyone what had happened, the thought embarrassed you more than it should have.

You were trying to unbar the balcony doors one night, not to jump this time, but you missed the breeze. But you were stopped when your doors opened loudly, causing you to jump and turn around to see… “Aegon?”

“Niece!” The usurper king grinned. “So glad to see you’re up and about, you look healthier than ever. You gave us all a fright you did.”

“You’re drunk, what a surprise.”

“Hey, you’d be drunk all the time if you had to be king too, or, er, queen.”

You rolled your eye, crossing your arms to protect your modesty. “What are you doing here, Aegon?”

“King.” He corrected.

“Not to me.” You snapped, making him frown and send a glare your way.

“Disrespectful cunt.” He mumbled, stumbling towards a chair and taking a seat rather ungracefully.

You probably should’ve been extra cautious around Aegon, even more so since he was drunk, but you had a hard time being afraid when he looked so pitiful. You stepped towards him, kneeling down beside him with the most condescending expression you could muster. “Maybe I’d have more respect if you weren’t a drunken entitled man child that steals his own sister’s throne. You will be a worse king than Maegor the Cruel.”

Despite Aegon being completely wasted, he grabbed a hold of your neck like he was sober, standing up and forcing you up with him, the tightness around your neck making your head spin. “How dare you speak to your king that way?” He spat, his other hand slapping your face and squishing your jaw. “You wish to know true cruelty? Perhaps I shall bring you to my chambers tonight? One night with me and you’ll be on your knees praying that the Stranger comes and takes you away. Or would you enjoy that? Your mother is a whore, maybe the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree? I’ve always wondered what you’d feel like around my cock. I’ve talked to my brother about it, I thought he’d be man enough to come take your maidenhead. But you’re quivering like a leaf right now, maybe I was wrong. I guess my brother is still that little boy who couldn’t stand up for himself. No matter. Your king will take you. You should be honored.”

You quickly bit Aegon’s hand as hard as you could, hearing him let out a satisfying yelp, feeling his harsh grip on you release enough so that you could push him away. “You’re vile!” You yelled, keeping a chair in between you and the drunken man.

Aegon laughed, running his hands through his greasy hair. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you…much. Hey, how about this, I’ll forgive your treachery and let you live if you let me take your virginity?”

“Aemond already took it, you fool.” You scowled.

“Oh!” He grinned darkly. “How about that? Guess I don’t have to be gentle with you after all.”

“No, no!” You screamed as Aegon kicked the chair away from you, grabbing you and dragging you to your bed, although with a bit of a struggle due to his drunken state. “Let me go, you lecherous perv!”

Aegon’s mischievous smile quickly dropped as he felt cool steel be placed at the juncture of his neck, the metal already lightly scraping his skin and forcing blood to trickle down his skin. “You heard her. Let her go.” You let out a quiet sigh of relief as Aemond came into view, his dark eye burning into the back of Aegon’s head.

“Brother, you know I could have your head for this?” Aegon growled.

“Not much a king can do if he’s dead.” He said as he pressed the dagger against his skin with more pressure, causing Aegon to hiss in pain as his skin sliced open easily. He rolled his eyes as he let you go, pushing you off of him and onto the bed, Aemond quickly pulling his brother to him.

“I heard you took her maidenhead. I didn’t think you had it in you, brother.” Aegon smirked, even with the dagger to his throat.

“I will only say this once so you would do well to listen, brother. She is mine. Not yours, not anyone else’s. Mine, and only mine. Understand?” Aemond spoke lowly, his eye seemingly staring into Aegon’s soul.

Aegon frowned in annoyance as he held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. She’s all yours.” But Aemond kept his blade out and pointed at his brother until he was completely out the door, only sheathing it when the doors closed.

“Are you alright?” Aemond spoke, his back facing you.

You resisted the urge to ask why he suddenly cared. “Yes…thank you.”

He hummed. “I’ll be right outside your door tonight. Just in case he comes back.”

“You…” You hesitated, completely sure that this was a bad idea, but you couldn’t stop yourself. “You don’t have to. You can stay in here…if you’d like.” You cringed at how awkward you must’ve sounded, but if you did Aemond didn’t notice or care.

“How’s your eye?” He asked as he took a seat in one of your chairs, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable.

“Fine, it doesn't hurt anymore thankfully.” He nodded. The silence was deafening, and you didn’t know if you could handle it all night. But you didn’t know if that’s what he preferred. “Did I worry you much?” You joked, although it came out more serious than you intended. He didn’t look amused. You looked down to hide your frown, picking at your nails with a sigh. “Has there been any word from my mother?”

“No.” He responded curtly.

“What you told me the other night…I didn’t know any of that, how my mother treated you. I knew she didn’t have the best relationships with you all, or any at all. But I never thought she disliked any of you. She never spoke ill of you, she rarely spoke of you at all, so I guess I just assumed that nothing was wrong.” You shrugged. “She’s always been so loving, not just to me and my brothers, but everyone I’ve seen her interact with. You were right…I put her on a pedestal. I couldn’t see her faults. I’m…I’m sorry she treated you all that way. Siblings are supposed to look out for each other.”

Aemond’s expression was unreadable, like it often was. You looked away before you could embarrass yourself further.

“You shouldn’t apologize for the sins of your mother. Like I said before, it was her own doing. But now, she has the opportunity to make things right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” But Aemond only shook his head. You decided not to push him further. “Did you hope that I’d get pregnant?”

Aemond seemed shocked by your blunt question, but shrugged with a frown. “It would’ve made things easier perhaps. It would’ve forced my mother to marry us, and give Rhaenyra more incentive to bend the knee.”

You chuckled bitterly, shaking your head. “Do you want to marry me that badly?” You joked.

“Would it be so terrible?” He asked seriously, forcing you to actually think about it. “Or do you truly want your mother to kill us all? Do you want this war to happen?”

“No…of course not. I never wanted this to happen.” You exhaled shakily, finding it hard to relax under Aemond’s intense gaze. “If there’s even a chance anything could stop this war without bloodshed, I would do it.”

“Truly anything?”

You had a feeling where he was leading with that question, but you took the bait anyway. “Yes. Anything.” You tensed as Aemond lifted himself off his chair, taking a seat on the bed right beside you, his body heat radiating off of him and enveloping you. Goosebumps rose all over your body as he caressed the side of your face with the back of his hand, his eye gazing into yours. “Aemond-”

“Marry me.” He cupped your jaw, keeping you facing him. “You said you’d do anything. Your mother might give up if you agree. So, marry me, be my wife.”

“And if she doesn’t bend the knee?” You whispered.

“She will if she truly cares for you. Will you risk it?”

You took a deep breath, leaning forward to seal your fate with a kiss. “Yes. I’ll marry you…”

Aemond grinned before capturing your lips in another kiss, feeling his neediness and longing through him. You felt like a traitor yourself as you gave in to him, allowing yourself to want and need. Your mother would be so disappointed in you, but you truly thought it would be best for the kingdom and your family. You wondered if she’d actually bend the knee, or would she call you a traitor as well? You tried not to dwell on it. All you wanted right now was Aemond, to feel him all over your body, to feel him at the apex of your thighs that was already throbbing with desire.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Aemond pulled away with furrowed brows, wiping away your fallen tears with his thumb. “It’ll be okay.” He whispered, turning you on your back, settling himself in between your legs, keeping one arm propped up so he wouldn’t crush you. But that’s exactly what you wanted.

Aemond let out a noise of surprise when you pulled him down on you, his body completely covering you. Your heavy breaths mixed with each other, your kisses getting sloppy and rough. It wasn’t enough. Even when you had removed each other’s clothes, you still didn’t feel close enough.

You pushed Aemond’s head down your body, sighing heavily as he trailed kisses down your torso until he reached your pelvis, looking up at you hungrily through a heavy lidded eye. “Shall I taste you, princess?” He teased with a smile, spreading your legs as far as they could go and planting sloppy kisses on your inner thighs.

“Please, my prince.”

You whined as Aemond licked up your folds, gathering the wetness that had already pooled at your entrance. He took his time, slowly running his tongue through your slit over and over until you huffed with desperation. “You taste divine. I should’ve done this before. What a fool I was.” You moaned as he whirled the tip of his tongue in circles around your clit, gripping your hips to keep you from bucking against his mouth.

“Seven hells…” You gasped as he closed his lips around your sensitive nub to suckle on it while slowly pushing one of his fingers inside you, curling the digit rhythmically. “Aemond, fuck!” What a fucking traitor you were, delighting in the feeling of the enemy. But you couldn’t help it, the way he so expertly pleased you, being a traitor never felt so good.

Soon enough, Aemond added another finger, stretching you out preemptively, the lewd squelching sound coming from your cunt making your cheeks heat up like you had just stuck your face in an oven. But it was so erotic, even Aemond moaned at the sound, the vibration from his lips making you squeal softly. Though, it ended far too early in your opinion. You watched with parted lips as he came up for air, licking his slick coated lips with a smirk, crawling back up to kiss you hungrily.

You could feel his heavy cock poke at your entrance, making you clench in anticipation. Aemond didn’t even have to guide himself, he just slowly sank into you, both of you letting out loud gasps. He kept eye contact with you as he pushed in inch by inch, kissing all over your face whenever you winced or let out a soft cry, shushing you and trying to get you to relax around him. Even with foreplay, you didn’t know if you would ever get used to his size. But you were thankful he helped you adjust unlike last time. This time, he was sweet and attentive. You wondered where that side of him came from.

“Fuck…” Aemond groaned, finally bottoming out and stilling inside you. “You feel just as heavenly as the first time we lay together, beautiful.” You whimpered as the praise went straight to your core, making him hiss as you pulsed around him. “You can’t do that to me, princess. I want to take my time with you tonight.”

You let out a silent gasp as Aemond thrusted a couple times shallowly, trying to maintain his composure and be as gentle as possible until he settled into a slow but deep pace. You felt so full, his intense eye contact sending a shiver down your spine while the tip of his cock brushed up against that sweet spot inside you. He forced his arms underneath you, pulling you as close to him as possible, holding your back and pressing his chest against yours, like a horizontal hug. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, pulling him deeper as he placed soft kisses on your skin, then turning his head to face you and kissing your cheek.

Feeling his breaths fanning across the side of your face, you turned your head to look at him, unable to restrain yourself from kissing him. You moaned wantonly as he sped up his thrusts slightly, angling his hips so he could hit that spot inside you over and over again. It was so intimate, the close proximity and sensuality of it all. Too much and not enough, but you gave all control over to Aemond. You didn’t trust him, it would take a long time for you to be able to trust him, but something told you he wouldn’t hurt you, not again.

You felt your orgasm build up gradually, each thrust of Aemond’s hips bringing you closer and closer to the edge, but you both didn’t rush, he wasn’t allowing that. But it almost made it better. You weren’t foolish enough to call it romantic, nothing about you and Aemond’s relationship was romantic, not yet at least; but in different circumstances, you could say this was romantic love making. The way he was looking at you made butterflies swirl in your stomach, like you were the only woman in King’s Landing. You hated how special it made you feel.

Your heavy panting echoed throughout the room as Aemond lifted himself up to reach down between the two of you to rub your clit slowly, kissing you languidly and swallowing every single one of your moans. “That’s it…” He moaned. “Come for me, princess.” It didn’t take any more encouragement, you were already so close, able to obey him immediately. Your orgasm wasn’t overpowering; it was slow and gentle much like Aemond’s thrusts and fingers, but it still raised goosebumps all over your body and hardened your nipples as it washed over you, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

Aemond kept up that slow and deep pace, sucking and biting each of your nipples, eliciting an overstimulated whine from you. “My pretty girl…my beautiful girl.” He whispered, kissing your forehead as he sped up his thrusts, grabbing your wrists and pinning them beside your head. “Mine…mine.” You let out a cry as he rutted against you faster and faster, jolting your body with each thrust, but he silenced you by kissing you, keeping his lips pressed against yours until his thrusts become sloppy and erratic. Aemond let out a low groan as he stilled inside you, his eye rolled to the back of his head as he coated your walls with his cum. He collapsed on top of you with heavy panting breaths, kissing along your collarbone as he came down from his high. “Are you okay?” He asked softly.

“Yes, Aemond. That was…lovely.” You smiled in exhaustion, quietly giggling to yourself as he rolled off you and laid down against the bed dramatically. “Will you stay this time?”

“If you wish.”

“I do.”

“Then here I’ll remain.”

It was hard to keep you and Aemond apart after that night. He was more gentle and protective over you. It took some time getting used to his affection, but there came a point when you didn’t think about how you had to be with him out of duty, like you were just a pawn in this war game. You started to enjoy his company. It didn’t take much convincing to get Alicent to agree to marry you to Aemond, seeing his infatuation for you and how it might turn the tide in their favor.

You had to send a letter to your mother about your betrothal to your uncle, which terrified you. The word traitor echoing in your mind over and over again. You knew Daemon would not take it well, knowing him. But you prayed to the Seven that your mother would call off the war, for the sake of your family and the whole kingdom.

You almost couldn’t believe it when Aemond came to you with a huge grin on his face, informing you that your mother had bent the knee for the sake of the realm, accepting Aegon’s terms if only she could attend your wedding. She did not want to rule over ash and bone, she wouldn’t be a good ruler if she went to war, knowing there would be a limitless amount of casualties if she went through with going to war. She just wanted to see her daughter again.

A wave of relief washed over the entire Red Keep at the news, Alicent seeming even more overjoyed than you were.

The wedding would take place in a few days. You were excited for more than a few reasons. You would see your family again, Alicent having them come over by ship. And when you were a little girl, you always dreamed of having one of those fairytale weddings like most. It would be drastically different, but it excited you nonetheless. Aemond seemed to feel the same, relieved and overjoyed, but he only showed it when he was alone with you.

You finally felt at ease, like everything was going to work out.

Then came the night before the wedding, you felt the nerves flowing through your body. It had just now hit you that you were going to be marrying Aemond, in front of hundreds of people including your family. You weren’t one to get stage fright, but Seven Hells, you were frightened.

A knock on your door cut your thoughts short, calling out for whoever to enter your chambers. You relaxed when it was only Aemond, silently entering your room with a small smile. “I thought the groom wasn’t supposed to see the bride the night before the wedding.” You teased.

“I’m not superstitious.”

“No, you wouldn’t be. But, why have you come?”

“I have a gift for you. A wedding present.”

“Before the actual wedding?”

“Yes.” He chuckled, motioning for you to take a seat on the end of your bed. You waited with bated breath as he pulled out a small box, handing it to you tentatively. “Go on, open it.”

You carefully opened the little box, gasping at the contents inside. “Aemond…” You whispered, you looked at him in shock. It was a beautiful sapphire, very much resembling the one that replaced his own eye.

“The maesters said that your wound has healed enough that it could hold a gem comfortably. I chose the sapphire, but if you prefer something else, I can-”

“Aemond.” You interrupted him tearfully. “It’s beautiful. Perfect. I love it.”

“Only the best for you, my love.”

You never thought your life would end up this way. You never thought the situation you found yourself in would end happily, you thought it would end painfully and messy, but it didn’t. You were about to be married to someone you had grown to deeply care about. You were reunited with your family who supported you and loved you just the same as they had before. You finally felt that motherly love you had been craving these past couple months.

As the wedding finally started, everyone in the audience whispered amongst themselves as you walked in, your long flowing white dress dragging along the floor, and a bright blue sapphire in your empty eye socket. You and Aemond stood in front of each other with big smiles on your faces, looking at each other like you two were the only people in the room. You looked at your family, seeing their smiles of approval, making you feel at peace more than you ever have in your life.

After saying your vows, swearing to honor and cherish each other before the Seven, you both sealed the engagement with a passionate kiss. You pulled away as everyone clapped and cheered, each other’s sapphire’s shimmering in the light and reflecting off each other.

The two of you truly looked like you were made for each other.

I"M SUCH A SUCKER FOR A HAPPY ENDING I"M SORRY I COULDN"T HELP MYSELF

tag list: @drawing-kitty1, @candypurplebutterfly, @siriusdumblittlepuppy, @chromesunbeams

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x f!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader

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winterwitch-trash · 5 months

Text

“Never mess with a Mafia Lord.”

Author's Note: Well, here it is. Must be the longest actual smut I've written on this blog. Hopefully, my scenes are not too cringey. My very first attempt at Mafia!Bucky and I hope you all enjoy it.

Summary: Bucky Barnes has got eyes only for his queen. But what happens when she takes it too far in front of his men?

(Word Count: 1935 words)

Warnings: Mature Themes, Minors DO NOT INTERACT, dom!Bucky, edging, no use of y/n, lots of teasing, dirty talk

She knew better than to question him. When he wanted to treat her nice… He went all out, whatever that entailed, from quiet nights to extravagant dinner dates at the restaurant overlooking New York which ended up with the two rolling around in bed, where he made sure to have her shaking with desire. Sometimes, the fearsome mob boss would be the one who surrendered to her seduction; he was only willing to submit to her. But sometimes he wasn’t feeling that merciful. Take tonight for example. He was in the middle of an important meeting, and she was acting like a brat. While he actually liked it when she was like that, right now he found it irritating. The rest of the mafia bosses were exchanging looks of amusement, thinking that the girl was actually cute, acting like that. But for Barnes, it was distracting. And she did nothing to help. Yes, she was being quiet, so she wouldn’t make it more awkward for him, but the way her nimble hands found their way onto his shoulders caused him to feel a certain way, suddenly eager to conclude the meeting and drag her to their bedroom. And that’s how she knew she had accomplished her mission, which was to get his mind completely distracted.

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen... I will have to overlook dinner for a while, but it was nice seeing you all..” She mused, leaning down, brushing her lips against Bucky’s stubble, in that tantalizing way she knew made him yearn for more.

Oh, she was in for it, Bucky thought. Once the meeting was concluded, he made his way into their bedroom, where he found her, laying on the king-sized bed, clad in only a dark red set of lingerie, eyeing him with sheer anticipation and it made his brain short circuit. She was indeed a vision; yet, he couldn’t let go of the little stunt she pulled in his office in front of everyone. “I asked one simple thing… No interruptions baby girl…” He growled, fumbling with his tie. To this, she only giggled teasingly. “Not my fault I am married to the hottest mob boss in New York... I was bored without you…” She then pouted, motioning for him to join her in bed. The next thing she knew, was that she was being pinned down, hands above her head, and Bucky towering over her smaller frame, drinking her in. “I was going to be generous tonight but after what you did… I think you need to be punished…” Came his response, and she blinked innocently. Punishment? That was new for her. But it made the game all the more exciting. Before she was able to get a word out, his lips found her own for a few fleeting moments. “So much for punishing me… All words from the big bad mafia boss..” She teased, wanting to get to the main event faster. Mouthing off was the way to go when she was in the mood. And quite frankly, he loved it too. “Don’t be a smart mouth.” He snapped, deciding to bind her hands over the bedpost. “You’ve been a brat all day and I’m tired of your games..” He smirked nudging her knees apart. “So here is what’s going to happen. I am going to spank you five times, and if you’re a good girl, maybe I will allow you to come…” He announced, his blue eyes darkening as he watched her squirming slightly. She obviously had no idea what he was about to do…

Her heart was thundering against her chest, like a deer that had been caught in the wolf’s den. Bucky was eyeing her like a predator, ready to pounce on her, and it only served to grow the excitement within her. This man had a unique talent of igniting her whole body on fire with just one word, or a mere look. This is what they both enjoyed the most. The teasing remarks, the intimate touches, the kisses shared; Bucky may be rough time and time again, but every time he made sure she was comfortable. If anything, he likes to ensure that she will enjoy this as much as he will. “Hmmm… Are you going to punish me? Or do I have to take matters into my own hands… daddy?” She smirked suddenly turning the tables on him.

So much for her innocent act, Bucky thought, clearly taken aback by how fast she flipped positions.

“Keep calling me that, and I’ll make sure you won’t be able to walk for a week…” He growled, drawing a giggle out of her. “You think you’re in the positions to make threats? Darlin’, you’ve been nothing but words so far..” She taunted, slowly reaching behind her back to unclasp the straps, giving him a little show. Bucky decided to lean up to brush his lips against hers but she stopped him abruptly, pushing him back into the mattress, a devious glint flashing in her eyes, nails scratching along his muscled chest. “Who says I’m afraid of the big bad Mafia boss?” Again, she couldn’t help the bratty attitude. She wanted to coax some kind of reaction out of him. And judging by how he was trying to keep his cool around her, she could see that her actions were getting to him. “See? I knew it. All words, baby..” She finally purred, gently suckling at his earlobe.

