#I'm thinking next one will be Majesty

[polariscroquis]

"I'm coming back for you, my friend"

For some reason, my brain thought it would be fun drawing Copia as Sailor Moon, so there we go, Sailor Emeritus for Hunter's Moon.

I only saw the Sailor Moon thing after I was done with it though, the actual concept was Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt *puts on fool hat and jingles quietly*

I blame him and his goth anime legs uncle vibes, man is 80% legs in every photo

[22ayla21]

Hello!, lately I have been obsessed with your Malleus as a father, it like literally just warms up my heart. Could I request something similar to one of your fics with him where reader has complications with childbirth?. You know as reader is barely coping with the whole dragon thing in her body. I'm dying for angst and at the same time fluff :3 (You can choose if it's either their first born or second or third it's doesn't matter)

My Light Through the Storm

When you carry a dragon's child beneath your heart, childbirth is even harder than for ordinary people.

The thunder in the Briar Valley didn't portend bad weather. It portended birth. Legends said that dragons, purebloods and half-bloods alike, didn't come into the world quietly. Their arrival was an event that nature itself felt. The sky shook, the earth trembled, and magic sang and groaned at once.

You lay on the birthing bed, surrounded by healers, exhausted, weary, gripping the sheets in your fists as if trying to hold onto life itself. Your belly twitched convulsively – another contraction. Your lips bled from biting them so hard. Your hands trembled, your body wouldn't obey, and even breathing was difficult.

"She won't make it…" the healers whispered, averting their eyes. "Her body… it's not adapted…"

Outside, a storm raged – not a magical one, a real one. Or was it? Who could say when it came to the Draconia bloodline? Every time you screamed, lightning flashed in the sky, the wind howled as if with you. The healers quelled the trembling in the walls with spells, closed the shutters, but the air still vibrated.

In the next room, Malleus stood as if carved from stone. He heard everything. Every one of your screams. Every drop of pain. He felt his own child crying through your suffering – not yet born, but already wild and full of power.

"Your Majesty," the elder healer pleaded, "you cannot be in the chamber. Your presence, your magic… it could destabilize…"

Malleus looked up at him. Dragon eyes. Without anger. Without a shout. But there was will in them.

"She is my queen. The mother of my child. I will not leave."

He entered the room, and the air immediately changed. Waves of magic gently touched the walls, like a tender shadow. The storm outside quieted, as if nature itself bowed before his steps.

You lifted your head. Your eyes were hazy with pain, but you felt him. His magic. His strength. His hand that took yours, cold and trembling.

"Malle…" you barely exhaled.

"I am here," he whispered. "You are not alone."

He felt the child within you beating, breathing, as if wanting to break free – and at the same time, as if afraid. His magic enveloped your belly, gently, like a mother's breath over her infant. He sang in an ancient tongue, known only to the Draconia bloodline. He whispered promises:

"We are here. We await you. But do not destroy the one who gave you life."

And the child… heard.

For the first time in hours of contractions, you felt relief. The pain hadn't gone, but it had subsided, becoming tolerable. Your heart beat in unison with his voice. You squeezed his hand until it hurt, but he didn't look away.

"You're doing it," he told you. "Better than anyone before you. You are stronger than you think."

You wept. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but now not only from pain. From his presence. Because you were alive.

And when the final push began, when screams once again tore through the silence, Malleus stood beside you, not as a king, but as a husband. He held you as you pushed, held you as you screamed, and held you as your body, broken, gave its last strength to bring a son into this world.

And then he was born.

A flash of lightning illuminated the sky. The windows in the castle rattled, but none shattered. In the birthing chamber, a cry rang out – strong, fierce, alive. The horned infant cried as if announcing his arrival to the whole world.

You, gasping for breath, tried to raise yourself. The healers were already bustling, the infant taken away to be cleaned, wrapped… but Malleus remained with you. He wiped the sweat from your brow, held you close, kissed your hair.

"You did it…" he whispered, his voice breaking. "You… my strength."