Oh, he wouldn’t let that slide. He loved the allure she exhibited, but she needed to be reminded of her place. And there was the wild side she loved so much. “I think someone needs to be reminded of their place..” Bucky growled flipping positions once again, her back exposed to his hungry stare. “Now. As I promised.” He grinned innocently, swatting at her rear, eliciting one of those delicious moans that spurred him on. “Count.” He snapped swatting at her backside. “Mm.. I’ve been a bad girl…” She whispered, grinding against his crotch, wishing to create some friction between them. “Oh, you’ve been a bad girl now, have you?” He taunted, caressing her buttocks before delivering another spank, drawing a breathless giggle out of her. All this foreplay was killing her though. “I said… count!” he snapped spanking her once again, the sound bouncing off the walls of the spacious master bedroom. “Bucky pl—Three!” she whined, grinding against him more urgently. But her desperate pleas fell on deaf ears as he continued punishing her. “That’s what you get for pulling stunts like that baby girl…” He stated, squeezing her cheeks before delivering more spanks, rendering the supple flesh red. “Oh please, you liked it—FUCK!” Damn. Her smart mouth was turning him on even more, and he felt he would combust at any point.

At this point she was a blubbering mess, moaning, bucking hips against his member, as he eased up momentarily on her punishment, to reward her with a surprisingly gentle kiss, a stark contrast from his dominating persona. “You’re right… I did like it… But it took everything in me not to bend you over and take you right there and then while everyone watching.” His admission made her wetter if that was even possible. “God… I need you… please…!” She begged once more bucking against his shaft. And who was he to say no when she looked so beautiful begging?

“Hmm. Since you’re begging like this… Who am I to refuse you?”

And with that, he slipped inside her wet heat, an appreciative growl leaving his throat, as he set a steady pace, driving himself in and out of her, stopping occasionally to whisper all the ways he would make her come undone. “Make me scream and I will make sure to repay the favor…” She mused, letting out the most obscene sound. Man, she was temptation personified. Her words held so many promises and it made him tense up in anticipation. But he wouldn’t give it to her so easy. Just as she was about to come, he stopped his ministrations abruptly, making her look up at him in disbelief. Was he serious right now? She was so close and he decided to slip out of her now?!

“Barnes… I swear if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to scream…” She snapped, desperate, her core clenching around nothing. Oh, there was the bratty attitude again…

“Who said you can demand things? Mm?” He growled pinning her hands over her head, lips dangerously close to her own but he didn’t actually kiss her. But who was he kidding? He was dying for a taste… So without further delay, he began leaving dark bruises all the way down to her abdomen, marking her, as he inched close to the spot she needed him the most. “This is all for me sweetheart?” He asked, a taunting lilt lacing his voice before he dove in, sucking and biting gently at her folds, smirking at the pornographic moan that left her lips. “Don’t you dare cum just yet.. You hear me?” He ordered. He couldn’t help it though. He had a tendency of being a little shit while in bed generally…

However, after what felt like hours of endless teasing, he decided to be merciful and give her what she desperately needed. “I think you learned your lesson doll, didn’t you?” He teased, placing a featherlight kiss to her mouth as he placed her on top of him. “Go on.. Make a mess all over me…” He urged her, as she began bouncing on him slowly at the beginning but then she picked up her pace, until they both hit that euphoric state. “Shit! I’m going to come…” She keened, almost sure that the staff in the mansion would be able to hear them with how loud they were… “Fuck… Let go baby! I’m right there with you...” James’s voice came out quite strained, due to the onslaught of pleasure that crashed over their exhausted bodies. At the end of this debauchery, they both felt sated. “I think I’ll act like a brat more often if it makes you treat me like this…” She joked settling down beside him, a goofy grin playing on her face. “Just don’t make it a habit in front of my men…” He teased in response, not missing the pout on her face. “Then don’t neglect me next time..” Came her witty remark, making him laugh out loud. “Oh, that’s how it is?” He trailed off between chuckles as they shared yet another slow, fervent kiss, watching the sunrise from their window. “I love you.” She mumbled cupping his stubbled cheeks. Sweet gestures like that always made the tough mobster melt in her embrace. Everyone in New York knew of his ruthless side, but she was the only one that got to see a softer side. “I love you too doll… To the moon and back.” He whispered, watching as her warm brown eyes drifted shut. She was exhausted after all… And since he had no urgent matters that needed attention, he chose to take it slow and rest.

Well, rest was a matter of perspective. In this line of work, there was no taking it easy. But right now, he didn’t want any dark thoughts to ruin this perfect morning, so he decided to finally surrender to a sleep filled with pleasant dreams.

Meanwhile, the head of the rival Mob, Brock Rumlow was devising a strategy to overthrow Barnes. And he knew exactly what to do. Or rather who to hunt.

@world-of-aus Hope you like it. And yes. I finished with a cliffhanger. Do I regret it? Absolutely not. Mwahahaha

#bucky barnes #my writing #fanfiction #mafia!au #oneshot #maybe a series?

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theblueskyphoenix · 1 year

Photo

Hi and welcome to a huge backlog of sketches and concept art I’ve have on the computer for awhile that I decided to finally post in one big sketch dump.

So I have fun little thing known as Court of the King where each of the protagonists get to interact with each other through magic reasons. In this said thing, most of the protagonists have grown up and some even have families. With all this in mind, let’s get on with explaining Fusion King Judai.

Judai at this point in his life has been able to move on from what happened during the events of GX. Took a bit of soul searching and therapy but he’s a lot happier now and is content with himself. So much so, he’s now actually teaching others how to duel at his own little set up known as the Duel Lodge. A place for others like him that are Duel Spirit sensitive or are kind of out casts. All are welcome at his humble abode.

Another thing he has worked out is his relationship with Yubel. The two are pretty chill with each other and are a pretty good team now. Yubel can even shift forms now at will. Comes in handy with not scaring people off, and blending in better. Bottom line, Yubel is more chill now and only really starts to get unhinged if you try to harm Judai or his family.

Speaking of, another thing Judai has got going for him is his family. After his long journey of soul searching, Judai returned to reunite with his friends to mend some fences... and with Asuka in particular, rekindle a relationship. Which eventually bloomed into a proper romance to eventually marrying her. Leading to them have their two sons, Kichiro Yuki and Raiden Yuki.

As far as Judai is concerned, his life going pretty good for him. He went through a lot but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And that’s basically all there is to it for Fusion King. Now as for what we see here.

Concept art for his final draft and initial draft as Fusion King. First try I wasn’t too pleased with. Felt it wasn’t really flowing all the well design wise. So tried again and well, much happier with him having a longer coat. A nice blend of Supreme King and his old school jacket. Really wanted to show how he basically came to terms with everything.

Supreme King slight redesign. Nothing major just minor tweaks. Mainly changing the helmet design and re-arranging some of the spikes. Judai can actually take this form if he wishes but it’s rare that he does.

Asuka concept art. Blend of her look from ARC-V and her GX design. She’s a teacher at the academy so gotta look the part.

We got the Yuki boys, Kichiro and Raiden. Both are adorable and precious. Kichiro has his dad’s old jacket and wears it proudly. Raiden isn’t really looking to duel, he’s more into soccer so hence the soccer get up. He’s still a good boy.

Spooky, who is Kichiro’s Duel Spirit companion. He’s a spooky moth kuribo and he wants candy!

Yubel’s different forms. As stated above Yubel has chilled out so it has allowed some new abilities to come through. Especially for not scaring the boys. (Which Yubel is uber protect of.)

Judai, Yubel and Pharaoh while they were still traveling. (Back before I redesigned Judai so we have the old design of Fusion King.)

Johan, Cho and Hayato as adults. Johan also did some traveling like Judai but has since settled down and is a pro-duelist. (He has a family of his own to tend too.) Cho and Hayato both work for Industrial Illusion. Cho making model kits of monsters and Hayato being a lead artist of duel monster cards.

Line of the Yuki family all together, ages and heights included.

And to close out, a sweet little doodle of Judai holding a baby Kichiro.

And that’s it. =D Hope you all enjoy.

Now I need to work on my other info dumps for this Court of the Kings thing.

Stay tuned.

#Court of the Kings #Fusion King #Judai Yuki #Asuka Tenjoin #Fiance Shipping #Kichiro Yuki #Raiden Yuki #Yubel #Supreme King #Johan Andersen #Cho Marufuji #Hayato Maeda #Yu-Gi-Oh GX #Yu-Gi-Oh!#YGO GX

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librosamarillos · 1 year

Text

passed down like folk songs

chapter 7: it would've been you

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

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

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

Let the angst begin besties! <3

“What?!” Ceryse asked in pure shock.

When her handmaidens ran into her chambers to rush her to her father’s solar, this was the last thing she was expecting to hear. She assumed something horrible had happened and technically, it had, just not in the way she was expecting. Her brothers were quiet, both looking at their father, deep in thought.

“Your uncle had suggested it, the King himself accepted and requested the wedding take place as soon as possible.”

“Why would he suggest marrying me into that family? With those people? When was I going to be told?” she asked, trying to wrap her head around what was happening.

“Marrying into the royal family, you will live like a princess. You’ll want for nothing.”

“I don’t want to leave Oldtown. I’ll be in King’s Landing all alone! You said it yourself, the Targaryens cannot be trusted. And the Prince? Surely you’ve heard what they say of him. You want me wed to that supposed brute?” she asked, looking to her brothers for support.

“It is a smart move, but you plan to leave our sister alone there? Surrounded by dragons?” her younger brother, Morgan spoke up.

“It would be foolish for them to mistreat her. The whole point of this union is Oldtown’s alliance. They’re not dumb.” their father countered. He turned to her, approaching her. “Ceryse, I know this is less than ideal, but we are not in a position to reject this proposal. You are six and twenty, my dear. You’ve turned down every lord who’s asked for your hand so far, it’s time you married and settled down. You’ll marry into the most powerful family in Westeros, your children shall have dragons.” he added.

Ceryse thought for a moment. She found the idea even more dreadful the more she let it sink in. If she had it her way, she’d remain in the Hightower for the rest of her days, surrounded by the people that loved her, not by strangers that she didn’t trust.

What were the Targaryens, other than invaders? Coming to their land, forcing their people to yield or die a most painful death? And now she’d have to marry into their family? When had they let an outsider marry in anyway? Alysanne was a cousin, that was as far as they were willing to go, since the Queens had no daughters. Just the thought disgusted her. Truly, how could they bed their own brother? And would her own children have to marry each other? Surely her uncle wouldn’t allow it, but would they even care to listen when they could burn them all to the ground? She shuddered.

It was a smart move on their part, she had to admit. Her uncle and the faith were the Targaryen’s biggest problem, so a union would bring them all on their side. She just hated that it had to be her. She adored her family, her city, her friends, and now she’d be shipped off to the capital that she hated.

Ceryse remembered when the King visited Oldtown with his sister, Queen Rhaenys. She was young, but she immediately didn’t like them, as open a mind as she tried to keep. Aegon had this air of assured righteousness, as if he was owed their land and their support, and Rhaenys took a supposed interest in their culture. She clearly put up a front, Ceryse knew. It wasn’t her first time in a court, there were many like her that pretended to care for others, wanting to appear kindhearted. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but the Queen treated them like one would treat a child who was babbling. Like she was above them, giggling at their ways and thoughts. She couldn’t stand it. She felt guilty to be glad she was no longer here.

She had only seen Queen Visenya once, from afar. It scared her, that it was her son she’d be marrying. Both their reputations were cold and ruthless. Visenya was the most feared out of her siblings, and for good reason. Supposedly Prince Maegor was a brutal man, a knight at six and ten, the blood of many on his hands, something he had enjoyed, or so she heard. If the rumours were true, he was nothing like the charismatic and kind Aenys, quite the opposite. Gods, how could she be optimistic about this union? It was her duty, she knew, but she had always hoped her duty could be near her home, far away from dragons. The gods had other plans, it seemed.

“I still don’t trust them, father. Even if they don’t mistreat her, Ceryse will have to spend the rest of her days with that man and his family. Do you trust them with our sister’s life?” her eldest brother, Martyn argued.

Their father was silent for a moment. Very few times could she remember seeing him look this defeated. He looked at them all, eyes landing finally on Ceryse, before he spoke again.

“I do not. But I’m afraid we have no choice. Your uncle made the suggestion without consulting me, if we step back now, it will only make the situation between the crown and the faith worse. We cannot risk our house like this.” he explained, grasping her hands. “I don’t want to send you away to them, believe me, my daughter. If I had it my way, I’d find you a match here, close to us. I fear it’s too late for that. I do not trust the Targaryens, but I do trust you. It’ll be difficult, but I know if anyone could navigate it, it would be you, Ceryse.”

Her father, Lord Manfred Hightower, was a pragmatic man. He had the gift of assessing a situation and putting his feelings to the side in order to make a decision with the most favourable results. This time, he was having a hard time doing so. She knew why. They had lost their mother not even a year ago, the pain of her loss still looming large on their family, and now he was losing his daughter. Although quite formal, they were always close. It was hard to picture her life without having her father and brothers so close by. She had recently become an aunt, and she adored her nephew and good sister. It was so unfair she’d have to leave it all behind.

“I understand father. I’ll… I’ll prepare for the trip.” she nodded, and her father pressed a kiss on her forehead. Nobody in that room wanted to leave.

“You hate this.” Martyn stated, entering her chambers.

Ceryse was throwing dresses for the trip on her bed, trying to decide on what to wear. If she was going to be forced into that family, at least she was going to look good while doing it. She turned to face her brother, who had his arms crossed.

“Of course I do. But what’s done is done, I might as well not drag my feet. It would only make me twice as miserable.” she answered, biting the inside of her cheek. “Besides, the rumours could be greatly exaggerated. At least I hope they are.”

Martyn looked down.

“I wish I could go with you.” he sighed.

“You need to be here. To be acting Lord of the Hightower. If what I heard the maids whisper is true, uncle will insist we marry here, in the Starry sept. If the King wishes for us to marry quickly, I’ll be back soon.” she countered. “Does that not sound suspicious to you?” she asked.

“Hm?” Martyn looked up at her.

“That he wishes for us to marry as soon as possible.” Ceryse mused. “He’s trying to rush our union, is it not strange that the King is doing so? It should be the other way around, for a house to push for the union with a Prince. I think the King is hiding something.” she said, eyeing her brother.

“Perhaps he’s trying to save his son from scandal. That, or he’s very eager to mend relations with the faith before he gets too old to govern.” he answered thoughtfully.

It was silent for a while. Ceryse didn’t want to worry her family any more than they already were, but she was truly afraid of what she was getting into. Martyn seemed to sense it, wrapping her in his embrace, silently sharing her sorrow.

“Please be careful. The dragons can be unpredictable, dangerous. Warm up to the Prince, you’ll at least be safe.” he pleaded, before pulling away. How she’d miss him.

“Morgan and uncle will join us to King’s Landing. They’ll… keep me safe.” she said, trying to convince herself that her brother and uncle could stand a chance against dragonfire.

The Hightowers had the advantage of politics and cultural influence; they'd be a great tool for House Targaryen to show that they were joining Westerosi culture and traditions, but dragons were volatile. Who’s to say they wouldn’t burn them to the crisp if they were displeased? Sure, now they are playing politicians, but what if they go back to how they were? Bathing the kingdoms in fire and blood? Ceryse could only put on a brave face and do her best to survive.

Court was summoned in the throne room, leaving everyone to whisper in anticipation about what this could be for. Grandmaester Gawen had informed Rowan, and everyone else in the library at the time, of the sudden announcement the King and Queen wanted to make. He seemed in good spirits, making her assume the King would announce a new project for the city.

In the throne room, she quickly spotted her father, who also appeared to be looking for her, greeting her with a smile. Her eyes found the royal family, all standing in front of the throne, whereas the King and Queen stood atop. Rowan studied them for a moment. The King appeared happy, no, satisfied. Visenya on the other hand was nervous. As much as she resented Aegon for all the pain he caused Visenya, she had to admit, they looked good together as a couple. To those who didn’t know her, she appeared stoic and confident, but she knew better than that. She noticed she always clenched her jaw a specific way when she was trying to calm her nerves. Had they argued? Perhaps the King had chosen to do something Visenya disagreed with? She was sure she’d tell her about it eventually.

Maegor stood next to Aenys on the base of the throne, looking like a million things were on his mind. Rowan was worried now. As if feeling her eyes on him, he only returned a tiny glance, before looking straight ahead. He looked guilty. Any excitement she felt before had now faded away. She tried to not let her mind assume the worst, but it was too late.

“I have happy news this afternoon. It is with great joy that I announce the betrothal of Prince Maegor to the Lady Ceryse Hightower. The High Septon himself will join House Hightower in court within a fortnight to discuss the details for the grand ceremony.” Aegon’s voice boomed in the room, causing the lords and ladies to cheer, offering congratulations to the Prince.

Rowan felt the room shatter around her. For a moment, she couldn’t hear anything but her own racing heart. For a second, she thought she saw Visenya give her an apologetic glance, but she couldn’t be sure. She quickly snapped out of it, trying to replace her broken expression with a smile to match everyone else’s. Not until her father grabbed her hand, did she notice she was clenching her fists so hard, her nails had drawn blood on her palms. She watched the people around her, not fully registering what was happening.

She didn’t know how long she was standing there, still as a statue, until court was dismissed. She felt her father pull her away, heading straight to her chambers. It took her a few minutes to truly understand what was happening, to understand Maegor would not be hers. Her father was talking to her, but her ears were ringing. Realising his words were not getting through to her, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

In her father’s arms she felt the first few tears drop. And then she wept. She wept and wept until she couldn’t breathe. She mourned the future she let herself dream of with Maegor, she mourned their little family she imagined nightly, she mourned for all the love she had for him that she knew would never fade away, she mourned for herself that would have to watch him from afar as he married another and had a life with her, all in front of her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, darling.” her father whispered, rubbing her back to try and soothe her. “Just let it all out.”

By the time Rowan stopped crying, it was nighttime. Had she truly spent the entire afternoon there, crying? Her father had offered her some water, his face riddled with concern. Water was a welcome and calming thing, helping to bring her back to reality. She made her way to the vanity, splashing her face with the water in the bowl, her hands lingering on her cheeks. Her palms were stinging, the half moon indentations still red. How had she not realised how much it hurt before? She looked up at her father, who still looked at her with sorrow.

“Did you know?” she asked softly.

“No, the Queen hadn’t informed me of this, or hinted at anything.” his voice was soft, calming.

Rowan nodded, before walking to the small table and pouring herself another glass of much needed cold water. She drank it and sat down, her expression empty. Her father took both of her hands into his own.

“My love, please do not take this the wrong way, but I must know. Did he… do anything to you? Has something happened?” he asked, his voice heavy with worry.

“No, no father. It’s just…” she trailed, her voice still hoarse, “we kissed, the night of the feast at home, but nothing more. He told me he wished to ask the King to have us wed, but…” she felt herself tear up again, shaking her head.

Her father let out a sigh of relief, before making his way right next to her to wrap his arms around her once more, his warmth soothing the ache in her chest just a bit. Rowan never imagined heartbreak to feel so literal, that her heart was indeed being torn to shreds. How was she to feel normal ever again?

“I’m sorry my girl, I know it feels awful. I wish things were different, but the situation could not be helped. Not with so much involved.” he whispered.

“I know.” she whispered back, wrapping her arms around him as well. “I let myself believe that things would be a bit different, but I suppose I was foolish to do so.”

“My love, you’re no fool for loving someone and hoping. It’s just that life can be cruel sometimes.” he said, patting her hair.

“I know… It could not be helped.” she whispered. “I just wish to go to bed. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Nonsense. I’ll always be here, no matter how small or big you think a problem is. I’ll leave you to rest. Would you break fast with me in the morning?” he asked.

Rowan nodded and he placed a small kiss on her forehead, wishing her a good night. She felt like her body moved on its own as she undressed to wear her nightgown and undid the braids from her hair. She laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, her heart still aching.

How could she not foresee this happening? It was the only logical thing to happen, that he married for advantage, as the Targaryen rule was still too new, in need of solid allies from great houses. Ceryse, she remembered her. They had been introduced at a great feast in Highgarden, as their fathers were friends as boys. She was great company and Rowan recalled she had the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen. She would make a lovely bride, she was sure of that. It didn’t stop her heart from feeling like it was being stabbed a million times at the thought.

How was she to face Maegor ever again? She felt that looking into his eyes would end her, that it would be too much. Like it would tear her apart to even hear his voice and be near him, but all she wanted to do was run to him regardless. What was she to do? Abandon her studies in King’s Landing and hide away in the Citadel? The more she thought of it, the idea was growing on her. To run away.

Her fingers traced the cuts on her palms, as she wondered how the discussion went. Had Maegor fought for them at all? Did he try, or did he accept his King’s commands at once? Had Visneya tried to sway him? The questions were eating her alive, she was unsure how she’d find any sleep at all.

Did she regret it, kissing him that night? Knowing what a euphoric feeling it was, to feel so close and connected to someone, how his stubble tickled her face, how she loved the way he held her, how she felt her heart jump and race at how he looked at her. Gods, she didn’t even want to look at anyone else but him. She blushed at the memory of his firm hands pulling her so close to him, she could think of nothing else since then.