"I… almost died…" you gasped.

"But you didn't die. You survived. And you gave me the greatest miracle in this world."

Then the healer returned to you. In his arms, he held the tiny one, who was already wiggling his minuscule tail.

"He is… strong," the healer stated. "And healthy. Perfectly healthy. And so are you, Your Majesty."

Malleus took him into his arms, for the first time – not as a dragon, not as a king – but as a father.

"Here you are," he whispered softly to the infant. "Next to your mother, who gave you life."

You lay exhausted, but when he leaned down so you could see your son, your eyes filled with tears. A tiny, strong creature, whose horns were barely emerging, a tail that twitched slightly… and his eyes. Green. Exactly like his father's.

"He… he's like you," you breathed.

"And like you," Malleus replied. "Because only you could have carried one like him."

He sat beside you, holding both of you close. The healers retreated, leaving the family in a silence filled with the breath of love, exhaustion, and life.

Outside, the raging storm had finally quieted. In its place, a light rain began to fall, glistening on the leaves as if nature itself wept with joy.

Malleus kissed your forehead.

"You are my queen. Mother of a dragon. And the light through my storm."

[lylian333]

Emperor x reader (x general)

The art does not belong to me I found it on pintrest again,the art belongs to this artist, go check him out

warning: bro may be yandere/toxic, reader ignore red flags (like how I avoid addmath) , angst , glory , kinda expected twist... , more maybe trmatazing shits, this is more on ancient Chinese theme, 3rd person pov, trust the process, suicidal, heavily chinese theme as hell I repeat again(my english been getting worst)

Both of you were born on the same day inside the palace. The difference is that you were born in your mother's small chamber. She was just one of the servants to a concubine, a lowly status. The consort was kind enough to send a doctor to help her give birth to you, while the consort went to witness the empress's birth.

She gave birth to a healthy prince. on the other hand, your mother died from labour, and you were born unhealthily; you could barely even breathe within a few hours.

But luckily, your mother's mistress, the consort Xin Qi she served, decided to adopt you. For a reason, out of pure pity, that her favorite maid who had served her since she entered that palace, her truly trusted friend, somehow caught the attention of that emperor at one of the meetings, and one thing led to another...

The first time you both met was when you were 6 years old at the palace garden, you were feeding the fish in the pond when he accidently ran into you, causing you to fall into the pond.

You struggle to breathe while the water feels like it's trying to drag you down, and this sense causes the boy to panic and scream for help.

Luckily, one of the servants is brave enough to jump into the pond to save you. You were immediately sent back to your chamber to rest while the doctors were on their way.

But some odd reasons the boy decided to stay by your side, watching as your maid carried you, rushing back to your chamber.He couldn't describe the gut feeling for the first time he felt worry??I mean, he shouldn't really be since it's just a random girl in the garden who knows who she belongs to, even if she were one of the concubines' daughters, he wouldn't have any consequences. I mean, after all, he was quite literally spoiled rotten; he didn't even have to dress himself or feed himself as all his servants would be there any moment he needed.

Before his birth, the emperor even said to himself if his dear empress gave birth to a prince, an heir, it would be the next king. That's what you heard from your maid; she even warned you if you met him, you must greet him and agree on anything he proposes, you mustn't protest to him, and blah blah blah, what a brat you think to yourself.

Back to reality, you felt the thick blanket on top of your body while he held your hand from the side. You side-eye him, giving him a confused and weird look.

"You push me-you blind-"

Before you could finish, you were shut by a hand across your mouth.

"Watch your mouth (y/n), his majesty is the crown prince. Forgive him, my majesty, she's just not used to a stranger being here hehe...."she then laughed awkwardly.

But he suddenly grabs your hand and apologizes

"I'm sorry i didn't mean to gege sorry gege muchen can take care of you-"

Yeah, the first interaction wasn't the best. You expected him to be more of a brat and rude but nope for some reason, he was...kind to you I mean he would sneak good treats and foods for you, would play with you, tell you what he learns and even teach you some, unlike the consort who only taught you how to become a proper and likeable lady.