But he was no longer hers, he never was. Someone else would have him all to herself and it made her burn with jealousy, before the guilt hit her. It wasn’t Ceryse’s fault that Rowan went and fell in love, like an idiot- had she ever admitted that before? Love, she never said the word out loud. But she knew, she always knew she loved Maegor. And in that moment, she hated herself for it, for she knew she’d never stop.

Maegor wanted to scream. He wanted to rage, to break everything and anything in his wake, to march into battle and kill. But he had to sit in the small council meeting regarding the possible expenses of his upcoming wedding. Aenys was casting him sympathetic glances throughout the whole thing, but Maegor kept his face blank, save for the light frown that was always present. His father went back to normal, in not paying much attention to him, which normally filled him with unspeakable anger, but right then he was glad, for he knew he’d get told off for appearing like he had murder in his eyes during talk of his wedding. His mother was unreadable. She didn’t speak much, only asking for specifics in their budget, seemingly satisfied at the reminder of the Hightower’s wealth and thus their grand contribution.

The only thing on his mind was Rowan. Just the thought of her made him want to scream again. He only caught a glimpse of her face, how hurt and absolutely destroyed she looked, before putting on a smile to not raise suspicion. He wanted to run to her, to hold her, to tell her it was her he loved and her alone, to apologise a million times. She had told him years ago that she worried about things outside of their control, and like a fool he thought he could control his father’s decision. He felt like the biggest traitor in the world.

“Maegor, did you hear me?” Aenys’ soft voice made him turn.

Maegor blinked. The room was empty, leaving only him and his half-brother there. When did he stop listening and when did all of them leave? Aenys walked close to him, awkwardly placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I was nervous too, when I was first betrothed.” he offered another kind smile.

Maegor only hummed, not wanting to humour his half-brother, but not wanting to raise suspicion of his true feelings either. He wasn’t nervous, he was angry this was even happening. He was angry about many things, but this anger was a different beast.

“Lady Ceryse is lovely, I’ve met her many times in the progresses in Oldtown, I think you’ll grow quite fond of her.” Aenys said.

The thought of ever growing fond of anyone else felt like a sin so great, the gods he didn’t even believe in would strike him down where he stood.

“I see.” he managed to spit out.

“You know, even if things are awkward in the beginning, you two will grow close when you have children. I know it was true for me and Alyssa.” he offered his advice, before stepping back, as if he could feel the rage seeth out of Maegor.

He wanted once again to march into some battle for the kill. He had longed for fatherhood for a long time, but only with Rowan at his side, no one else. And now what he longed for would never be, it couldn’t. Would he even be able to look at his children if they weren’t Rowan’s, or would he treat them like his father treated him? He knew she’d hate him if he did.

He gulped. Did she hate him now? Would she slap him, yell at him, call him a coward? He didn’t think Rowan was even capable of such anger, but he wished she could. He felt he’d deserve everything she’d throw at him. Anything but her tear soaked face. That would send him into a spiral he’d never get out of. He promised himself he’d protect her from any harm, but now the pain was his fault.

“Maegor?” Aenys’ face showed concern as he looked up at him.

“Thank you for the advice. I shall keep it in mind.” he somehow managed to sound somewhat grateful, before turning to leave.

He had to find her.

After escaping his chambers unnoticed, he managed to go unseen in the dark of the night. He was always vigilant, his eyes noticing everything at all times, including what times the servants went to bed, leaving the halls empty. He found himself at Rowan’s door, a lump in his throat, feeling for a moment that he couldn’t move, that he wanted to run away like a boy. But he had to see her, he needed to. So he knocked, and entered as soon as he heard a confused ‘yes?’.

She was sitting on the desk, writing a letter, her eyes wide in surprise when she saw him enter. For what felt like forever, neither spoke. She played with her fingers as she rose, the way she always did when she was nervous.

“I’m so sorry.” he managed to find his voice.

Rowan only nodded, the sorrow in her eyes being answer enough. Maegor walked close to her, close enough to hold her hands.

“I tried to reason with him, truly. He and mother had a fight about it too. He had already accepted on my behalf, I swear it, I would never have accepted if I was given the chance.” his voice trembled as his eyes burned looking down at her own broken face.

“I understand, it is your duty. You cannot run from it.” she said softly, a frown on her face.

He hated it. He hated seeing her so sad, so defeated and not being able to fix it.

“Lady Ceryse is a fine woman, she’ll make a lovely bride and wife to you.” she managed a pained smile, as tears slipped from her eyes.

“Please don’t. Don’t say that. I don’t want anyone else but you. All I want is you.” he pleaded, tears beginning to stream down his own face, but unlike the hot angry ones he shed in her arms as a boy, but desperate and miserable ones.

Rowan shook her head.

“But that’s not the reality of things, no matter how much I hate that it is not. What’s done is done, we cannot be.” her own voice was hoarse from crying. “You have a duty to your house, to your family, to your wife. As much as it pains me, you were never mine to lose, Maegor.” she shook her head again.

Maegor felt himself torn apart. How much had she wept for her voice to be so strained, for her eyes to be so puffy? How he hated himself at that moment. He hated feeling powerless more than anything.

“It should’ve been you. It would’ve been you, had he only listened to me.” he frowned.

“He was thinking like a King should. It’s no one’s fault. Life is unfair at times.” she breathed, closing her eyes for a moment.

They fell in silence again, gripping at each other’s hands. Rowan looked to the ground, like looking at him pained her. But Maegor’s eyes were pleading for her to do just that, to look at him. He felt the back of her hand with his thumb, before sensing her stiffening up. He turned her hands to look at them, his eyes widening at the fresh scars caused by her own nails. She tried to pull away in shame, but he held on. She always picked on the skin around her fingers when her anxiety was too much, she was always ashamed of it when he noticed.

“Rowan…” he whispered, his concerned voice making her shake her head again.

“It’s nothing. Really.” she finally looked at him with her puffy green eyes. “You really shouldn’t be here. If someone were to see you-”

“No one saw me.”

Another moment of silence.

“The wedding, it will be in Oldtown, won’t it?” she asked.

He hated it. He hated how pragmatic she was, how calm and thoughtful. He wanted her to yell at him, to scream, to throw things at him. All that he would deserve. Her calmness, he did not feel worthy of. He nodded.

“I’ll return home, but we’ll come to the ceremony, father and I.” she said.

“What?” he asked, panic suddenly taking over. “You’re leaving? But- When will I see you again? Rowan you cannot leave. What of your studies, or- or helping your father? Please, you cannot leave, I cannot bear not seeing you.” he pleaded.

“Do you think I can bear to see you with another? Everyday? Do you not think it would drive me mad? How could we ever go back to normal if I stay?” she pleaded right back.

Maegor was speechless. He felt like the biggest asshole there ever was for asking her to stay. Every part of this conversation hurt, but the reality that she wouldn’t be here with him half the year, like she always did, sliced his heart apart.

“I hate that I’ll leave, believe me, I do. But we cannot- we can’t, it’s not fair. It’s not fair to you, to me or to Ceryse. Please… you have to go. The hour is late.” she pleaded one last time, her voice still trembling as she pulled her hands out of his grasp to wipe her tears and take a step back.

It felt final, too final. He knew she was right, he hated that she was. But soon the guards would change shifts, he had to leave, even though everything in him was yelling at him to stay. He looked at her again, wishing to fall into her arms and weep.

“Rowan… I lo-”

“Please don’t say it.” she begged, holding back a sob.

taglist:@heartstalked@stupidocupido@discowizard88 @slytherisstuff

#maegor targaryen x oc #maegor the cruel #ceryse hightower #maegor targaryen #folklore girlies rise

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therandomavenger · 11 months

Text

What Pride Means to Me

Step into the wayback machine with me for a moment.

The year is 1995. It’s the middle of summer. I am sitting in a movie theater with my best friend, Jennie, and we are watching one of the most popular films of that year, Mel Gibson’s Braveheart. <I thought you were going to write about Pride, you say? Give me a moment.>

Now, this is an entertaining film, made with obvious passion. It has a moving story and great performances. Its main villain is the English King, Edward I, played by Patrick McGoohan. Amidst all the major and minor characters is the character of Edward’s son, Prince Edward. As a prince, he’s not living up to his father’s expectations. And, though it’s ever really stated on screen, one of the reasons for this is he’s always in the company of his best friend, who is obviously also his gay lover.

The prince and his lover are mewling and foppish, presented without any redeeming qualities. The lover encourages the prince to stick up for himself against his father, and this all comes to a head in one scene in the middle of the film, where Edward is commanding the prince to do something, the prince protests, the lover says something cutting to the king, and the King grabs the lover and throws him out of the nearest window, to his death.

In the film, this moment is played entirely for laughs. And it got a big laugh from the audience I was sitting in. And in all the commentary this film has garnered over the years, I’ve not seen one other person mention this scene, let alone how problematic it is.

Now, clearly Edward II is the villain in this movie. It’s not like the main hero did this. But still, it doesn’t even seem to be added by the narrative to the list of Edward’s crimes. Indeed, the audience sympathizes with his frustration, and supports this casual murder. The prince is given very little further space in the story, merely doing what his father wants the rest of the film, his trauma unremarked upon.

I think I even laughed at this scene the first time that I saw it, because it’s presented as a moment of physical comedy. But I’ve thought about this scene a lot over the years, obviously, since it’s coming up in a blog post 28 years later.

This kind of thing was common in the 90’s. If gay people existed in media at all, we were disposable. The first victims of a murderer. Films that explored our lives focused mainly on the traumatic parts, and usually had one or more characters dying of AIDS (Philadelphia, I’m looking at you).

Now, I am including myself in that group now, but back then I would not have. While I was aware that I was attracted to guys, I kind of buried that deep within myself, sealing it up in a box that I did not dare open. It was my most shameful secret, one that I’d die to keep. And is it any wonder I didn’t want any part of it, given the examples I was seeing? I had no vision of happy gay people, living their truth. Now, I am aware that they existed. There have been gay writers and filmmakers putting out work for a long time. I’m not saying they didn’t exist. But they did not have a large audience or any kind of promotional budget and I, living in a small town in Indiana, was not aware of them.

I think the first example of a non-traumatized gay character I came across was Matt in Melrose Place. And while Matt was canonically gay, and allowed to have a romantic life on screen, he was forced by the network sensors to say goodnight to every one of his dates with a firm handshake. So, it was technically representation, but was it really …?

I had never heard of Pride month back then, and I wouldn’t have done anything about it if I had. I didn’t say the words, “I am gay” to myself until I was 32. And it would take another 14 years for me to say it to another person.

So, Pride … I think I became aware of Pride around the time the gay marriage supreme court case went through. Now, I was out to myself at the time, but so deep in the closet that I could see Narnia. I was married to a woman and raising my children, and I thought ‘I might be gay, but it doesn’t mean anything because this is the life I chose for myself, and it would hurt too many people to disrupt.’ But when that decision came down, I felt so much joy. I knew why but didn’t say this to anyone. Because I knew it meant that someday, if circumstances changed, I would be able to live as my true self. I would not have to hide forever. And maybe that planted the seed that I wasn’t as trapped as I thought I was.

That year was the first time I noticed Pride going on. And I wanted to be part of it but couldn’t let myself. I wasn’t ready to blow apart my life yet. I wouldn’t be for another four years. So, Pride to me means standing up and being counted. If Braveheart were made today, I don’t think they would casually murder the prince’s lover and play it for laughs. There are popular network shows where gay people get to kiss their boyfriends and girlfriends on screen. This even happens on so-called ‘family shows,’ (case in point my late, beloved Willow). Queer people are allowed to live their lives in the open, and in most places in the west, are given equivalent rights to straight people.

Now, in recent years we have been reminded that there are still many people who would gladly throw us out the nearest window. But those people are a minority. A sizable, vocal minority, yes, but a minority. Most people have a ‘live and let live’ attitude toward queer people now. People I once thought would never accept me if I came out of the closet and started living an authentic life have embraced me and welcomed my boyfriend into the family. Being gay has gone from being my most shameful secret to being one of the things I like most about myself. I’ve gone from praying to be straight to realizing that if I had the chance to be straight, I wouldn’t take it. It may not be a choice for me, but if it were, I’d choose to be queer. There’s nothing wrong with me (at least if there is, it’s not this).

So, that’s what Pride means to me. We can be proud of who we are. We can be the people we were created to be, and love the people we were created to love, no matter what gender that person is. It’s a giant middle figure to the people who want to push us back into the closet. We’re Here! We’re Queer! Go Fuck yourself!

I wish I could go back in time and tell my younger self that he would one day be able to accept every part of himself, and that it would be okay to be that person. He lived in pain for so many years, hating himself, afraid to even let himself be aware of what he really wanted. But those days are over, and we will stand together as a community and refuse to be forced back into those dark days. That’s what Pride is, a signal that we exist and are valid.

originally published on chadgrayson.com

#gay stuff #blog posts #pride #braveheart

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yhwhsdaughter · 3 years

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Eunuch! Bum x Queen! Reader + King! Sangwoo

word count: 4.1k

tw: sangwoo, noncon, abuse of power, misogyny, murder, cheating, degradation, choking, cursing, minors dni

Ongoing…

[Chapter 2] , [Chapter 3]

Upon sliding the doors open, you were welcomed to blood spraying on your face. Droplets kissed your cheeks and if it was a calmer atmosphere, it would give the illusion of a blush. Reality, however, was much horrifying. Shocked by this, you stopped to assess the scene. Everyone was afraid to move a muscle as the king swung his sword, killing the chief state councilor with a stroke. As his body fell, more blood puddled at your feet, staining your slippers. Once the initial horror faded, you sprang forward, hugging Sangwoo’s midriff. “Your Majesty! Please stop this!” It was a brave or perhaps foolish action, interfering with your ruler. Words falling on deaf ears, he pushed you from him. The closest guard caught your form. Despite his absolute authority, killing nobles without reason, especially high ranking officers, was frowned on.

This is madness.

Your king was beauteous and cruel. A month into his ascension to the throne and he was already crumbling the ideals in which this nation was founded. Stray hairs hung around his chiseled face, tiny beads of sweat mixed with blood giving him a sadistic gleam as he grinned. Looking your way for a moment, he lazily waved at guards, “Take the Queen to her room.” Without a choice, the two of them gently nudged you from the scene. “Your Highness, please follow us.” Though their faces remained unmoving, their tone revealed their true feelings on the matter. Palm pressed against your mouth, you threw one last glance at the massacre before you. Blinking any lingering emotions, you walked away.

—

Pants filled the room as Sangwoo thrusted into you relentlessly. He was angry; even though he’d appointed new council members, he wasn’t sure he could trust them. In his mind, everyone was after his crown. You were angry as well, but for an entirely different reason.

You laid bare before your king, the fine robes that adorned your body pushed aside revealed your soft breasts; legs spread showed the path to your royal cunt. It disgusted you, thinking how many women had been in this bed, in your same position. Though the silk sheets were pristine, it could never truly wash away the sin. He grunted, “Stop overthinking. Just focus on—” he was close “—taking my seed, it’s all that matters.” Uncaring about your pleasure, Sangwoo bent you into an uncomfortable position, one that allowed his member to penetrate your walls at a deeper angle.

You allowed it.

The two of you, mostly you, were under incredible pressure to conceive. Not just a child, but a male heir. The fact that you hadn’t produced a son for the king was worrying to your mother. She wrote, often. It’s all she could talk about in her letters nowadays; there was fear in her that you would suffer as she did. Four miscarriages, three stillbirths, and then you. Highly superstitious, your mother believed that her misfortune was the price for the murder of the heirs by concubines in a fit of jealousy.

“Put a baby in me Sangwoo.”

You nearly begged, if only to end this. Making love wasn’t an option, nor your life a fairytale. No. King Sangwoo only fucked, and in the most inconvenient places too. You’ll never forget the embarrassment endured when you had tea with several noblewomen; your gracious king thought it would be appropriate to do it in a room adjacent to theirs. He bent you over a desk, throwing everything else off it, before sheathing himself inside of you. Emerging twenty minutes later, you couldn’t even look the ladies in the eyes. No one said anything, lest they lose their heads, but they knew.

Spurred by your words, Sangwoo thrusted faster and harder. “Fuuuck.” He stayed attached to you, like a dog, making sure your womb swallowed every last bit of his essence before pulling out. “Get pregnant.” Is all he said to you as he dressed again and exited the chambers. Out of breath and without a care, you laid there on the bed.

—

A life of servitude awaited YoonBum the second he was born. His poverty stricken parents sold him to be a household slave. Doomed to this fate, Bum tried his best to follow through and avoid punishments. Unfortunately, his master was a sadist and everyday, he received a beating.

After running errands, Bum stood in line to receive the bags of rice his master had ordered. It was the last thing on his list before readying to go home and continue working. Being close by, he couldn’t help but overhear several gentlemen talking, “Where is that damned village?!”

The village in question, it seems, was Bum’s hometown. Because it was a tiny place full of peasants and criminals, cartographers didn’t bother putting it on a map. Only those that came from there knew the area. Sangwoo caught him staring. Quickly glancing away, Bum only saw the man motioning to his companions from the corner of his eye. In a matter of seconds, he was facing the man. He was dressed in purple robes and a gat, symbolizing his status. “Do you know where this village is?”

Daring not to look him in the eye, Bum was slow to nod. He’d been out long enough; his master was probably marching towards the market to drag him home. “Show me.” As guessed, a heavy man came barreling in their direction. He was red in the face. “Bum!” Master Yoon screamed obscenities. Coming to a stop, he sneered at the men.

“We need your servant.”

Though the statement seemed like a request, Sangwoo’s tone made it clear that it was an order. The balding man huffed, ready to curse him out and refuse when Sangwoo showed his name tag. It was made of a cool stone, Oh Sangwoo engraved with the royal crest. The fact that was once red turned pale in realization. Meek before his ruler, Mister Yoon had no choice but to relent. “We’ll be taking him then.”

Bum felt his humanity slip away as he was given to another man so easily. With his head bowed down, he followed this strange new path forged by the man in purple robes.

—

The Heavens decided to smile on YoonBum when he saved the king’s life.

It was an accident, really. The guards felt no threat to the approaching figure in the form of a frail, old lady who was an assassin in disguise. YoonBum saw the knife before they did, jumping in front of Sangwoo.

Adrenaline in his system, Bum didn’t realize he was stabbed till he felt warmth seeping through his rags. Looking down, red spread around the area. It hurt. Badly. Bum’s legs felt like noodles; the little energy he had left his body as he collapsed onto the dirt. Even breathing was painful. His intervention set things in motion. One of the bodyguards chased down the assassin, two stood by Sangwoo and another leant down to help him. He must’ve asked something important but Bum couldn’t hear him clearly. It’s like he was submerged underwater. The last thing he saw before his vision turned black, was Sangwoo staring at him with interest.

He woke up in the nicest room he’s ever been.

The king didn’t visit him personally but he was sent a letter. Red overtook his face as he was forced to admit he didn’t know how to read. The servant relayed the contents, stating that when he was recovered, he would serve the king closely. From someone of his birth, it was the best he could get. YoonBum suddenly felt immensely grateful; he would no longer sleep in a shed with the pigs but a real mat! The pain on his side reminded him of the price he’d paid for this position, but he was used to being hurt. At least now it served to help him.

As the moment of glee passed, Bum realized he didn’t quite know the etiquette of serving the king. Joy left his body as he wondered how he would figure it out.

Like him, Sangwoo was plagued by this constant state of unhappiness. After the attempt on his life, he would think his subjects would be glad to see him breathing but instead he got murmurs of concern. What if he’d died? Who would’ve taken the throne since there was no heir? It would’ve thrown the palace into chaos.

Their silent pleas did not go unheard. “Maybe I should have them killed. Them and their entire families—” he paused when he saw you in the gardens, smiling at one of your ladies. His heart twisted. Sangwoo couldn’t explain it, but he always got the urge to inflict pain on you. He could say it stemmed from a place of resentment. How hard was it to get pregnant? If you gave him a son, he wouldn’t be pestered by these old fucks. Not to mention, your face contorting in distress was intoxicating—not even the concubines could compete with that.

Beneath his robes, his cock twitched with excitement. Oh, how he was going to enjoy this. Approaching your unsuspecting figure, he threw a dazzling smile to your courtesans. Sangwoo knew how to use his assets advantageously. Despite the suffering he caused, people were rendered speechless by his charm and good-looks.

He was like a snake, slithering towards his prey, waiting to attack. You did not hear him coming till you saw your ladies-in-waiting bowing. Greeting him appropriately, you expressed your relief. “Your Highness, I am glad to see you unharmed.”

It’d been a while since you last saw him; when he arrived, the rumour about the assassin spread like wildfire. “My Queen, you are truly a vision. These flowers have nothing on your beauty. You are proof that absence makes the heart grow fonder.” His honeyed words felt like prodding the bees’ nest. If you weren’t careful, you would be stung.

The only times he was this affectionate was when he wanted something. He played the same lovestruck role with your father to convince him of marrying you. Sending your ladies off, Sangwoo dropped his smile. His expression was replaced with desperation. Pulling on your wrist, the two of you traversed to your quarters since they were closer. “Ah!” Thrown harshly onto the bed, you hardly had time to compose yourself before he was mounting you. “Let’s put your cursed womb to good use.” A gasp escaped your lips as he entered you without warning. Your hands formed to fists, grabbing onto the sheets for dear life. It hurts, it hurts!

“Your Majesty! Please— aaah! Be more gentle..!”

Without seeing his face, you could already picture his cruel smirk. “You were born a disappointment. The least you could do is serve your purpose as my wife and bear me an heir.” His words angered you. Managing to twist away, you tried to escape his iron grip. This only resulted in you being pushed onto your back. Sangwoo pried your legs open and realigned himself.

Slap!

Sangwoo’s eyes widened with disbelief. The stinging in his cheek somehow made his pulse beat faster. Hands wrapping around your throat, he squeezed. “You should treat your king with more reverence. It would be a shame if the nation lost its queen. Especially one who can be easily replaced.” Having been the youngest war general, Sangwoo had strength to spare. Your hands seemed small as they banged on his form, silently begging to release you.

Having your life in his hands gave him the edge he needed to cum. With a low moan, Sangwoo emptied himself inside you. In turn, you couldn’t even focus on anything else other than breathing, choking as you gasped for air that you’d previously been deprived of. Knowing that he was capable of committing the worst, death seemed better than staying by his side.

“Perhaps I am not the problem, Your Majesty.”

Your voice was raspy but it rang clear across his majesty’s mind. Your words struck deep, like a knife embedded in his brain. It created a wound that would eventually fester. “Shut up.”

As if to disprove your point, he visited every concubine, not leaving until none of them were left untouched. He needed a son, one way or another, and if you wouldn’t give it to him, he would seek it elsewhere.

—

YoonBum was mostly healed; if anything, it appeared he’d been forgotten after a week of rest. The medic was currently tending to his wound, “It's healing nicely. A few more days and you should be out of here.”

The two of them turned at the sound of the door sliding open, immediately bowing at Her Highness’ entrance.

“Your Majesty, how can I be of use?” It was a bit surprising to see you there; your medical checkup wasn’t till another month. He wondered if you were feeling ill. Fabric wrapped around your neck; the weather was tepid, even inside the palace. That’s when he noticed the purple marks that peeked from under the material. Aware of his pointed stare, you moved the scarf upwards to conceal it. “I need you to acquire these medicinal herbs for me.” Taking the list, he read it carefully. How odd. Before he could ask what they were for, you added, “Your discretion would be appreciated.”

“Of course.”

Bum sat there silently, head facing the floor when you acknowledged him. “Are you the man that saved my husband?” Snapping upwards, he sputtered before letting out a quick “Yes!” Finally having a chance to gaze at your face, Bum felt himself turning red. Dressed in the finest silks from head to toe, standing with an air of regalness, was you. Unlike the king, there was warmth in you. Being in the presence of such a being felt unreal.

At first glance, the young man seemed no different than the other servants. However, his pink cheeks reminded you of innocence that one so rarely saw in the palace, which was filled with betrayal and resentment. His disposition was kind of endearing. You hoped he would remain like this, untainted by the world. “Then I must thank you.”

At your words, Bum’s figure lowered, forehead touching the wood. “Y-your Highness is too kind!” This position caused him a stab of discomfort, applying pressure to his wound yet he refused to straighten up. Noticing, you motioned at him, “Don’t force yourself.”

With that brief interaction, you were gone.

Entering your chambers, you signaled for the maid. Unwrapping the silk bandages, you stared at the mirror. Your husband’s marks served as a reminder of who held the power in this union. The young woman kneeled before you, taking a round brush and rolling it in powder. Although her ministrations were gentle, you couldn’t help but hiss when it applied pressure to your tender skin. “Forgive this servant, Your Majesty!”

“Don’t mind it. Continue.”

—

The king was anxious.

It was one thing for you to not get pregnant, but he’d been keeping busy and there was still no news of concubines with child. Reminded and bothered by your words, he summoned the royal physician. Sangwoo believed he wasn’t the problem, he just needed confirmation. What did you know? He wanted an expert to say that he was fulfilling his duties as king and it was everybody else that lacked.

“I’m sorry to say this, Your Highness.. but you’re infertile.”

With great effort, Sangwoo stopped himself from strangulating the doctor. It was impossible. A frown etched itself in Sangwoo’s face, his handsome features twisting into something scary. “You’re wrong.” It didn’t make sense; as a healthy male in his prime, Sangwoo shouldn’t have a problem fathering as many children as he could. There were several causes that may have caused his infertility, especially since he was a war general but the fact remained that he could not produce children.

Only an heir of royal blood could be king.

He forced the poor man to do every test available to ensure this. The result was the same. Again. And again. “You must not be doing your job right.” As the guards dragged the pleading man, a piece of paper fell from the medics’ robes during the struggle. Picking it up, Sangwoo recognized your handwriting.

“What’s this?”

There was temporary relief in the man’s face as Sangwoo stopped in front of him. “That.. the Queen requested a few me-medicinal herbs.” It didn’t sit right with Sangwoo. Why on earth would you need this shit? The physician seemed hesitant to answer his question. A rough push finally ushered him to say, “Alone these herbs are fine, but mixed..”

As requested, the herbs were delivered to you by the doctor’s assistant. The timing was perfect too. “Why didn’t your master deliver these himself?” Nervous, the boy stuttered a few excuses before asking for permission to leave. That should’ve raised flags in your head but you wanted the plan to work. You needed it to work.

The king had finally taken time out of his busy schedule to visit you, and not just to copulate. He was kind enough to accept your invitation to have a picnic at the pavilion. It was surrounded by a grand lake and vividly green trees; a true landscape.

Sangwoo arrived with a familiar man at his side. You realized you never asked for his name, though that was easily fixed when Sangwoo made a vague motion towards him. “That’s Bum.” He was dressed in green and Sangwoo in red. In comparison to their bright colors, you wore a soft pastel pink, denoting your sophisticated features.

Sitting down, you signaled the servant to begin pouring the soup. Sangwoo raised a brow, curious, “You’re not going to eat?” Listening to your response, a smile appeared on his face. “I wanted to make a special meal for Your Highness, from the bottom of my heart.” It was unnerving, the way he looked at you. Still, you never lost composure, waiting patiently for him. That is, until he asked Bum to lean down and try it. Obedient, the male did so without question. Eyes widening, you managed to stop Bum from tasting. Your hand held onto his wrist tightly—the spoon hovering centimeters from his lips. A few droplets spilled onto the wooden table. Sangwoo tilted his head to the side, innocent expression in tow. “Something wrong?”

Everything is wrong!

Sangwoo knew. You didn’t know how, but of this, you were sure. Fear is what he wanted and you weren’t going to give it to him. “This meat in this broth was especially prepared for His Royal Highness. It shouldn’t go to waste on someone else.” The tip of Bum’s ears burned from embarrassment. He was under the impression you were a benevolent queen; instead, he was reminded of his lowly status. Of course he couldn’t eat the expensive meat, a peasant like him wouldn’t know how to appreciate the flavor. The hurt on his face was evident but he turned to the king, awaiting further instructions. Sangwoo wasn’t fazed, “Don’t be silly.”

Taking the spoon, Sangwoo offered it to you.

You stared at it, unmoving. Sangwoo poked your lips, “Who else but the Queen would be worthy to try such delicacy?” He was baiting you, daring you to deny or confess. Neither was an option. Grabbing the spoon from him, you slowly opened your mouth and dropped the contents inside. Sangwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly but he said nothing. “Swallow.” Damn him to hell. Before you could do such a thing, a guard interrupted. Apparently there were news concerning Yang Seungbae, a traitor to the crown; he was spotted near a town on the outskirts of the forest.

Sangwoo hated him. More than anyone. That bastard was working hard to rally forces that would conspire against him. While things were peaceful at court, Sangwoo had felt a shift ever since the assassination attempt. His eye twitched in annoyance, though you weren’t entirely positive if it was because of Seungbae or the fact that he’d been interrupted. Sitting completely still, you watched as Sangwoo whispered to Bum before leaving. As soon as he was gone, you grabbed a handkerchief and spit out the soup. This action worries a few servants but you waved them off. “It’s cold.” They couldn’t understand as you ordered them to throw it, seeing as it was perfectly edible. Such a waste, disposing of such good meat.

Bum followed you like a lost puppy. The first night Sangwoo bedded him, YoonBum experienced true love. It wasn’t gentle; the king’s touch harbored no hatred but passion. Bum had never felt like that. It made him feel special; the ruler of the country placed his lips and strong hands on his skinny body. He had a queen, concubines, and still, he went to him. Elated couldn’t begin to describe how Bum felt. His feelings for his king were all-consuming. Since then, he’d made a promise to follow every order Sangwoo asked of him. Bum didn’t have anything against you, truly, but his loyalty laid with his king.

On their way back, they encountered Imperial Concubine Min Jieun. The crowd following her greeted you respectfully, and while she did so too, there was a triumphant smirk on her face. Nodding in acknowledgment, you continued walking, enjoying nature. The sun warmed your skin, making you forget about any worries, if only for a moment. Once the group was out of earshot, you glanced at your companion. “What was that about?” It was no secret how spoiled Min Jieun was; she was a woman of noble birth, groomed to perfection. That’s the facade she chose to wear instead of the power hungry bitch she was. Envy burned in every particle of her body. She wanted you out of the picture—she wanted to be queen and mother of Sangwoo’s children. Still, your position commanded respect. Your lady leaned in, whispering, “There’s rumors that she’s with child.”

“Oh.”

Bum watched your composed reaction with intrigue. He could understand if you held a grudge towards her. He did. You would always be first to the king, so he had to accept that. Bum knew it was the way things ran. However, he couldn’t say the same for the other concubines. They had the chance to bear Sangwoo’s child. Bum only wished he could do so too. Alas, this resentment made him feel guilty because the concubines were amicable women—well, except Min Jieun. He didn’t realize that they were shackled to this restrictive lifestyle; that they had no choice but to make the best of the situation.

“Is there something you want to say?”

Almost jumping at the sudden sound of your voice, Bum gazed around to see who you were talking to. Finding your clear eyes on him, he realized you’d seen through him. “Uh.. n-no, Your Majesty..”

“Say it.”

“How.. how does Your Majesty handle it?”

Though the question itself was vague, you got the gist. “Queens are expected to rise above such earthly emotions.” You had a solemn expression and the grip around your fan tightened, “Jealousy is futile.”

Nodding, Bum felt like he’d swallowed vinegar. This revelation left him in deep thought. Perhaps that was the difference between royals and peasants; possessiveness was quick to overtake him while you had to live with the knowledge that your husband would seek the company of others.

Hm, maybe he was right not to envy you.

—

“The Queen has fallen ill.”

It was so sudden; you were so healthy one day and the next, chills racked your body, fever uncontrollable. The court tried to be positive on the matter but it wasn’t looking good. Sangwoo was advised to refrain from visiting you—if he got sick too, it would affect the entire nation. “I will see my wife as I see fit.”

“Open the door and step aside.”

He was like an angel of death, entering with eerie calmness. Even through the soft curtains he could see your weakened form. You looked thinner, unable to eat. The physicians tried to get you to consume anything but it was just regurgitated in minutes.

The bed dipped under his weight as he sat next to you.

“Did you eat something bad?” He caressed your face, pushing hairs away that stuck due to the sweat. Fingers tightening on the blankets, you managed to open your mouth. “Congratulations.” Lips pale and cracked, you smiled sardonically. Sangwoo wasn’t expecting that reaction. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve heard news that Concubine Jieun is pregnant.”

A dark look crossed his face. “Is that so?” He stood, “Perhaps I should pay her a visit.” Though his tone was mocking, there was something bothering Sangwoo. Fortunately for the king, you were too woozy to think straight. Leaning down, Sangwoo placed a hand behind your neck, lifting you just a bit, enough to kiss your lips.

“Don’t die.”

#oh sangwoo #sangwoo x yoonbum #sangwoo x reader #sangwoo #yoonbum x you #yoonbum x y/n #yoonbum x reader #killing stalking yoonbum #killing stalking #ks yoonbum #ks sangwoo #yang seungbae #king x reader

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chemicalpink · 2 years

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⍣ ೋ How he is in bed ⍣ ೋ | Tarot + Astrology | 18+ |Kim Taehyung

Disclaimer: This reading is based on my experience and knowledge of tarot, it is not meant to be the absolute truth, as BTS are real people, and tarot can only capture so much about multidimensional humans that have had past experiences and cultural approaches amongst other things, it does not have to resonate with you since this is in no way related to anyone reading it (unless you are a member of BTS in which case, get out of here lol ) This is just for entertainment purposes. Remember that tarot as a form of divination only allows us to read current energy and as time advances it becomes less accurate, so it basically reads up to a 6 months period of time

a/n:show must go on, we're getting this taejin’s birthday roast done

masterlist. tarot masterlist. astrology masterlist.

If you're a minor, don't interact you know how this goes.

OKAY Taehyung’s reading will definitely prove to be quite a difficult one, first of, this man is definitely on the naughty list for my readings, what’s with making my deck blow up? OKAY SO we’ve got the tower 6oW and king of swords with a bonus card judgement (because it kept on insisting to show up) with oracle cards control passion.

Listen- I normally wouldn’t want to stir things up and I surely hope I don’t but Kim Taehyung has been in a I don’t care it’s who I am rampage and- who am I to deny if the cards keep showing up. Sit tight cause we are going on a ride. First off, there’s this thought in the back of Tae’s mind that when he picks up a sexual partner everyone is going to know about it and it’ll be a huge ass scandal, idk why I keep thinking he’ll oull a Chen on us so take it if you must. Not in a near future, but I would keep an eye out for after his military service (when and if) that’s just the tower for you. NOW, I’m sensing Tae's more on the ‘sex to procreate’ side so I would 10/10 see him actually enjoying sex or being more aware of it when it comes to a partner he is either in a fully committed arrangement OR married to. I’m also getting this interrupted message of trouble in paradise so maybe- Tae’s efforts at saving a debilitating relationship is sex. Why? Come with me on a wild ride.

As much as his fantasies on sex as an ideal or standard pretty much fall in line with more traditional sides of interpersonal relationships, there’s two major arcana and a Court card. A King nonetheless. This man knows what he does in bed. More than knows, he’s an expert, he knows how much power he holds in bed and will undoubtedly exploit it. He’s the type to ‘ruin you for anyone else’ we’re talking major words here.

Now this man has a Capricorn Mars and Aquarius Venus, kinky and hard dom Taehyung, very expensive foreplay this man is one to leave his partner feeling dizzy, although conventional, Taehyung enjoys sensual and passionate, very in line with his reading and oracle. His Aquarius venus taps into his rather selfish nature which might be referenced in the ‘falling part’ part of the reading, his partner staying with him might be due to this inner and inexplicable need to be consumed and consume his partner rather than something more logical.

Decks Used: Romantic Angels, Tarot of the Divine

#bts tarot #kpop tarot #bts astrology #kpop astrology #kim taehyung tarot #kim taehyung astrology #cp: taejin

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animerina · 3 years

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Wine For Freedom

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22)

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Thranduil x F!Reader, Platonic Bard x Reader

Summary: The Reader is left with nothing but three bottles of wine after Smaug destroyed Laketown. Stuck in Dale with no plan and no family, she has no idea how she will survive until the Elven King comes to town.

Note: Suggestive material, minors DNI. This started as a one shot and ended up as a full story. You can read the rest on A03.

All Italics are Elvish.

Chapter 1: It Started with a Crate of Wine

I had lived in Laketown all my life, but after the death of my parents, there weren’t many options for me. Many didn’t expect a woman to do more than marry and bear children, but I was determined to make a living for myself. I tried to learn to fish, but the men wouldn’t allow me to do so on their boats with the excuse being it was too much trouble to get a permit from the Master. I couldn’t sew or find anyone willing to teach me in the small town. The only place willing to hire me was the Master's house as a maid and I preferred to stay far away from there.

At a loss of what to do, I had asked Bard if he knew anyone willing to hire me for anything. He mentioned the brewmaster, Jonas, needed help. He had three sons but two were too young to help around the brewery. After much begging, Jonas agreed to let me assist him. He was grateful for the help, and was especially thankful that I was not only a fast learner, but had a knack for the craft. For the past four years, I had been training under the brewmaster in Laketown, not only learning how to make ale, but also wine and liquor alongside him and his sons. Finally, I thought life was going the way it was meant to and I couldn’t have been happier.

After Smaug had destroyed the town, Jonas had tried salvaging what was left of his home. Because of the lack of supplies and space, he had regretfully let me go unsure if he’d ever be able to utilize his trade again. His family had retreated into the remains of Dale with everyone else and left me by the shore. Not knowing what to do, I wandered aimlessly around what remained from Laketown managing to rescue a few bottles of wine that survived and floated to shore. I heard my name being called and looked up from my bottles to see Bard rushing over.

“Oh thank the gods you made it! Are your children alright?” I called out as I rose from my crouched position to meet him.

“Yes, everyone is safe. Are you alright?” He answered. I felt relief at his words knowing Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda were safe.

“Yes, I’m glad to have made it out of there,” I looked over my shoulder at what remained of home. Smoke was still visible from where we stood.

Bard looked down at the shore and saw the wine I saved. Picking up a bottle, he rolled it in his grip. “These are yours?” He questioned.

I nodded. “They survived and floated over. I’m keeping them for now. I could trade them for food. Maybe a blanket.”

Bard’s eyes raked over my soaked and tattered dress and apron with sympathy.

“Don’t worry, you can stay with us,” He decided as he picked up the crate I’d been putting the bottles in.

“I don’t want to be a burden. I can find somewhere-,” I tried to argue, but he would have none of that.

“Y/N, please,” he countered, “You are no burden. We have supplies for tonight and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone.” He paused for a moment. “Did Jonas make it?”

I nodded in response. “His whole family, luckily.”

“And you didn’t go with them?” I knew he was genuinely curious because almost everyone knew I had grown close with the family in my time working with him and his children.

“The future is uncertain and he has his family to care for. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself if I have to.” I tried pulling the crate into my own arms but Bard refused to let go.

“You are not a burden,” he repeated. “We’ve holed up in one of the buildings. It still has a roof. Bain and I will salvage what we can. I ask that you stay with my daughters while we’re out.”

“Thank you, Bard,” I relented and followed him to one of the buildings in the middle of Dale.

The next morning, I awoke between Sigrid and Tilda across from Bain still wrapped in his blanket. I sat up and wrapped mine around the girls. Tilda stirred as I stood back from them. I silently cursed. I hadn’t wanted to wake the children, but I desperately needed some fresh air. Everything that had happened seemed like a blur and I needed to plan my next move. I couldn’t stay with Bard’s family forever as much as I adored them. Bard already had enough to bear on his own. I wouldn’t allow him another burden.

“Where are you going?” Sigrid mumbled sleepily. “Da said to stay here.”

“Just outside. I won’t go far,” I promised.

Seemingly accepting my answer, her head lolled back as she fell back into sleep. I smiled down at her as she curled around Tilda’s smaller form and made my way to the door. I slipped outside shading my eyes from the bright sun. The sharp wind bit at my skin causing me to violently shiver. Pulling my coat tighter around me I walked down toward the center of town looking for Bard.

Suddenly, a white horse turned the corner down the tight alleyway and I slammed myself against the wall to avoid being trampled. Gasping for breath, I looked up as the rider, whom I now realized was an elf, stopped right in front of me.

“My apologies,” he nodded his head before continuing down the path, albeit slower. I watched him ride away still shocked that I was nearly run over. Confused as to what an elf was doing in Dale, I rushed to the square and found more elves amidst carts full of food being handed out to chaotic crowd. Pushed from my original spot as the crowd thickened, I made my way up a set of stairs to continue my search for Bard. I spotted him at the forefront of the group speaking to who I assumed was the Elven King who looked absolutely regal and intimidating upon his elk. His eyes were sharp as they glanced over at the crowd eagerly accepting his aide, face remaining neutral in the chaos.

I scrambled back down the steps and waited off to the side trying to get Bard’s attention. After a few minutes, he came to me with a sack of supplies the elves had brought.

“Take these back to the children and stay there.” He had a grim look on his face which made my stomach clench in dread.

“Bard, what’s going on?” My voice conveyed my worry.

He shook his head in frustration. “There may be war, but I am hoping to avoid it if possible. Go back to the house, and tell no one of what we have spoken of. I will be there as soon as I can.”