But it's still weird for you that he would only treat you nicely, and it was obvious like he loved petting your head which you of course slap his hand away or hugged. People who walked by, especially those who witnessed that would stare and gossip afterward.

But he can't help it the first time he met he thinks it was the look of love he thinks that you were definitely the one which he confess to you once but you told him that your both to young to even understand the meaning but he just keep believing himself that yep she's the one to my heart and just blind by love.

But back then you didn't take him seriously, I mean come on, you guys were parents to a bunch of rabbits in the palace garden. You do enjoy spending time with him, you couldn't help but feel warm around him as if he's the sun to your moon.

Both of you decide to plant an apricot tree in the palace garden near the pond where you both first met and all , as a cute reminder not only that you can't wait for it to fully gown so that when it blossom you both could enjoy the view under the tree.

But of course, the gossips within the court spread the rumors soon to the whole palace, and the empress found out about it. She then restricted Muchen from seeing you, claiming that you will give no benefit for the palace not only that you're just one of the lowly maid kids that the emperor decide to play with your just a bad influence and distractions for him by telling his servents to keep an eye on him if he was caught hanging out with you. you'll be the one who receives a physical punishment, and he just has to write a whole book of poem.

Does it seem unfair, yes, but the empress doesn't care. She'll never dare to hurt her son; she baby him too much. she also bans you from going out of your chamber for a month. When you heard the new,s you were aboutly horrified.

Now both of you were in a bad situation . he doesn't wish for you to get hurt, especially because of him no never, he would never he rather let the actions be taken upon on him than you. You're just a like a glass lotus so gorgeous and fragile can be broken with one touch or a rude comment.

He did try to send you letters by tying it up on his pet parrot but soon it was found out and you were punished to be beaten by a wooden stick for 20 times.

You swear your limbs were almost broken at the end of it and you had to take a few months just so it could heal back to normal. When muchen heard about this, is was horrified and begged his servants to send you more doctors and others, etcetera that could help you heal faster and in a painless way.

With that in hand, he never dares to interfere with you anymore he fear that he could bring danger and harm to you, which is true.So those how the years went by...

~~

Both of you have grown into adults now and he was now the newly ascending emperor to his father's throne after his death. Many concubines were buried with him to serve him in the next life which will always be your worst nightmare and horrible fact you know about them.But at least you won't of them, right??

Let's see. Since he's now the emperor, he gets to have access around the palace , and without a doubt, he came to find you on the same day of the coronation.

When he went near your chamber, he heard giggles. That's odd she rarely giggles unless it's from me hmmm, maybe she just grew up now and changed he pushed open the door.

The first thing his eyes landed on was a man.

A MAN in your chamber? Who is he? What is he doing with you in your CHAMBER???

But he couldn't help but glare at you as well, you gown so much now even gorgeous than before so lively, but why? Did that guy make you feel that way??

With his presence in your chamber, both you and your secret lover bow and greet him."Greeting, my lord, what brings you here...?" you ask

"Who's that with you, (y/n)?"

"I'm Jun Jian, one of the soldiers, my lord."

Muchen just hums back, replying before pulling you into his arms, and tells Jun Jian to go. while he spends the afternoon, claiming he just wanted to catch up you believe in him I mean come on, before he was emperor, he already had 4 wives, what's stopping him from having you. You just thought he actually wanted to catch and that he cares about you

of course, there he went and left shutting the door behind him. Not going to lie, you didn't dare to meet his Muchen eyes, was it from shame, fear? You can't figure it out right.Or was it because he caught you in the act with your lover?

Both of you weren't official but you hoped it was if only he wasn't so busy with his duty, but that's what makes you feel attractive by him. He's so hardworking and dedicated, you can't help but fall for that. he would occasionally give you presents, it may not be gold, fine silk ,and other luxury, but you knew he tried he try spending time with you if he wasn't in the battlefield.

But Muchen took advantage of Jun Jian's being a soldier and set him at the front of the battle. From then on, when you heard that from Jun Jia, you were concerned. The fact that the rate of his dying was not risky enough to make you pray every day that he would survive, but now that he is at the front, the rate has skyrocketed. But now you can't do much but pray for the best.

~~

After a few months , there were news that happened within the day

one that could shock you , like meeting a death penalty

and one that could make you feel grateful for god and everything you belive and put faith in.

The good news is that Jun Jian was promoted to become a general of the military .

The bad news is Muchen force you to marry him. it wasn't even an arranged marriage is just one of his nucai who came to your chamber randomly at night and told you the news, this Sunday, you'll have your wedding with the emperor. You were dumbfounded and speechless, you stood there silently for a full minute staring at the nucai .

You wanted to hit him and let your frustration out . but you can't he's just delivery the message not only that you were nobody in the palace your status leave could possible be worst then him , is just the fact you had a personal maid that the pervious consort Xin Qi , your adopted mother have gift for you a week before the emperor die and she was buried along side with him

You hated that rule ever since you heard about it , It's ridiculous how the emperor could decide whether his wives should be buried with him and decide that death would be the same day as his. Even if you love one of the wives, would you choose them to suffer to not continue their lives without yo,u and if they refuse to obey the order,r and drink the poison, they will be tied up and be buried alive. With consort xin qi death adding on to it , this makes your hatred burn even more.

Yes, it's your turn. You enjoy your life in the palace filled with luxury if you are favored by the emperor, but what about the other? He doesn't care; they still have the same sentence. unless he did wrote their name in the emperor's well, then they'll become a nun for the emperor for their whole life after on.

In that week you barely got enough sleep, stressing out about everything you even had a nightmare about it.even seem some of your hair had turn white while staring into the mirror, eyes so dark like inside a well during midnight so dark and quiet could even hear the sound of a needle dropping.

On the day of the wedding, you were dressed in heavy golds and many layers of robes . The pins that were on your hair make you think you even tilt a little to the side, your whole body may follow the direction with it. Last, you were then covered by a red veil that cover your face, while at least this could hide your frowning expression from him for the day.

Then the worst part has arrived, the night. people left both of you at your now new better/spaces chamber. Let's just say that he has been waiting for it , and held you close tightly, leaving bruises like an animal in heat at its mating session. He threw your clothes across the room and one by one took of your pins, letting your hair fall off slowly.

He then ripped of your dudou and tied your hands above your head so that you wouldn't fight him. That night, you weren't screaming for pleasure but from pain and for help, help that could help you escape from this burning he'll experiment . If only Jun Jian were here to protect you...

~~

After a few months, you had been promoted to empress, but you were still unhappy, and you found out you were pregnant. how? Why even question when Muchen came into your chamber every night since the marriage started. In the morning, you start puking hard lying there feeling dizzy while your maid tries helping you out, patting your forehead with a cloth and patting your back, about to pass out. When the doctors came to examine your hand, they told you you were pregnant.

Around that time, Jun Jian came back from the military and found out you were now married to the new emperor MuChen, bro went mad and crashed out trash your previous chamber, which is still filled with your stuff. The news that you're pregnant was spread around the palaces, which makes him even more despise you, it's like adding fuel to the fire. He thought you both were serious. Why would you do that to him, knowing that it could hurt him? Maybe it's he's fault for taking it too long and not taking action to make you his, was it his fault?

When you hear jun jian had came back from war you wanted to visit him, not caring it will have other rumors nor other shits. When you came to his counter and found him lying in his bed in the afternoon, you called out to him

"Jun Jian, your back oh how I miss you-"

"(y/n)?I thought you abandoned me, I thought you hated me."

"What!I would never, dear, you knew it."

"Then why? Why did you go and marry him, not me? Was it my fault??"

You tried explaining it to him, but before you could start off, he broke out crying, your heart sank and you went over to try to comfort him. You feel bad that you couldn't defend your love for him, you hated that you had to rely on him, and you feel useless. But now he needed you, but you couldn't do much but comfort him.