Still worried, but trusting Bard, I hurried back to his children evading their questions about their father and the elves. Night fell quickly and the children and I sat huddled around a small fire Bain made. I had Tilda in my arms trying to keep her small body warm. I made sure they ate, but saved enough to ration out so they would not go hungry in the ensuing days. I did not know how long the elves would help.

“Y/n, where is Da?” Tilda questioned me as she sat in my lap.

“He’s with the Elven King. Probably still discussing how much longer they’ll aid us.” I spoke confidently even though I was worried about everything. The thought of war lingered in the back of my mind. How much more loss could we take?

“If they’re here to help us, why did they bring weapons?” Bain muttered angrily.

As I was about to respond, Bard walked through the door. He was breathing heavy as if he had run from the elves’ camp to the house.

“Da!” His children ran from their spots, blankets falling onto the floor, as their arms wrapped around him. I could hear Tilda sniffle as she began to cry and so I went over to comfort her.

“Y/n,” Bard interrupted my movements. “Where is the wine?”

I stopped and then walked to the crate pulling the three bottles out.

“They’re here. Do you need them?” I brought them over to him.

“Yes, thank you. King Thranduil loves his drink. He’s run low. I offered him what he had. I’ll return shortly,” he spoke to his children and took the bottles from my arms. They reluctantly let go of him rushing back to grab their blankets they had dropped.

“I know you were planning to barter these,” he whispered to me. “I will repay you for them.”

Shaking my head, I refused. “You’ve already helped me enough. I want nothing in return.”

He smiled warmly in thanks but I felt he’d try to return the favor anyway.

I expected Bard to return later, long after his children drifted off, but I was surprised when not twenty minutes later he was standing in the door way again. Before I could ask him if everything was alright, he gestured for me to follow him outside. I settled his children before heading to the opened door. There was an elf standing outside the house, the same one that nearly ran me down. He was stoic, like earlier, and his presence unnerved me. Bard quickly pulled me over to him so that we were a few steps away from the elf and facing the door. His worried look did nothing to ease my nerves.

“The wine you had. You did make it, correct?” I nodded dumbly. His face didn’t change.

“The King wants to see you,” his voice was hushed. He set his hands on my shoulders and gripped them tightly.

After a beat, I gasped out, “Why?!” I was absolutely terrified. Had I displeased him? The King had to know we were limited in supplies. It was not like we had Dorwinion wine laying around for him. Bard looked behind me before answering as I felt someone step behind me.

“My lady, we must make haste. King Thranduil is not a patient ellon.” The elf said. “I am to take you to him now.”

“Bard?” Nervous I turned back to him silently asking if he was coming as well.

“I have to stay with the children,” he responded. He gently urged me toward the elf. “Feren will escort you there. Don’t worry,” he whispered the last part.

Reluctantly I followed Feren to the elves’ camp that was erected in a field near the ruins of Dale. I realized I must look a mess after the ordeal we’d been through and I spoke my concerns as we approached the largest tent in the center of the camp. I knew King Thranduil must be in there.

“I am not dressed properly,” I looked down at the shredded ends of my dress, stained with dirt and soot. At least I was dry now.

Without turning to me, Feren responded. “King Thranduil knows of the struggles your people have recently faced and is prepared to see you as you are.”

If I could possibly feel worse, I would. Self-consciously, I started rubbing at my face just in case I had any dirt smudged there. Feren noticed, but said nothing.

We stopped at the flap of the tent where two guards were stationed. Feren spoke to them. He put up a hand for me to wait and then entered the tent. I could hear him speak, but could not make out what he was saying. It was probably Sindarin which I couldn’t understand anyway. Someone else responded and the brunette elf opened the flap back and motioned for me to enter.

Walking into the tent, I was taken aback at how ridiculously ornate everything was. All this comfort for a few days away? My mind was so shaken I didn’t realize Feren was announcing me to the King who sat lounging in his chair staring at me amused. I had already seen him from afar, but this close I could see just how handsome and intimidating he was. He was, by far, the most ethereal being I had ever laid eyes on and I felt my heart race just looking at him. The self-conscious feeling returned and I looked down at my feet to hide my reddened cheeks.

“Leave us,” Thranduil waved his hand and Feren bowed before exiting the tent. Unsure of what to say or do, I just stood there in silence afraid of embarrassing myself further.

“Are you the brewmaster of Laketown?” He asked.

“No, your majesty,” I said softly, still unable to look directly at him.

“No?” He hummed to himself. “Have they sent a tavern maid then?” He was insulting me, but what could I say in retaliation to a king? I decided to just answer honestly and plainly while I was in his tent.

“No, your majesty. I was not the brewmaster, but I trained under him.”

“I see, so you did make this wine then?” He gestured to the table next to him where one of the three bottles Bard had taken sat next to an ornate goblet. Thranduil lifted it to his lips and took a long sip. The sight made me swallow hard.

“Is it not to your taste, your majesty? I apologize as this was all the wine we salvaged from the facility.”

He held up his hand to silence me and took another sip, still watching me. “How long have you trained?”

“Four years,” I summoned the courage to look at him. His eyebrows drew together as he examined me and I fought the urge to look away again.

“You worked in a brewery. Can you make ale as well?” He took a long sip of the wine after asking.

“Yes, that is what we mostly brew and I also make a wicked cider.” I smiled fondly remembering the recipe I’d been working on before Smaug burned the town.

“Wicked cider?” Thranduil sounded amused again and I immediately stumbled over a “Yes, your majesty”.

“Anything else?” He set the goblet back down on the table.

“We were a the only brewery so we made all the alcohol for the town. I can make liquor as well out of, well, out of a few things.” I finished hoping he wouldn’t ask any more questions. I just wanted him to explain what he wanted me here for. I opened my mouth to ask, but couldn’t manage to get the words out.

He silenced me again when he stood from his pseudo-throne and towered over me. My head tilted up to meet his gaze. Valar, he was tall.

“A brewmaster, a vintner, and a distiller all wrapped in one package, hmm? Quite impressive for such a young girl,” Thranduil teased, tilting his head to the side as he walked around my trembling form. As he came to stand in front of me again, he nodded to himself.

“Bard tells me you are orphaned.” He said it so easily.

I nodded before responding. “I am,” I tried to speak clearly through my nerves.

“No family, no husband, no job,” he drawled. “What ever shall you do?”

Sitting back down, he grabbed his goblet again. After another long sip, he spoke again.

“You know why we are here, do you not?”

“War,” I whispered.

“Indeed, I have come for something that belongs to me and once I have it, we shall return to Mirkwood. You will come with us,” he stated.

I sputtered in disbelief at what just passed through his lips. He smirked at my antics. I was beginning to think he liked making fun of me.

“I am in need of a proper brewmaster and now that Laketown is gone, I will need a vintner as well. You will return to Mirkwood with us,” he paused his explanation. “Unless you’d rather stay here.”

I did not know if I would ever feel at home in Mirkwood, but the king was giving me an opportunity I could not pass up. I had no plans and nothing left in Dale so I didn’t hesitate to give him my answer.

“It would be my honor to serve you, King Thranduil,” I lowered my head respectfully.

“Well now that that is settled, you may leave. I will send for you before we ride to Mirkwood,” he stopped to call out in Sindarin. Feren appeared in the entrance of the tent and bowed.

“Feren will escort you back. Do not leave the city, Lady Y/N.” He waved us away and I followed my escort back to the building I was staying in. I thanked the elf as he left and entered the building. The children were asleep, but Bard quickly rose from where he was seated.

“Are you alright?” He was clearly worried.

“Yes, I’m alright,” I began. “King Thranduil has asked me to return to Mirkwood with the elves.”

Bard looked at me in disbelief. I explained everything that had transpired between the king and I as well as my fears of the future in Dale and becoming a burden.

“He is not forcing you to go, is he?”

I shook my head. “No, I swear. He may not have offered the choice, but I want to go,” I explained.

“There are no humans in the forest, Y/N. Will you be alright around all the elves? They rarely tolerate outsiders,” He argued.

Shaking off his doubt, I reassured him that I was happy use my craft. “I just hope the elves like what I make,” I joked.

“King Thranduil seems to,” Bard pulled me deeper into the room so that we could rest. Making my way to where his girls were, I settled down next to them, pulling the extra blanket over myself. I looked over to Bard who was lying next to Bain.

“Goodnight, Bard,” I whispered. “And thank you for everything.”

“Goodnight, y/n,” he whispered back.

_______

The children and I had barely escaped the ensuing chaos of the battle. The girls and I had hid after being saved by Bard. I couldn’t believe we were living through this nightmare. Tilda’s little hangs clung to my dress and I held her tightly in return. Sigrid was pulled up against my side. After what felt like hours, the battle was over and we walked out to see just what carnage it had brought. The girls and I continued on the path towards the building we had been staying in and I was pleased to see it was still standing. After ushering them inside, we sat and waited huddled together.

Not long after, Bard ran through and pulled his children to his chest. Bain was with him and I started to sob into my hands. I was so grateful they had survived. A fire was started and Bard once again left to speak with Thranduil. I stayed up watching over the children, afraid that if I closed my eyes, the orcs would be running through the city again.

When Bard returned, two elves accompanied him. I recognized Feren, but the other was a female I had never seen before. She bowed her head in greeting and handed me a bundle of clothing. As I looked it over, I realized it was travel attire. I nodded my head and silently entered an abandoned part of the building to quickly change into the leggings and tunic. I thought about wrapping my dress back up, but it was so ruined with blood and dirt, I just left it crumpled on the ground and returned to where they waited for me.

“I wish you the best,” Bard said as I approached. He pulled me into a hug and I quickly returned it as I began to tear up. “Thank you for watching over them,” he smiled.

“And thank you for watching over me, King Bard,” I teased so I wouldn’t feel so sad leaving. “I don’t want to wake them. Please tell them I will miss them,” I said, releasing him from my hold. “I wish you and your children all the happiness in the world.”

Feren led me over to the white horse he nearly ran me down with. I placed my foot in the stirrup and pulled myself up into the saddle. I nearly yelped when the elf slid into the seat behind me causing the female elf to snicker as she mounted her bay mare. I wasn’t expecting him, but then again there were only two horses. I felt lucky they weren’t making me walk.

His hands gripped the reins, effectively trapping me between his arms. My body tensed as I felt his chest against my back.

“Again I apologize, my lady,” he spoke as we started back towards the camp. “We lost many horses to the battle.” I felt him lean his head closer to my ear. “And this way, I will be sure not to trample you,” he chuckled softly.

Laughing along with him, I relaxed and let him lead on until we reached the camp. The tents were already packed up leaving no trace of the elves. The other elf with us spoke to Feren in Sindarin before riding ahead to catch up to the remaining group ahead. We rode at a slower pace, but caught up eventually nevertheless. I took one last look at Dale and knew I would miss what was left of home, but I couldn’t help but look forward to what awaited me in Mirkwood.

1 year later

Galion, the king’s steward, strolled into the cellar, eyes roaming around the converted brewery for me. My eyes caught his from the top of the tank.

“What can I do for you, Galion?” I called down to him with a smile on my face.

“Good evening, mellon. King Thranduil requests your presence for dinner,” he explained.

Confusion crossed my face as I descended the steps to stand in front of the tall elf. Galion was one of the few elves I interacted with as the impromptu brewmaster Thranduil acquired. It was not that they disliked me, although I was certain some of them were wary of me. Mirkwood elves were not used to humans after all. I tended to hole up in the cellar most of the day, so I rarely saw anyone outside of the palace staff and a handful of guards that patrolled the area.

As if Galion read my mind, he responded with, “He did not say why, but he asked that you be there.”

I shook my head. It was unusual for Thranduil and myself to cross paths in the palace, but I had been invited to dine with him before on several occasions. He seemed lonelier now that the prince had left and I supposed he was starving for company.

I sighed knowing I’d have to go get ready soon if I wanted to be on time. I had just started working on a new recipe and I hated leaving anything unfinished. With another long sigh, I headed toward a shelf that held my more experimental varieties of wine and liquor. My fingers grazed over the labels until I found what I was looking for. I grabbed the dark bottle and handed it to Galion as we started up the stairs.

“Let me know what you think of this one,” I said making my way up to my room. Galion followed beside me.

“Thank you, mellon. I’m sure Elros and I will enjoy it. Is this the one you made with the berries from the gardens?” He rolled the bottle in his hand appreciatively.

I confirmed with a nod. Galion and another elf, Elros, had quickly become my unofficial tasters when I arrived a year ago. Rather, they volunteered for the opportunity without provocation. They approved everything I sent to Thranduil because, as Galion put it, they knew his taste best. The two of them, aside from my maid, Calanthe, were the ones I felt most comfortable around, though Feren wasn’t far behind. I later learned he was not as stoic as he seemed, and enjoyed visiting with him when I got the chance.

Galion left me at my door and I found Calanthe already inside preparing a dress for me from my closet. King Thranduil was generous enough to provide me with a large wardrobe after I settled in. Calanthe had also been assigned to serve me as well as teach me the language, although my lessons were not progressing as fast as anyone hoped.

“There you are,” she smiled at me. “Does this suit you for this evening?” She gestured to the dress laying on my bed.

“It’s beautiful,” I said as I ran my fingers over the silky material. The deep red was rich in color and I couldn’t wait to get it on.

“Ah, ah,” Calanthe chided. “Bath first.” She pointed you the adjoining bathroom. I laughed as I followed her directions and saw she had already drawn the bath for me.

After bathing, she helped me pull the red silk on and fix the corset in the back. The sleeves’ seam was opened from the shoulder and closed at the wrist showing the skin of my arms. The corset accented my waist, though it was hard to breathe. I preferred to wear my shorter dresses with tights when I was in the cellar but I supposed that would be inappropriate for dinner with the Elven King.

She sat me down at the vanity and braided my hair for me since mine never came out nice enough. Even after a year of living with the elves, and practicing on Calanthe’s deep blonde mane, I still hadn’t mastered the skill and was teased for my crooked plaits. Calanthe made two on each side and joined them behind my head.

“I would do something more intricate, but we are going to be late.” She moved so I could rise from the seat.

“You did a beautiful job as always, mellon.” I smiled at her and allowed her to exit the room ahead of me.

The material swept across the floor as I followed Calanthe to the dining room. The guard nodded at us and opened the door for me to enter. Thranduil was already seated at the head of the table dressed in silver robes and a matching circlet rather than his crown. As I approached he gestured for me to join him, a servant pulling the chair next to him for me.

I bowed in greeting. “Good evening, Aran nin. I thank you for inviting me to join you.”

“I was beginning to think you’d declined my invitation.” He teased. One of the servants came and filled my glass with wine as I sat down.

“I apologize, Aran nin. Galion caught me working on a new blend and I was hesitant to leave it,” I explained.

He hummed and sipped at the wine. I did the same and blinked in surprise as it hit my tongue.

“This is-,” I began as I stared at the dark liquid in my glass.

“The wine you gave Galion. Yes, I decided I’d like to be the first to try it. Your skills have definitely bloomed since your time in Laketown.” Another sip and the servant was refilling his glass. I suddenly recalled Bard’s words about him enjoying his drink and smiled as I took another sip.

“I’m sure you have another bottle to give him, though, I think he and Elros could use a break as your tasters. I’d hate for them to enjoy it while they’re on duty.” Thranduil’s words dripped with sarcasm.

I covered my mouth as I giggled. I knew exactly how those dwarves had escaped the dungeons a year prior having heard some of the guards tell the story more than once. The king chucked softly at my own reaction.

“So, King Thranduil, why invite your brewmaster for dinner? I’m sure you are not lacking in good company.” Again, he smiled into his glass.

“I quite enjoy your company,” he drawled out.

“Surely you jest! I was under the impression you tolerate me because of my talent.” I playfully argued. He seemed to be in a good mood today which made me want to indulge his teasing just a bit.

Thranduil scoffed with a smile still gracing his face. “If anyone else spoke to me that way, they’d be in the dungeon. So, little one, I’d say I more than tolerate you despite your behavior. Besides, you are one of the few I can trust to be honest with me.”

“If you ask me for the truth, why should I lie to you?”

“Even if the truth upsets me?”

“I believe if I upset you, I wouldn’t live to see the next day so at least my suffering would be short lived.” I replied with a cheeky smile.

“You are too cruel, Hiril vuin.”

“My apologies, Aran nin.”

Another chuckle left him. He raised a hand and the servants brought out several plates piled with simmered rabbit and various roasted vegetables. I waited for Thranduil to serve himself first before I followed suit. We shared polite conversation over the meal, but I was still curious as to the real reason why he invited me.

“You still haven’t told me the real reason why I am here, my king.”

His face fell momentarily, but he quickly composed himself. After a pause, he answered. “I wanted to speak with you about returning to Dale.”

I nearly dropped my fork at his statement. “You wish for me to return to Dale?” I was in shock.

“Most of the city has been restored. You could have a brewery set up there if you wished. Of course, I would request you still fulfill the palace orders,” he paused to look me in the eyes. “In Dale, you could be around your own people.”

Not knowing how to feel, I tried not to get overwhelmed. Before I could think about what to do or say, I said, “If you wish for me to return to Dale, then simply say so. I did not know my presence was such a bother here.”

I bit my tongue as I finished. I jested about his anger beforehand, but I knew he really did anger easily and I worried of what he’d do now that I’d spoken out like that. His hand found mine on the table, his rings cool against my skin. His thumb ran across my knuckles surprisingly gentle. The touch was surprising, but not unwelcome.

“You misunderstand, Hiril vuin. I do not wish to send you away, but if you wish to be free, know that I will let you go.”

“You would give me that choice?”

“I want to know that you stay because you wish to, not because you feel you must.”

“You saved me. I am indebted to you.” I argued. He had given me a chance at a life for myself. I never thought I’d ever be more than a girl working in a washed out brewery. Here, I had full control of the entire facility. I was free to experiment with my craft and I answered to no one but the king himself. He had given me more freedom than I ever imagined, even if I was a subject of his realm.

His voice interrupted by thoughts. “I free you from your debt. If you wish to leave, I will ensure King Bard has a place for you in Dale. You two were friends, were you not?”

“I want to stay,” I nearly shouted and then caught myself. “I want to stay here in Mirkwood until you tire of me and my skills.”

He stood at my confession. “Come with me,” he commanded. Jumping to my feet, I caught him smile gently at my actions. “Let us take a walk.”

I followed Thranduil out of the dining room and down the adjoining hallway, trying to keep up with his long strides. He was silent, but upon noticing me trying to match his pace, he slowed. I recognized the path we were taking as soon as the hallway split. After a few moments, the two of us were in his throne room at the bottom of the steps.

“Aran nin,” I began, confused as to why he’d bring me here.

“Come, Y/N,” he offered his hand to me and I took it. He tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and started ascending to his throne. I followed beside him in silence still trying to reason what we were doing here. We arrived at his throne while I was still deep in thought.

“Sit,” he released my hand as he maneuvered me to face him.

“But that is your throne,” I reasoned.

“I am well aware of what it is. Now as your king, I command you to sit.” His tone was authoritative but his gaze was playful. Shaking my head, I did as I was told and sat down on the polished wood. My hands ran over the smooth material admiring the craftsmanship. I felt intimidated by Thranduil looming over me so I looked behind him at the view from so far up.

“I can see why you like sitting here,” I said trying to fill the silence in the room. “But why am I sitting here?”

“I am rewarding you for your loyalty,” he was leaning over me now. His voice had deepened and I shivered at sound.

“By letting me sit in your throne?” I asked confused. It truly was an honor and I realized I should appreciate the gesture. Before I could explain what I meant, however, I was stopped by Thranduil’s chuckle. His gaze met mine as I watched him take a step closer to the throne, hands trailing up the edges of my dress and pushing it past my thighs. I gaped at him in shock trying to move back but his grip tightened and his dark gaze pinned me in place. He was smirking down at me and I had never felt smaller in my life. I followed his gaze as he sunk to his knees before me and ever so slowly pushed my legs apart.

“You should be grateful, meleth nin, for tonight I kneel before you.”

Tag list: (If you’d like to get added please let me know.)

@velvetmotel20

#oof it's a long one #thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil x y/n #mirkwood #feren #bard the bowman #king bard #the hobbit #galion #thranduil imagine

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wild-lavender-rose · 2 years

Text

I’ve Got You (part 2)

Part 1

Pairing: Thomas Barrow x fem!reader

Category: Hurt/comfort

Summary: You are Tom’s wife. You’ve married him to help conceal his true sexual identity. After catching you asleep in the servant’s hall, Tom takes you home so you can rest. Unfortunately, your condition is much more severe than he realizes.

Warnings: Description of severe exhaustion, minor swearing (typical of time period), intense crying

“You’re not going to work today and that’s final.”

“Tom,” you began, your tone just as stubborn as his. “We do not have the money for me to be taking an entire day off from work.”

“No, I won’t have it. I brought you here to rest and today you look worse than you did before.” Leaning against the doorway to your cottage’s tiny kitchen, Tom gave you a nod. “Look at you, holding onto the table like it’s the only thing keeping you up.”

“It is not.” You snapped, straightening your posture so you weren’t touching the kitchen table at all. This caused a wave of dizziness to pound through your aching head, the sensation nearly causing you to double over. But you could not give in. You and Tom had to get to work.

“Fine then,” Tom pushed off the doorway. “If you’re so set on going out, then we’ll go out.” He turned and went for his jacket. “To the doctor.”

“Thomas! I’m fine!”

“Oh really?” Tom came back into the kitchen wearing his jacket and carrying yours. “Let’s see about that, shall we?” He tossed your jacket onto the table and stepped close, closer than he usually ever came.

Before you could resist Tom put his warm hand on your forehead and slid it down over your aching eyes, forcing you to close them. The darkness flooded over you, so soft and sweet and inviting. Your body craved darkness, it craved sleep.

Tom caught you as you fell heavily against him, removing his hand only to tuck your head into the crook of his neck. “Why won’t you sleep, darling? Seems to me that would be the answer to everything.”

“I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t.” You tried to move away from him but he wouldn’t allow it, holding you against him.

The physical contact was unusual for both of you. You each had separate rooms in the cottage with separate beds. You had only kissed a couple times in public when you were married. The two of you had dutifully held hands on days off at markets and carnivals. There had been just enough physical contact between the two of you to keep Tom safe from gossip.

But this, him holding you now, it was unneeded. Why was Tom so worried? You thought you had concealed your inability to sleep well. All the times you had tiptoed past his room downstairs to make hot chocolate or go out for a midnight walk. But then, you had forgotten one very simple fact.

Thomas Barrow was the king of secrets. And he knew what it looked like when someone had one.

“Here, sit down,” Tom pulled out a kitchen chair for you and helped you to sit, pulling out the chair beside you and sitting as well. He leaned forward when you stared at your clasped hands, making eye contact with you. His voice was gentle. “Now you’re gonna tell me what all this is about, otherwise I’m going to pick you up and carry you to the hospital and force you to miss out on God knows how much work.”

“Great bedside manner you’ve got there, Tom.” You looked away as your eyes filled with tears, reaching up to hide them behind your hands.

“Come on, sweetheart. You’re scaring me.” Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to you. “You never cry.”

“You don’t have to call me that, Tom. We’re alone.” You managed a watery smile as you took it from him, the soft fabric pressing against your sore eyes. But the tears didn’t stop.

“Well, you’ve got the sweetest heart of anyone I’ve ever met, so I don’t see why not.”

“Cheeky bugger.” You laughed through the tears. “And you wonder why all the maids are after your eye.”

“If only that handsome new grocer in the market would see it your way. Seems like whenever we go he spends more time looking at you than me.”

“On your next day off I’ll send you to the market alone then.”

“I was about to say the same thing to you.” Tom leaned forward even further, his gaze imploring, desperate even. “Is that what’s making you so sick?”

“What?”

“I know... I know I’m not a good husband to you. Are you worried... Do you regret marrying me? I know the stress of my secret is terrible, enough to keep you from sleeping all these nights.”

“Tom, no,” you reached forward and took his warm hand in your cold ones. “Trust me, that is the last thing that bothers me. If I worry at all it’s that I fear you’ll never find someone who you can love truly.” You looked down at the handkerchief in your lap, the tears blurring your vision along with the pounding headache and dizzying need for sleep. “I...I have to apologize to you.”

Tom scoffed. “Whatever for?” He asked, wrapping your hands in his own to warm them.

“I’ve been selfish. Incredibly, childishly selfish. Do you remember, when you left for the war, how I wrote to you?”

“Yes.” He gave a small smile. “Only got a few of them.”

“And when you came back to Downton, I asked you to marry me?”

“For the widows’ benefits, I’m sure.” Tom’s teasing smile vanished as your shoulders shook in a fresh wave of tears. “Sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

“I didn’t marry you just to help keep your secret, Tom. I married you because I was terrified of losing you.” Your voice grew louder as the pain you had hidden for so long came rushing forth. “When you were in the war I had these awful nightmares of you being shot and dying with no one around. I would wake at night screaming. Then after we were married I thought that the nightmares would stop, but they didn’t! They’ve come back, Tom! They’ve come back because I am a selfish, awful person who deserves to be punished for trying to keep you close when...when...When you don’t even love me back!”

And with that you broke, your whole body heaving with sobs as you doubled over in pain and utter exhaustion. There it was. The secret you had held inside you for so, so long. The true, selfish reason you wanted to be with Tom. All the times you panicked when he left Downton for a day, all the times you stood outside his doorway at night just to hear his breathing and know that he was safe.

The weight alone had been crippling, but the nightmares. The nightmares. They had broken you. And now here you were, unable to be strong for him. Crying. Ashamed, you tried to pull your hands away from Tom. But he wouldn’t let you.

“Come here, my darling.” Tom stood and put his arms around you. You didn’t resist as he picked you up and cradled you close, pressing your wet face against his shoulder. He was whispering something in your ear. You were crying too hard to make it out. Were they...apologies?

Tom carried you up to your room and sat you on your bed. He helped you to take off your shoes and unpin your hair, running his fingers through the loose ringlets a few times before easing your head down onto the pillow. You squirmed on your side as he sat on the bed beside you, struggling to breathe through your sobs.

“Shh, it’s all right. I’ve got you. I’m here.” Tom rubbed gentle circles on your back. He was always so gentle, especially with you.

You reached out and gripped his knee, trying desperately to ground yourself in his presence. Darkness swept over you, cool, sweet darkness. You whimpered, trying to fight it. You needed to stay there, in that moment. You didn’t want Tom to leave. His touch and his words felt so good. The first time he or any other man had touched you so intimately. If you fell asleep, the feeling would be replaced by the image of Tom dying on the battlefield. You couldn’t live through that again.

But as darkness closed in and your sobs grew faint, you discovered that you didn’t have a choice. Exhaustion had taken over.

And all the horrors that went with it.

Part 3

Fanfic Masterlist

#downton abbey #downton abbey series #downton abbey fanfiction #downton abbey fandom #thomas barrow #tom barrow #mr barrow #thomas barrow x you #thomas barrow x reader #thomas barrow x y/n #tom barrow x you #tom barrow x reader #tom barrow x y/n #thomas barrow fluff #mr barrow fluff #barrow

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speechlessxx · 3 years

Text

my house of stone, your ivy grows & now i’m covered in you.

{King!Steve Rogers x noblewoman!Reader}

with a side of Prince/King!Peter Parker x Reader

ROYALTY/MEDIEVAL AU

summary -> engaged to the Prince of Arachnia, the young maiden finds her heart calling out the name of another.

warnings-> infidelity. age gap! (reader’s age isn’t explicitly said but she’s younger than Steve). poorly & awkwardly written SMUT. (includes: unprotected sex, brief fingering, slight breeding kink). rambles. angst. fluff. lots of tension. bittersweet ending :)

A/N -> for smut part, please scroll if you are not 18+. MINORS DNI

word count -> 12k+ !!! this one’s a lengthy one & i had no intentions of turning it into a series. it just got long.

Buy Me A Kofi

At the ripe age of five-years-old, you were plucked from your childhood, abandoning all the childish whims and adventures to be groomed to be the perfect wife. No more rolling in the dirt with your older brothers or mucking about the stables with the horses or fencing with sticks that substituted the steel bladed swords.

It all quickly became sewing needles and recipes, cleaning and books balanced on your crown.

You were taught it all.

How to behave. How to stand or sit. How to greet and host. How to exist in silence because “a lady is to be seen and never heard,” as your teacher, Madam Morris, would say. The many lessons were engraved into your mind while the meaningless tasks and skills became muscle memory.

Be pious. Be kind. Smile. Be what your husband wants. Laugh. (no, not like that). Do as your husband says. Be interesting but not too much. Never overshadow your husband. Don’t disappoint or you will bring shame upon your family.

What a burden to place on the shoulders of a young teen though it was expected of you. Coming from an aristocratic family, it was all you ever knew: “get a husband and make us proud”.

As the years droned on and you approached adulthood, the pressure to marry became more and more prominent. And when you shed past your teen years as an unmarried young adult, the disappointment and shame began to show. Your family throwing distaste your way with snide remarks and mocking smirks.

The embarrassment felt as if it had been painted across your cheeks and you grew restless, convincing yourself to accept any opportunities of marriage just to be rid of their cruelty.

So, when the Prince of Arachnia arrived at your father’s estate and asked for permission to court you, you had no choice but to accept.

Prince Peter Benjamin Parker was nothing short of the perfect gentleman. As you walked, he’d ensure that you were safely tucked into his side opposite of the streets. He’d hold your hand steady as you exited carriages. He’d leave chaste kisses on your forehead or knuckles – almost always on your left ring finger – even though your chaperone would throw a disapproving glance his way.

You thought of him as charming with his tousled, dark brown curls with matching eyes that squinted as he smiled or laughed harder than he intended.

“He would make a great king someday,” your father would sing his praises. “And you, my dove, will be his fine queen.”

You were never fond of these comments, never finding any appreciation or gratitude when they were uttered to you. Though the thought of being queen would make any young girl giddy with excitement, you found an odd sensation of dread within you.

You weren’t sure where the feelings had originated from. Were you nervous about being a queen? About the responsibility of running not only an estate but an entire country as well? Or was it the fact you would forever be labeled as his queen rather than the queen? Did you detest the idea of belonging to another person for the rest of your life?

“Are you alright?” His voice brought you back into the present. You swallowed as you turned away from the window facing the garden of roses that your mother was so proud of to face the prince. You curtseyed although he’s told you many times it was unnecessary.

“I’m grand,” you lied with a weary smile though he bought it all the same.

Peter grinned a toothy smile as he took your hand in his. It was then you felt the weight of the engagement ring on your finger. The sapphire blue was an oval shape, large enough to cover the skin of your knuckle. The center jewel adorned a halo of smaller diamonds. All this sitting on the delicate white gold band that wrapped around your finger like a shackle.

He brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss upon the sapphire. “I shall be counting down the days,” he whispered in the quiet room. You forced another smile and nodded.

“As will I.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

Arachnia wasn’t a large country nor was it tiny either. It had eight main roads that extended into the towns with the capital and its palace in the center. It had been said that the main roads were all equal in length so that everyone was at an equal distance from the palace though you weren’t so sure that there was truth to this. Your father’s estate sat near the south of Arachnia, in one of the nicer towns. The ride to Peter’s real home felt like an eternity.

It had been his idea, of course, that you be brought to the palace months ahead of the wedding. “Life in the castle is different to life in the towns,” he told you before, weeks into your courtship, “Everyone’s always watching.” He reasoned that the prying eyes needed to get used to the presence of his future queen, but you understood it all the same – that although it was crucial that you adjust to court, it was equally, if not more so, important that the court adjust to you.

“I will give you the grand tour,” he said as you put your head on his shoulder. The journey, although short, had picked at your energy. All you wanted was to close your eyes and sleep, but his excited chatter kept pulling you back into consciousness. As much as you wanted to tell him to pipe down, you knew you couldn’t. Not only was he your husband to be, but he was also your soon to be king. “There’s fountains and gardens – I had them plant roses like the ones in your mother’s – “

The words became muddled nonsense as you slowly dozed off. The journey and your sleepless night, picking at the skin on your fingers, had finally caught up to you, making your eyelids heavy with sleep.

You jolted awake as the carriage hit a bump. You and Peter’s head slammed into each other, waking you both. You groaned, rubbing the spot as he mirrored you.

“You alright?” Peter asked you. You nodded, still rubbing the spot. Peter leaned over and kissed it and you gave him a tight-lipped smile. “You’ve been rather quiet. Is there something on your mind?”

You shook your head. “No, your highness,” you said. “I am just a bit nervous, is all.”

“Don’t be.” Peter chuckled. “The kingdom will fall in love with you just as I have.”

“And if they do not? Shall you find another bride?”

Peter’s smile faltered before shaking his head. “Those who do not immediately fall for my queen are mad and I shall find them the greatest court physician to treat their delusions.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You placed your head against his and took in a shaky breath.

There it was again. My queen. Another reminder that you no longer belonged to yourself. That as soon as vows are exchanged and he places another band on top of the enormous ring you already wore, you were completely his to own.

And suddenly that sweet moment, wrapped in your fiancé’s arms, was cut short as that familiar feeling of dread washed over you.

»————-　⚜　————-«

After weeks following your arrival in the center of Arachnia, it still didn’t feel like your home, rather it was Peter’s. The maids didn’t follow your orders nor did the kitchen staff. Heavens knows that the knights and the other noblemen wouldn’t acknowledge you. It felt as if no one knew your name, save for Prince Peter and his aunt, Lady May Parker.

You were merely a stranger in their court, the soon to be king’s guest.

Although the preparations for Peter’s coronation should’ve been your duty, Lady Parker seized the job, citing that you weren’t the queen just yet. “Let me alleviate you of this, Lady (Y/N).” She told you with a smile. “After your marriage, I shall step aside and allow you all the duties as the lady of the castle.” And in many ways, you were grateful that this was not your responsibility for the coronation of Prince Peter Parker had been long awaited for.

After Peter’s uncle, King Benjamin, passed and with Peter’s father long gone before then, the young prince was suddenly eyed to be the king. However, the councilmen thought that the boy was too young – too green to be king. They waited years until Peter came of age and once he finally did, they refused a peaceful transition of power. Instead, there were harsh rumors that the kingdom would be handed to Brooklyn’s King.

This debacle led to rumors of unrest and threats of civil war. It felt as if the entire continent held its breath as it stared at Arachnia, waiting for the violence to begin.

If King Anthony of Starken and Lady Parker did not intervene, then there would’ve been lives lost and a country torn. An agreement was made between House Parker and their council: that before Peter may take the throne, he must either be married or engaged, so that the line of succession may be secured.

And with your presence and Peter’s sapphire ring, the crown became his in an instant.

Nearly three weeks before his coronation, lords and ladies along with royals from other countries flocked to Arachnia to celebrate its king.

Lady Parker and Prince Peter introduced you to so many people in the coming days that none of their names truly stuck. All except one.

King Steven Rogers of Brooklyn.

The tall, broad man strode through the castle halls. His royal blue clothes made his eyes pop in the daylight. You thought he was beautiful. His presence demanded attention and he walked with a knowing smirk. Cocky. Arrogant. You profiled as he stood in front of Peter, towering over him.

Peter, still a prince, bowed to him as you did. “You’re younger than I expected.” The King’s voice was contradicting to his loud presence. His tone was even and steady like soft currents of a river or the expert strokes of a painter upon a canvas. You didn’t realize he was speaking to you until Peter called your name.

“King Steven, allow me to introduce my bride to be, Lady (Y/N).” Peter’s brow glistened with sweat though he stood tall. He was nervous. You could tell by the way his pitch was higher than it usually was. Under the king’s eye, he felt inferior. Insecure, even. Because although Peter was charming and slender, King Steven was intimidatingly handsome and built. Peter looked like a prince whereas Steven exuded the confidence of the king and looked like it, too.

You knew of the history between Brooklyn and Arachnia. There had been rumors that if Prince Peter could not get the crown, that the entire country would become part of Brooklyn’s, part of this other king’s domain.

“It’s a pleasure, my lady,” the king smiled at you and your eyes rounded as butterflies erupted from your stomach. He took your hand in his and you felt goosebumps rise all over your skin. A nervous, ragged breath escaped you as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss upon your knuckles like Peter’s done a million times.

But your reaction was different. Your face went hot, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You could feel it between your legs, a feeling you had never felt before. Pulsing. Throbbing.

King Steven’s hand lingered over yours for a few seconds more, thumb grazing your skin and over the sapphire. You suddenly felt embarrassed – as beautiful as the ring was, it was so large that it looked odd on your dainty hand.

“Beautiful ring,” he complimented with a nod to Peter. “Excellent taste.” It wasn’t clear if the king was complimenting the ring or the young woman who wore it and no one dared question such a distinguished man.

You pulled your hand away from his with a bow of your head. You couldn’t look him in the eye for a second more. “Thank you for joining us, your majesty.”

The king smiled at your fiancé before nodding. “I look forward to your coronation, Peter. I’m sure it’ll be a pleasant event.”

You forced a smile as you and your fiancé greeted the next guest. The pleasantries and introductions fell upon deaf ears because as you looked up, searching through the crowd, your eyes immediately found his already staring back at you.

»————-　⚜　————-«

It felt as if there was a party every single day. A festival in the courtyard. A feast every night. You began to wonder where was all this money coming from – were the people being taxed heavily for the enjoyment of the upper class? Lady Parker assured you that Arachnia was well funded and that where the expenses exceeded their budget, they were handled by King Anthony, who considered it an early marriage present.

You sat like a decorated ornament next to Peter, surrounded by the other royals at a round table. You felt out of place in a gown made from your town’s finest tailor whereas the queens and princesses around you wore one-of-a-kind pieces. You were reminded, again, that you were just an aristocrat’s daughter, the fiancé of a king sitting among the men and women that bards wrote songs about.

You felt as if you were set to be the butt of the joke in another round of ridicule as King Anthony drew his attention from teasing Peter to you.

“You,” he began, words a bit slurred due to the ale in his overflowing cup, “are very gorgeous. My love,” he directed to his wife, Queen Virginia, “don’t you agree?”

“Yes, you are a delight, Lady (Y/N).” The strawberry blonde smiled at you. You returned the smile, timidly.

“Likewise, your majesty,” you returned before nodding your head to the rest of the table. “All of you are wonderful.” Truthfully, many of their names went over your head and to save yourself the embarrassment, you refrained from calling any of them by name, only saying simple titles like your majesty and my lord or lady.

“Lady (Y/N),” the princess from the foreign land, Sokovia you think, called your attention. You believe her name was Wanda, or at least that was what the King of Hawksview called her. “Are you excited for whatever adventures marriage will bring you?” Her tone was drunk and teasing. It was clear what she was alluding to though you weren’t quite sure if you caught on.

“Oh, dear,” Peter chuckled, awkwardly, obviously understanding. His face a beet red as he patted your hand that sat on your lap. “Dove, you do not need to answer.”

“Dove?” King Steven, the one man you knew by name, questioned from across the round table. He sat directly in front of you and you swore he sat there deliberately.

“It’s what my father calls me,” you explained though your voice was a bit scratchy, your throat dry. You coughed before taking a sip from your barely touched ale, finding the taste quite revolting. You shifted uncomfortably in the seat as you felt the prying eyes of the Brooklyn King stare through you as if you were glass.

“Dove.” He repeated, trying the petname out. “Sweet. Innocent.”

“Oh, you stop teasing, Steve,” the woman with dark red hair rolled her eyes. You remembered her being called Nat though you did remember her from your history lessons. Queen Natalia Romanova of Widow’s Peak, the queen who paved the way for women on the battlefield. She was revered and you were in awe when you met her.

“If we’re teasing, shall we jest about how Steven has yet to marry?” The prince from Asgard laughed. He pushed his long black hair over his shoulder as his older brother, the blonde – the King – swatted at his forearm with the back of his hand as if to say be quiet.

Steven smirked, eyes shifting to his lap, before chuckling. “Laugh and tease all you want,” he said, grabbing his cup and bringing it to his lips.

“Why is it you haven’t married?” Queen Natasha’s husband, Bruce – you think – asked.

Attention shifted back to Brooklyn’s king as he shrugged, taking another swig from his cup. His eyes darted around the table as if gaging – studying – the group.

You found it odd. Many of the royals around you considered the others their closest friends, yet here he was, a mystery to them still. It was as if he was content with going unseen and unheard. You could understand.

“C’mon, Stevie,” King Anthony taunted with a pet name. The blonde’s jaw tensed for a moment but quickly released. You frowned at that – was there tension between the two kings? “Handsome, wealthy king with vast holdings and a powerful kingdom, yet no marriage? It’s like you’re not trying, Steven.”

The Brooklyn king chuckled again, brows lifting with an amused look. His eyes met yours and you felt your face go hot again. Your gown shifted underneath the table as your knee bumped Peter’s when you crossed your legs. He looked away.

“I would not get married simply because I need a crown,” his eyes shifted to Peter before shifting back to his cup, “or I need an alliance, or my country requires finances or resources. Brooklyn’s striving under my rule.” He said it so calmly and smugly as if he weren’t throwing condescending comments about his friends’ marriages right in front of them.

“If I were to get married,” Steven’s ocean eyes met yours again like the waves crashing into a shore, “it would be because I’m in love.”

You shifted in your seat, that pulsing, throbbing ache returning as you held his stare. You bit your lip before nervously breaking the eye contact to pick at the bread roll on your plate.

You suddenly jumped when Peter draped his arm around your shoulder, completely unaware that he was about to do so, too preoccupied to appear occupied. He shot you a worried glance, but you gave him a tight smile and a nod.

“Well, I, for one,” he smiled, “am marrying for love.” Peter pressed a kiss to your temple, and you felt your smile drop for a second. Just a mere second – maybe even less.

No one noticed, you assured yourself with a relieved exhale. You scanned the round table to find that everyone smiled at you and your fiancé with dopey grins, staring at the two children in love. However, Steven’s was different.

No… The king had a knowing smirk on his face as if to say, I saw.

»————-　⚜　————-«

With the coronation in a fortnight, you and Peter found yourselves on edge. Your shoulders always felt tense which left an ache in your neck, leaving you to rub out the knots but to no avail.

Peter’s nerves made him jittery. During meals, his leg bounced up and down with nerves. The sudden movement often shaking the table, leaving you in an annoyed silence. To cope with his pending coronation nerves, the young prince whisked himself into meaningless tasks and hobbies in hopes to distract himself.

Unfortunately, this meant that he often left you to yourself, leaving you to dwell in your unease on your own.

You confided in Lady Parker about your nerves though she returned your concern with a small frown. “You aren’t getting coronated, why are you nervous?” She chuckled dismissively. You nearly snapped then but was able to stop yourself before saying anything offensive to Lady Parker.

Deciding that your thoughts were better left unsaid, you isolated yourself in the stairwell on the south wing of the castle. In your time here at Arachnia, this quickly became your favorite spot. The south wing was nowhere near the bustling crowds of guests and their parties, making it the quietest place in the castle at times. There was a wide window that stood above the stairs; it brought in gorgeous sunlight and you often found yourself basking in its warmth.

However, with your troubled thoughts, the south wing stairwell’s window brought you no comfort at all as you gnawed on the bump on the inside of your cheek. It was a habit you picked up when you were being taught to be a lady – a lady is to be seen and never heard – so you opted to biting back your opinions and retorts, whether it be physical or metaphorical.

Though Lady Parker was right, the coronation was Peter’s worry alone, it would not only be Peter that would be judged and watched by the entire continent the moment that crown is on his head. Even now as a mere lady, the fiancé of their soon to be king, you were burdened with such scrutiny and you were sure that this would only increase three-fold once Peter was crowned king.

The pressures would only worsen once you were dubbed Peter’s queen.

So, you sat pensively in your thoughts near the top of the stairs as you enjoyed the last few months of peace you had left.

“For an engaged woman, I do find you alone too many times,” a voice took you from your thoughts as it carried through the empty stairwell. You looked up and met the amused smirk of King Steven Rogers.

You stood up from your spot and found your footing at the top of the staircase before you curtseyed. “Your majesty,” you greeted.

“Most brides tend to cling to their fiancé, fighting to be by their side every waking moment,” the king mused, quirking an eyebrow up, “but not you.”

“I suppose.”

“May I?” He gestured to the unoccupied seat next to you. You bit your lip before nodding, sitting down again, but this time with the king’s warmth next to you. “Is something on your mind, Lady (Y/N)?”

“No, your majesty,” you said a bit too quickly and he saw through you.

He tutted, knowingly. “I know a troubled lady when I see one,” he pressed. “Please, my lady, speak freely as if I am just a friend.”

“I hadn’t realized I was friends with a king,” you muttered. You felt his eyes on you as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and stared at your lap.

The conversation stilled as the silence built, but you found comfort in the king’s presence. Although his eyes made you uneasy and nervous, he brought you a strange sense of peace.

His soft chuckle pulled you from your thoughts again. “Lady (Y/N).” He said your name and you glanced over at him with a brow cocked up. “I noticed that you don’t speak, not often, at least.”

“I was taught to never speak unless spoken to.”

He scoffed. “That’s a habit that you’ll grow out of.” He saw confusion flash through your expression and smiled, gently. “A strong, respected queen demands attention as she enters a room. Every step she takes must be a stride of confidence so that no one ever questions her status.”

“A status that my husband, the king, gives me. I cannot over-step. I would undermine him.”

“Peter’s a king,” Steven corrected. “I never said you would over-step, but a true king would ensure that he and his queen are in equal footing.” He cocked his head to the side as he noticed your grimace. “You don’t like that.”

“I beg your pardon?” You asked before quickly added, “your majesty.”

“Being called his queen,” he clarified with a smile.

Panicked, you began, “I am humbled to wear his ring on my finger – that he considered me for marriage and that – “

“You are not on trial,” he interrupted, quickly with a laugh. “It’s merely an observation.” You nodded, awkwardly. “In my opinion, I feel as if a marriage – any marriage, whether royal or otherwise – is a partnership, but unfortunately, many see it as an ownership.”

“That’s just not how our society sees it.” You muttered with a shake of your head.

“Where is your fiancé? It’s too often that I find you alone. I shall share a word with him about his manners.” He joked and you laughed lightly at his attempt to lighten the mood.

You sighed, fidgeting with the sapphire on your finger. “He’s … preoccupied.”

Steve frowned at that but abruptly stood, stretching his hand out to you. “Then, come, my lady, I shall escort you to the festival to enjoy this beautiful day.”

Your hands flew to your face as you shook your head, defiantly. “Oh, god no!” You groaned. He amusedly raised his eyebrows at you. “I hate leaving the castle to join the others… Everyone just stares at me. It’s unsettling!”

Steve laughed and leaned down to pull you to your feet. Although you stood at the top of the staircase and he a few steps beneath you, he was still taller than you.

“They’re admiring their future queen,” he tried. He took your hands in his and you felt a shiver run down your spine as the goosebumps rose. “And from where I stand, I must say, she is truly a vision… Even if she’s moping.”

The butterflies didn’t cease to exist as they fluttered excitedly under his stare. You bit your lip and avoided eye contact, staring at your hands clasped in his. His words lifted your confidence, but his presence made you nervous and you didn’t quite understand why.

He whispered your name; fingers reaching out beneath your chin and lifted your chin. Blue eyes staring deep into your wide ones and for a split second he glanced down at your lips.

“You can tell me to stop.”

He was so close to you. Your noses were nearly touching.

“What if I don’t want you to?” You whispered. You held your breath, but he gladly stole it as he pressed his soft, plump lips onto yours.

You swore it was almost instinct… It had to be. You moved in sync. With your lips pressed against his, you felt this feeling of belonging – something you hadn’t felt in all your time in the palace of Arachnia, in all your life. In all your time spent with Peter, it never felt like this.

Your hands fisted his dirty blonde hair as his hands cupped your face, holding you there… keeping you in the moment and you swore time stopped.

You were breathless when you finally pulled away. Eyes wide in realization.

You had just given your first kiss away to a man that wasn’t your fiancé and there was no ounce of regret in either of you.

»————-　⚜　————-«

Time passed so slowly when all you’d wish for was that it’d up – skipping to a time where you and Peter were already married and the royals have all vacated Arachnia and back to their own lands, where the king that occupied your mind was long gone.

In the days that followed, you avoided each like the plague. You’d turn the corner and see Peter then immediately turn the other way or you’d bow your head down so low so that you could avoid Steven’s fixated stare as you passed him in the corridors.

The only time you couldn’t escape the two was during meals. Although during breakfast and lunch you usually spent alone, it was during the feasts of dinner that you could not escape the lingering stare of King Steven nor the possessive arm of Prince Peter.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Peter whispered in your ear. You were guilt-ridden as you stared at the concern that filled his deep brown eyes. You muttered that you were alright just a bit tired although under the king’s eyes you have never felt more alive. But he accepted your answer nonetheless.

“Are we interrupting,” teased King Anthony with a playful grin. “Shall we order the absence of everyone in the room so that you two may have all the privacy in the world?” His wife slapped his shoulder with a chuckle as you and Peter bashfully apologized – Peter because he was truly embarrassed for being caught whispering in your ear and you because you felt Steven’s eyes staring through your soul. “Tell us, Lady (Y/N), how did such a lovely lady such as yourself end up with a brute of a prince like Peter?”

You swallowed as all their attention turned to you. You stared across the table at King Steven who eyed you with a smirk. His elbows rested on the table with his hands clasped together, head resting on top of his knuckles, as if taunting you, egging you on. You tore your eyes away as you focused on your lap.

“Well… uh – “

“We met at her brother’s party,” Peter announced, proudly. You took your cue and nodded with a small grin and kept silent. “My father and hers were friends before he passed, and so they invited my aunt and I. We had no choice but to accept, and thankfully, we did. She was truly a sight, this one.” You forced a laugh as the other chuckled. “I knew then she had to be mine, this little dove.”

You grimaced but quickly covered it up by grabbing your cup of untouched ale. Your eyes flicked over to Steven who was already staring at you. He cocked an eyebrow up at you as your eyes met. You brought the ale to your lips and he stared as your lips pressed against the rip of the chalice but never drank anything.

The conversation drifted to another topic, but you excused yourself, telling Peter you were exhausted. He nodded with a smile and leaned in to kiss you and your eyes widened, turning your head – had he wanted your first kiss to be in front of all these people? Marking you as his? His lips pressed against your cheek and you muttered goodbye to him and bid a goodnight to the others.

You wondered aimlessly throughout the corridors, lost in your thoughts. With everyone in the grand hall for dinner, the castle was felt empty, and your shoes clicked against the tiles and echoed through the halls. After minutes of silent walking, you felt the hairs at the back of your neck prick up and goosebumps run down your arms.

You turned to find the dark hallway staring back at you. You frowned before you turned and ran into a sturdy build of a man.

“I thought you retired for the night?” and you recognized the voice immediately.

“Your majesty,” you whispered, bowing awkwardly to King Steven.

He chuckled as you apologized frantically. He shushed you, seizing your hands but you snatched them away. Steven frowned. “You’re avoiding me.”

“What happened shouldn’t have happened,” you hissed.

A playful smirk replaced his scowl as he tilted his head, tauntingly. “But you could’ve stopped me. You could’ve said no.”

“Of course,” you chuckled dryly. “It’s always the woman’s fault. Men can never take responsibility for their misdoings and kings,” you spat out as if it were poison on your tongue. “are no better.”

“Was it your first kiss?”

Your tongue darted out and wet your bottom lip and you didn’t miss the way his eyes glanced down. Embarrassment washed over you like a wave as your shoulders slumped. Were you that bad?

“It was, wasn’t it?” He smiled. “I wouldn’t have known… but you were a natural – “

“Don’t flatter me.” You snapped and he laughed.

“So, I had the honor of being your first kiss…” He muttered. Steven’s hand grabbed your bicep, which was significantly smaller than his, and pulled you closer to him.

“Your majesty – “He shushed you as he kissed you again in that corridor, but you pulled away abruptly, not allowing yourself to melt into him. “We can’t. I am engaged to the prince.”

Steven rolled his eyes. “But you don’t want to be. Others may dismiss it as nerves, cold feet, even, but,” he tsked, “I know better.”

“You don’t know me. You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.” He whispered. “Enough to know that I want you.”

“I have to be married to the prince. I wear his ring. I live in his castle.”

“And enjoy a loveless marriage? He can dote on you and you can learn to love him, yes… I’ve seen it in my parents’ union and in my friends’, but you’ll never truly be happy, no…” He told you, brows furrowed and shook his head.

“And I’d be happy as your mistress?” You scoffed, shaking your head, but you made no motions to step away. “A noblewoman reduced to nothing but a king’s play-thing? The dishonor, the shame – “

“I never said you’d be my mistress.” Steven shook his head as he cupped your jaw.

“And you intend to marry me?” You laughed as if he had said the funniest joke you’ve ever heard. And it was. It was hilarious to think that he was being anything but truthful. You were sure he was jesting with you. Empty words. Empty promises. But his stare was serious.

“I want you.”

“You want the idea of me,” you corrected. “The idea that you can take another king’s wife. Kings throughout history are all the same. Covet another man’s wife, his property, or his land. Just to prove you are better.” You shook your head. “It’s a pissing contest for you. It’s treason for me.”

“I am a king.” He told you and you rolled your eyes.

“Not mine.” You whispered. “Your teasing, your jokes. Your eyes… they linger in a way only Peter’s should, and it has to stop.”

“I want you.” He repeated. “And I know you want me, too.”

“I don’t – “

“Or else you would’ve walked away. You could’ve pulled your arm from me – I’m not holding onto you tightly. You could’ve run off to your little prince, but you’re avoiding him, too. Is it guilt, my lady?” He asked you, leaning down and whispering into your ear. Your breath hitched as his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, kissing the skin beneath it. “Because you know you don’t want the boy… but you’re too kind to hurt him.”

“You’re trying to get me killed.” You stifled a moan as his lips left a trail of wet kisses down your neck. “Shunned and humiliated – “

“I want to be yours,” he confessed.

A sudden burst of laughter had you jump from each other. Your back pressed against the wall as he took a step back with a smirk. In the distance, you could hear drunken men and their courtesans stumble about the castle, doors slamming shut. The feast must’ve been over, and the halls were soon to be crowded again.

You two held each other’s stares as you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The moonlight that slipped through the curtains of the windows had his deep blue eyes gleaming and he was marvelous view.

»————-　⚜　————-«

The room was stuffy and the jewelry that adorned your neck and wrists were heavy. They weighed you down as if to remind you of the pressures that your new life held – what lay ahead of you. The dress you wore was a combination of white and gold. You looked regal like the betrothed of a king should look like. You stood in the crowd next to King Anthony and his wife, behind you was King Steven and his piercing stare.

The feelings that you held for Steven were wrong and you knew that. You often wished that Peter had been flawed – an unfaithful man or a cruel one but he was the opposite. He was kind and gentle albeit a bit dismissive or not present at times. The guilt gnawed at you each time you and the Brooklyn king met behind closed doors, or in the secluded library, or in the depths of the rose garden, planted especially for you by Peter’s order, but you didn’t care.

It was innocent, really – at least that’s what you told yourself. The meetings always started the same. Bickering and joking. He had even taken an interest in tutoring you about chess – “a game for kings,” he would say. Although he had beat you every game, you never minded because all the meetings ended the same – with your lips pressed against his and you melting into his touch.

The crowds all stood as Peter entered the throne room. He was dressed as a king in his house colors – red, blue, gold. He was sweaty and his hands were clasped together nervously. He shot a glance your way as he walked by and you gave him a soft, encouraging nod. He returned it with a smile as he kneeled before the throne.

The priest slipped a ring on his finger and he was later handed the scepter and the orb. You caught the way the scepter slipped due to his clammy hands – not too much but just enough to have him fumble. Behind you, you heard Steven chuckle and you shot him a look as if to tell him to behave and he shook his head at you with a grin.

The crown was placed onto Peter’s head and he hesitantly stood. He was unbalanced, weighed down, but he took each step towards the throne with stride and a proud smile.

“Long live the king!” You and the entire crowd chanted in unison though you were almost certain that Steven didn’t say a word.

The party held afterwards was filled with dancing and music, but you were tied to Peter’s side the entire evening as he thanked his guests and accepted their congratulations, all eager to get in favor with their new king.

Instead of the usual round table, Peter and his family – Lady Parker and you – were seated in a long table at the front of the grand hall. The rest of the royals scattered in other tables near yours. You picked at your food, boredom sinking in as another nobleman approached.

You glanced up and met Steven’s eyes. He brought his chalice up as if to salute you and you softly laughed before turning your attention to the duke. The conversation was dull with fake pleasantries and complaints of lost land – Peter promised the duke that he would look into it. You remembered Steven tell you that kings should make no promises that he could not uphold. and you wondered if Peter had any intentions of honoring it.

“Do you want to dance?” Peter asked you after the man left, offering you his hand. You smiled and nodded, taking it.

He pulled you onto the dancefloor, joining the other couples. Peter’s hold on you was tight as if you would run away or disappear. The crown on his head was just a little big and would slip over his forehead. You’d giggle and push it back up.

He pulled you close to him and swayed to the music. “This is grand,” he told you. “The crown, a beautiful bride.” You hummed in agreement though you didn’t entirely adore the idea – not as much as you used to. You hated being compared to that awful crown as if you were just an accessory to him. “And … In a few days’ time, my dove, we are to be wed.”

“What?” You shook your head with a dry laugh, taking it as a joke. “Your high – majesty,” you corrected, and he beamed at the title, “we are set to be married in the late spring. Not in a few days.”

Peter frowned. “Had no told you?” You shook your head, no. He sighed. “I suppose I should’ve… The council believes that it’s best we get married immediately. Now, that I’ve got the crown, they say I need heirs,” you blanched at the idea, “and besides, the other royal families of Marvel are already here.” Your breath hitched as the realization set it. “Well, aside from King Steven, he’s one to never attend weddings.”

“Peter – “you shook your head. The panic beginning to rise. Despite being trained for this very day since you were young, you were convinced you weren’t ready. You told yourself the anxiety was from the idea of being queen, but the truth was – the anxiety was from the idea of being wed… to Peter.

“May I cut in?” You didn’t hear Peter’s response just that a pair of familiar hands seized yours and your waist, pulling you flush against his body. “Are you okay?”

You stared up at Steven’s worried eyes, brows lifted and lines of concern all over his forehead. You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. You hated the idea that you would be Peter’s completely, and that Steven would never be yours.

“Peter said we are to be wed in a few days,” you uttered. The words didn’t feel right. Your voice was shaking as you held back your tears. Steven’s jaw dropped before he nodded. “Steve,” his eyes stared into yours, “I don’t want this.”

“And what is it do you want?” Steven asked you. He was hopeful although naively so. And in many ways, you were as well to believe that your affections for Steven could extend to something more. But reality set in, you were engaged to a king – just not the king you wanted.

“I want to marry you,” you confessed though voice hushed, afraid that any ears would hear your treasonous words. You let out a shaky breath as you stared at him before shaking your head. The idea that you fell in love with a man after knowing him for only three weeks was preposterous. “Or at least… that I want to be with you.”

Steven smiled softly at your confession – words he had been hoping to hear ever since he cornered you in the empty hallway. He leaned in and your eyes widened, but he brought his lips to your ear and whispered, “keep your chamber doors unlocked tonight.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

One of the peculiar things about your move to Arachnia’s palace was your bedroom. It was rather enormous for the fiancé of the now king. When you first arrived, you expected a room modest in size though not as big as this – especially since you’d move into Peter’s chambers once you were married. The mattress was pressed against the back wall between two large windows that never opened. Bookshelves filled with novels though no work area – no desk or study. Instead, you were given a vanity. Besides those pieces, the room was pure empty space.

You used to joke to yourself that you were just a prisoner who adorned the prince’s, now king’s, jewels and a fine title.

You stood by the window, watching the fireworks that celebrated the coronation. You swore you could see the towns in the distance, all lit up with anticipation. Peter would soon be making his rounds throughout the country as its official king. Would it happen before you were married or after? Would you be asked to join him as his queen?

You stared down at your ring finger. The sapphire staring tauntingly back at you. It shackled you to a man you didn’t want. It reminded you of your family’s side eyes and low whispers when you didn’t immediately get married once you were of age, or the hushed voices and stares of the other nobles as they judged your every move calling you unworthy to marry a prince, let alone a king.

And all you could think was – to hell with it all.

A soft knock was heard from the wooden door of the chamber and you walked towards it. The stone tiles were cold against your bare feet and the doorknob even colder against your already freezing hand. With a twist of the doorknob, a smile formed on your lips as Steven came to view.

You hurriedly pulled him inside, eyes scanning the now empty hallway, before closing it.

He eyed you up and down and smiled, admiring you – hair undone and natural, face free of any makeup or colors staining your cheeks or lips, no gown with a corset that clung onto your body that left you with no room to breathe.

You were beautiful and oh, how he’d kill to see you like this every day.

“Did anyone see you?” You asked him, softly, though within the thick walls of the castles and in the privacy of your chambers no one would hear you.

Steven shook his head, one hand finding your waist and the other cupping the side of your face. “They never do, do they?” He whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

You pulled away, leaning into his chest, settling into his warmth. You loved being in his embrace – it was safe and warm like a small cottage in the countryside with no judgmental stares or rumors whispered about.

You realize you could live like this until your last day – and with your intentions, that final day might be quickly approaching. “Why is it you asked to meet me here?”

Steven’s jaw ticked. Truthfully, he had no real answer. He could’ve asked to meet anywhere, and the risks were just the same. The mere act of meeting you in private was damning, no matter what he intended.

He thought that admiring you from across a crowded room, under the cover of hundreds all staring at you, too, would be enough. He thought his eyes would go unnoticed. He told himself that his attraction would be fleeting, but it wasn’t – and it became clear the moment he pressed his lips against yours at the top of the south stairwell.

“Steve?”

He sighed. “I… I’m not quite sure if I’m honest with you, Lady (Y/N).”

You smiled to yourself. In the time you’ve known King Steven, he had always been so smug, so confident. Every step had a direction and every word so sure, but you’ve reduced him to a man begging for the affection of a woman.

You pulled yourself from his chest and stared up at him before you stood on the tips of your toes to press a kiss onto his lips.

It was as if you two were molded together or made from the same cloth. Lips pressed together as if they had always belonged there.

His large hands found the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up, wrapping your legs around his tapered waist. You felt the heat rise to your face when that familiar throbbing feeling between your legs came back – and with your cunt pressed against the middle of his body, you were sure he could feel it, too.

Your back pressed against the soft, silk sheets of your bed. Steven draped over you like ivy covering the castle’s stone walls.

The framework creaked beneath your combined weight as he began to grind aimlessly against your center, eliciting a gasp from you as it helped the ache from deep within you.

He smirked into the kiss, but you caught him off guard yet again when you whispered, “I – I want you.” He pulled away, taken back. “I want all of you, Steve, please – “

“(Y/N) – “

He began to climb off you, but you sat up, hands cupping his face and staring deep into his eyes. You shook your head as you gave him a quick kiss.

Foreheads touching, you told him, “if I am to go marry and live in this hell, I might as well be granted a taste of heaven.”

“You will be ruined – “he whispered though the idea made his cock twitch in his trousers. You jumped as you felt it too.

You shook your head again, “how can you ruin anything, Steve?”

Steve licked his lips as he tried to fight off his morals. The devil and the angel on his shoulders disappeared and became one – the beautiful maiden beneath him, begging for him to take her.

“If we do this,” he whispered as he nudged your cheek, lips kissing your jaw, “there will be no going back, (Y/N).”

“I want to be yours, Steve,” you told him, honestly. “I – I love you.”

And that’s all it took to have his lips ravish yours, hands roaming, desperately grabbing on to what he could. He pulled away and grabbed your hand. He slid the ring off your finger, tossing it onto the table next to your bed before he pressed his lips to yours once again.

You heard a rip and you gasped as the cold air hit your bare skin. Steven’s hands pushed the torn fabric off away from your body, throwing the ruined white silk behind his shoulder.

He pulled away from you, admiring the view beneath him – the woman spread out before him like an offering, nipples perked in the cold winter air, mouth ajar as she panted, and the perfect, untouched pussy.

“I love you, too.”

He began to undress, and you couldn’t take your eyes off this Herculean being in front of you. He was thick and broad, the muscles that were arranged all over his body were hypnotizing as were the scars undoubtfully from all his training and his time spent in wars.

He was a god in the body of the king, and you wondered how you got so lucky.

Steven began to undo the strings that held his pants up and you watched with you lip between your teeth. The anticipation, alone, killed you. He pushed down his pants and your eyes widened at his massive cock – tanner than the rest of his skin, with a red angry tip, thick veins, and clear liquid coming from it.

He saw your uncertain expression and he raised his brows at you. “I – I –“you began to stammer.

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out now, little one,” Steven whispered. His hands reached out and cupped your cheek, hungry eyes scanned your body and your mouth went dry. The throbbing within you was relentless and made you clench your thighs together. “You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes looked away, bashfully, as his hands explored you – cupping your breasts and tracing the curves of your body. All Steven wanted was for all of you to be his.

“Look at me,” he whispered, and you hesitantly looked back at him. He had a soft smile and adoring eyes as his fingers slipped through your folds. You let out a soft gasp and your eyes fluttered closed as the ache was relieved by his touch. “Look at me,” Steven repeated, and you forced your eyes open to stare at him. Your lover smirked as he found your small bundle of nerves and rubbed tight circles around it.

It felt as if something within you had blossomed and you couldn’t help but grind into his touch, but he tutted at you, using his free hand to hold your hips down. “You’re soaked, my love,” Steven whispered, leaning down, and nipping at the base of your neck. Hard enough for you to gasp but not enough to leave marks. “Already so wet and I’ve yet to do anything.”

“It’s just my reaction to you,” you confessed, heat rising to your face.

You tried to avert your eyes away from his piercing stare, but he tsked and pinched your inner thigh. You hissed in return and brought your stare back to him. “Don’t make me tell you again, (Y/N),” Steven warned.

You nodded, speechless as his fingers wandered further down, ghosting over your untouched opening. You let out a shaky breath.

“Steven – “you moaned as he sunk one long, thick, skilled finger inside of you.

“You’re so tight,” the king noted with a smirk. He relished in the idea that he would be the first to have you and he wished that he’d be the only one to have you forever.

“Steven, I want you… Please – “

He tsked at you with a quick shake of his head. His lips pressed against yours again, silencing your soft whines and protests. “I need to open you up, my love,” he told you, lips still against yours, “or else you might get hurt.” He pressed another finger into you, and you pulled away from his lips.

The back of your head pressed against the mattress as another moan escaped you. The king began to scissor your opening. The stretch was tolerable though still uncomfortable and had your breath shuddering.

“You’re doing so well,” he praised you, nose tracing your jaw. His lips kissed the column of your throat.

You groaned when his fingers began to thrust, opening you up to him. You heard the faint sound of your arousal on his fingers, the wetness spilling onto your thighs, too. Your hands tangled up into the king’s long, dark blonde hair, pulling him into you as he added a third finger, effectively stretching you out.

“Are you alright?” He asked you, fingers thrusting into you in a rhythm of their own. You nodded, eyes staring at the top of the canopy over your bed and hands pushing the king flush against you’re the joint between your neck and shoulder. He kissed the skin there, trying not to suck on it to leave you with his marks – marks that young Peter would undoubtfully see on your wedding night.

You gasped as you felt this tightening knot in the depths of your stomach. “You almost there, my love?” Steven asked and you nodded though you weren’t sure where there was. Your thighs tightened around him. You whined when his fingers left your heated core right on the precipice of pleasure, leaving you with an emptiness. Steven chuckled.

“I was – “

“First time you get to cum will be around my cock,” he told you brazenly and it felt as if your entire body flushed at his words. He brought his fingers to his lips and your eyes widened when he began to suck on them, and he groaned. “You taste so sweet, my lady.” The king quirked up an eyebrow at your curious expression as he swiped his fingers against your lips. “Have a taste, my love.”

Your tongue reluctantly darted out over your lips, gathering the sweet yet musky taste of your essence. Your hand reached out, wrapping around his wrist and bringing his fingers to your mouth. Your lips wrapped around his index and middle finger and sucked carefully as he did, and you felt his cock twitch against your thigh at the sight.

He watched you intently as you cleaned off his fingers, his free hand stroking his throbbing dick. He swiped the tip against your slit, causing your body to shudder when he bumped your clit.

He took his fingers from your mouth and both hands held your waist. Instinctively, your pushed your knees further apart, opening up to him. Steven’s blue eyes flicked up to you as he pressed his tip against your heat.

“Are you sure?” He asked you.

You nodded. “I’ve never been more sure.”

You threw your head back as he began to press into you, the pressure unbearable and made your entire body tense. The king began to hush you, holding still. One of his hands caressed the side of your face, combing through your hair. “You need to relax, my love,” he cooed.

You muttered an incoherent agreement as you tried to will your muscles to loosen. You heard the squelching sound of your cunt engulfing the man, slowly. Your hand flew to his wrist and grabbed onto it, unsure of what to do.

He praised you as the tip slipped in along with an inch or two, but he was nowhere close to bottoming out. The king began to pull back, only leaving the tip in before pushing in more of him. You hissed again as he pressed past the thin veil of your innocence, being the first and only man to tear through it.

His cock was no match for his fingers, being much thicker and so much longer. You tried to even your breathing and he chuckled. “You’re doing so well, my love,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your lips. “Taking me so well… Look…”

His nose nudged the side of your cheek and you slowly craned your neck to look down as he bottomed out completely – his public bone flush against your clit. Your mouth watered at the sight as he slowly pulled out an inch or two. You took a sharp breath when you saw the faint strips of red on his length.

The king began to rock into you slowly and you couldn’t take your eyes away from where you were connected. The pain, although still there from the burning stretch, was incomparable to the pleasure when his tip brushed against a certain part of your canal.

You moaned, loudly, head thrown back, exposing your throat to him. Steven kissed the hollowness before capturing your lips in his. “I love you,” he murmured into the kiss as his hips began to speed up. Your own matching his thrusts.

The sound of skin clapping against each other echoed throughout the enormous room and you felt yourself clench against him.

He groaned in return. In one quick motion, the king hoisted your knees over his shoulder, giving him a much deeper angle to take you from. He thrusted so hard and so deeply that you swore you felt him in your chest.

You moaned his name as your hands grabbed your breasts. He watched with a smirk as you fondled yourself and one of his hands began to rub tight circles around your swollen clit again. Your back arched at the sensation.

“I’m gonna fill you up, my love,” he told you. “Have you fall pregnant with my child. Watch you swell…” It was a fantasy, on Steven’s behalf. He’d always wanted a wife and children but never found the right partner until you. “Do you want that, little one? Do you want my children?”

“I want you, Steven,” you moaned. No coherent thoughts were forming as the familiar tight knot in your stomach suddenly snapped. Your hips ground up against his as your walls tightened around the king, milking him, and pushing him over the edge.

Steven thrusts faltered, leaving his rhythm, and pushed deeply into you one last time. You felt his cock twitch inside of you and you felt each spurt, covering your walls in his white.

You two laid on top each other, legs entangled, and bodies intertwined like lovers. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you said, “I love you, Steven.”

And in that moment, all was right.

»————-　⚜　————-«

“What?”

The disbelief in each of their tones hung in the air. The councilmen shook their heads in shock as Peter stared at you from the throne with his brows furrowed, deep in thought.

“I beg your pardon, Lady (Y/N).” One of the men said.

“My lords, my king,” you addressed with a bow of your head. “I asked for this meeting to tell you that I am incredibly humbled to have been homed here in the palace of Arachnia and to be the betrothed of the prince – king – to have witnessed you be crowned, your majesty… But I,” you swallowed and took a deep breath. “I do not want to marry you.”

“What brought this on?” Peter asked you as he leaned into his throne. He eyed you, suspiciously, eyes glancing over your figure. Although the new king had been wrapped up in several meetings ever since his coronation, he noticed the change in you – the way your body filled out, hips wider and the glow in your complexion. You looked more radiant than you usually were and much happier. Though he wasn’t sure what was the cause, he was certain it had not been him but he refused to believe it was another.

“I cannot believe this!”

“We’ve wasted all this time preparing a marriage!”

“How dare she – “

“He needs a bride to keep his crown.”

“Silence,” Peter ordered the men and their murmurs quickly disappeared. Words and unfinished sentences hung in the air. “What brought this on, my lady?”

You cleared your throat as you took a step forward. “Your majesty, I … I am not meant to be your queen.”

Peter nodded in contemplation and you were hopeful. He had always been understanding. He would’ve surely granted you a swift exit from this engagement without another – “No.” And just like that your hopes were dashed. “You are to remain my betrothed as you have been for months.”

“But Pete – “

“Our wedding is in days!” Peter snapped and your eyes flicked to the floor. “And you want to end our engagement now? You had months to concede – “

“I was afraid!” You objected. The lords stared on as your voice rose higher than the king’s. The tone, the higher octave, may have been from a moment of frustration, but the men in the throne room saw it as one thing only: a lady undermining her king.

“Afraid?” He scoffed. “Of what? Of me? My lady, I am not a cruel man – “

“Then grant me my wish. Release me from this engagement.” You begged.

“No.” Peter shook his head. “We are to be married in a few days’ time.” You saw how his kind eyes darkened as he frowned at you. “You do your best to rid of your cold feet now, my lady.”

Defeated, you rushed out of the throne room. Several servants and other nobles stared with confused expressions as you ran past with tears in your eyes – running to the only man that understood you, the only man that could help.

You banged against his chamber doors, desperate for him to whisk you away.

“Steven!” You called when the door suddenly opened to reveal a maid. Her arms were full of linens and you stared at her in confusion.

She quickly curtseyed to you and cocked her head to the side. “My lady, have you been crying?”

“No,” you shook your head, jaw clenched, though your sniffle gave you away. “Where’s King Steven?”

“He left this afternoon, my lady.” She told you.

“What?” You felt the color drain from your face. You shook your head at her as if she were wrong. He wouldn’t have left you – not like this. “No… There must be a mistake. Steven – King Steven – “

She frowned before shaking her head. “No, my lady… The Brooklyn King left hours ago. If you had wanted to know, I would’ve told you. I had no idea you two were so close.”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes. Though the maid had been kind in her intention, you heard the accusation loud and clear.

A shaky breath left you as you forced a smile. “No,” you said shaking your head again, “no… The king, our king, Peter and I were hoping he’d attend our… our marriage.” The word felt heavy on your tongue as the world around you began to crash down. “I suppose, we were too naïve to believe he’d stay.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

The barren winter trees passed by in blurs as Steven stared out the carriage window. The bickering of his two friends and advisors, Lord Samuel Wilson and James Barnes, became background noise to his pensive thoughts.

He wondered how you were – were you as devasted as he was? Would you understand if he told you the truth – that he, though desperately and completely in love with you, could not have you? That his overstep, his coveting of Peter Parker’s fiancé, may reignite a feud long buried between Arachnia and Brooklyn.

That as a king, it was his duty to put a stop to a potential war.

Though as a man, he knew his duty was to you and may always be.

“The girl,” Barnes’s mention of your name had him turning from the window and towards the two men, “she seems well. A great match for the young king.”

Steve scoffed. Although he knew his opinion was heavily biased, he knew that you were most certainly not a good match for the Parker boy. Peter would have you as a decorated figurehead – a pretty woman on his arm for the world to see – while Steven wanted so much more in your forbidden union.

“I see you disagree,” Samuel nodded to his king. Steven sat in silence and the two lords shot a knowing glance at the other. “They are to be wed in a few days.” Steven hummed though the two didn’t miss the way his hand formed a fist over his knee.

“The sooner the better, I suppose,” James nodded, eyeing Steven wearily. “Peter, being so young and the last of his line, he needs an heir quickly.” The king shifted in the carriage and they felt the entire cart jolt with his fury. “Steven, I address this as your friend, nothing more, but what is your issue?”

“Nothing.” Steven said quickly and he scolded himself. He felt like a young boy throwing a tantrum with his mother.

James raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his king and childhood friend. “The girl has piqued your interest, hasn’t she?” His friend’s silence was all the confirmation he needed. “Steve – “

“I know,” Steven snapped. “I know it is wrong to want another man – “he scoffed, “child’s bride…”

“And yet you still do?” Samuel asked. “Steve, the consequences of your feelings,” he shook his head, “it will incite an unnecessary war… and over what? A girl?”

“If she’s a war, then I will fight.”

“A love blind man’s word… Not a king’s.” Samuel rebutted.

“Why did you leave her, then? You could’ve stowed her away in this carriage with us. You could’ve stolen her from under Peter’s nose. Why didn’t you?” James quizzed.

With a defeated sigh, Steven said, “it’s for her own good. My affections for her, whatever my heart says or hers, it will get her killed. Arachnia will not take lightly to her betrayal of their king.”

James nodded in agreement. “You’re saving her. This is for the best, my friend. For if you listened to your heart instead of your head, she will be a casualty in a pointless war.”

“It’s difficult,” Steven confessed, “to have let her go. And it’s something I will regret for the rest of my life.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

ONE YEAR LATER…

Your entire family cooed at the fussing three-month-old in the king’s arms. The child continue to wail and thrash, finding discomfort in your husband. “Argh!” He glanced over to you as if asking for your help. You stifled a laugh as you walked over, seizing your baby from him. “She prefers her mother over me.” He joked as the babe almost instantly calmed in your arms.

“Have you chosen a godparent, yet, your majesty?” Your father asked you, subtly pushing your older brother forward as a silent suggestion. You rolled your eyes.

The king ran a hand over his brown curls and shook his head at your father. “No, my lord, we have yet to choose.” Peter nodded in your direction. “I thought since most of baby Fallon’s life will be decided by me, his mother should have a say in that.”

Your father chuckled with a shake of his head. He clasped a hand on your shoulder, and you fought the urge to shrug it off. “Indecisive, this one, isn’t she?”

Peter glanced your way, “you have no idea.” The two men laughed, and you gnawed at the knob in the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood. Fallon yawned and you gave Peter a look. “I suppose, we should all greet our guests.”

“Oh, yes,” you nodded, “the christening. You go ahead, Peter. Someone should stay with Fallon.”

“Oh, nonsense, girl,” your father told you. “The nanny will – “

“She is my child and I will care for her. I do not need a nanny.” You snapped, your bottled up frustrations slowly bursting.

Peter laughed awkwardly, hands finding your waist though you pulled away from him. He coughed. “It’s the separation anxiety,” he joked with your father.

“Well, I never had that,” your mother piped up.

Of course, you didn’t. You sent me away as soon as Peter asked. You bit back the response.

Your family began to vacate the nursery and you felt a bit of relief. You felt Peter’s hands on your hips. You tensed when you felt his lips ghost over your ear. “Why don’t you join me in greeting our guests?” He asked you.

You shrugged him off. “I want to be alone.”

The young king sighed before releasing his hold on you. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned to you again. “You do realize your duty is not only to Fallon? It is to me and my kingdom as well.”

“I understand that my duty was to give you an heir,” you deadpanned. “I have done just that.”

“You have given me a daughter. Not an heir.” You glared at him and he immediately silenced.

“A daughter is an heir. Do not dare discredit her birthright because of her sex!” The babe began to stir in your arms and let out a small cry. You immediately shushed her, coddling her in your arms and she began to quiet.

You heard him sigh, defeatedly, before the door slammed shut again.

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you as you stared at the child in your arms. Many times, you found peace in Fallon’s presence, but as time went on and as the child began to resemble her father, you began to worry. Though Fallon had adorable dark curls, she had striking blue eyes – ones that undoubtfully belonged to her father.

On the day you were to wed Peter, he had gotten caught up in the affairs of the state. The wedding was quickly rescheduled for two weeks after despite the protests of the nobles and royals who had all stayed extra days to witness your union. As you were doing the final adjustments to your gown, you realized you were due for a bleed that had yet to come and a sickening feeling of realization ran erupted through you. You did not consummate that night – your nerves and guilt making you sick to your stomach.

But you decided that you would survive – if not for yourself, then the life within you, the life in your arms now.

Moments later, the door creaked open and you let out a frustrated sigh. “Peter, I said I wanted to be alone – “in the silence, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand and a shiver run down your spine. A familiar feeling you wanted to forget. You turned around and your eyes widened. All the fury you felt, the regrets, the pain – all of it – melted in an instant.

“Steve.”

He stared at you with adoring eyes. You had grown more beautiful if that were even possible. Your glowed, motherhood becoming you. “(Y/N).”

“You shouldn’t be here.” You shook your head.

“You weren’t with Peter,” the Brooklyn king told you. “I thought you may have been with your child…” He chuckled. “Near the south wing, next to the staircase.”

“I love the sunlight it brings in.” You muttered. “Peter never lets Fallon out of the castle, so I suppose, it’s a substitute.” Steven nodded.

After beats of silence and longing stares, Steve finally said, “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” You nodded. “At first I was angry. I cursed your name in the dead of night. I wished you were dead and I often pretended so.”

“I deserve worse.”

You laughed. “You do.”

“I did it because I was afraid if I took you from him, in a furious rage, he’d strike you down. You are not of Brooklyn. I could not protect you against your own king.” Steven explained.

You nodded. “I told you. I would marry into hell.”

“Has he been cruel?” Steven frowned, his fury slowly rising and hands forming fists.

You shook your head. “No, far from it, actually.” You chuckled humorlessly. “In fact, perhaps, I’ve been the cruel one. I push him away because I don’t want Falon to believe that he is her father – “

“What?”

You glanced down at the child in your arms and beckoned Steven with a cock of your head. The king slowly walked over to you and the babe. Steven’s eyes watered slightly as he stared at the small creation. “She’s … she’s mine?”

You nodded. “They pushed the wedding back two weeks and I didn’t… uh… I didn’t bleed… and I knew then. We didn’t consummate,” you saw how he frowned at that, “until a week or so after. I was with child not long after.”

“How do you know?” He asked you. “Not to be accusatory, but – “

“She has your eyes.” You smiled. “Every time she stares at me, it’s as if you are.”

“She looks like me,” Steven smiled, a gentle finger caressing the child’s plump cheeks. You nodded in agreement.

“Would you like to hold her?” You asked and he eagerly nodded. He took the child from you and you felt your heart swell when Fallon didn’t immediately begin to fuss like she would with Peter. “She likes you.”

“I hope so. I’m her father, after all.”

You laughed and rested your head on his shoulder, both admiring the life that you both created. You imagined that this was your life… just for a moment. That you weren’t in Arachnia but in Brooklyn, bearing Steven’s name rather than Peter’s… Married to the one who truly held your heart.

You sighed, finding the calm in your daughter and your lover.

And in that moment… all was right.

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