Out of the blue, he slammed his lips against your lips. You allow him, you even kiss him back. Both of you knew it was wrong, but it feels right.

Until he ruined it again, Mu Chen came in. You think it's one of your maids who told him where you're heading to, accompanied by the arrival of Jun Jian back here.

But Jun Jian placed you behind him and took out his sword, wanting to kill him for ruining his love for both of you as for justice.MuChen just looked at you both and laughed before calling his other guards to drag him down.

He struggles during the process and slashes some guards during it. The science horrifies you , you don't know if you should help him or stop him what if later one of the gruads accidently kills him, who knows you just sit there on the cold wooden floor witnessing the science in front of you.

After a while, Jun Jian had probably killed 4 guards but was unfortely held down onto the floor and, Muchen told them to put him in jail and strip him from his title as a general. he then came over you even walking above the dead body, just to walk right in front of you.

"Why do you hate me, (y/n) . I tried everything to capture your heart, but you just won't give me a chance? Tell me what he has that I don't, hm?i know I missed out on many years, but that doesn't mean we still can't be together. Still remember the tree that we both planted, we both promised each other right, lotus?"

You don't know what to say, did you do both of them dirty ??? Was it your fault, but but he-then? You were frightened and confused, and he could read it through your expression like reading a book. he then shook his head and chuckled, "Has a cat got your tongue, dear? Don't worry, I told servants to take great care of it. Let us walk there, dear."

You both took a silent walk to the palace garden, it has changed lots since you last came. After the previous ban, you were both from seeing each other, you rarely came to the palace garden, afraid you'll meet him there. Other servants would also enjoy their time there so they're probably snitching without a doubt, just so the empress could notice them,or just to see you both suffer.

The style and pattern of the design have changed, but it's still full of flowers and life, it brings you a little warmth into your heart .he's heart warms up seeing you finally relax a little and not as tense as before.

You both then arrive under the tree, the apricot had blossoms .The flower petals fall down along with the wind while you gently caress the tree trunk, in denial that the time has passed that much. He hugs you from behind, wrapping his hand around your waist.

"Your the only thing i wanted ever since I met you (y/n) , I just hope that you could give me a chance and take my love I gave you seriously ."

"I- but I'm already in love with someone muchen"you finally confess

"But we're married (y/n), there isn't an opinion for you other than give in to my love or don't I just wanted you to understand. But since you finally confess, good girl."

"I no I'm already taken by him, my heart can only be with him."

"Fine then, since you wanted to act like a brat, alright. But you'll still be going to be mine and have my child I may not have your heart but I have you, your soul, and-"

You slap him hard on the face, breathing rapidly. There was a long 5 seconds of silence before he chuckled like always.

"Oh (y/n), you're just so naive, aren't you "he chuckled again and touching your belly before saying, "I can't wait for your belly to swell dear, that's why everyone will know who you belong to.I don't even care if it's a princess or prince, it's made from us. from the seeds I planted inside of you."

When he said the last sentence, it gave you chills and goosebumps. It was like he was always giving you the creeps.You were still curious what would happen to Jun Jian, but didn't ask since you knew he would be in a bad mood again.

~~

After a few days during dinner you got the courage to ask him "what did you do to General Jun Jian?"

"Curious? Let's go and see then."

You hesitated for a moment before getting up and following him. Then reaches the underground jail cells, and when he stops at one of the cells. When you turn your head and see the sense in front of you, you should rather cry, puke, or pass out.

Jun Jian was tied agaisn't a wooden bed in the middle of the cell with one of his legs cut off. There was a pool of dried blood on the wooden bed as well as on the floor. The muscle and bone were cut, and you can even see every detail of it. lord heavens, how is he still alive or was it not you can't really tell if he had closed his eyes and probably fainted from excessive blood loss.

You were bombarded by many emotions that you went crazy and cried and banged the metal bars screaming for him to wake up, you can't he can't just die like that- no please, please be awake you scream out while crying out despite your throat is hurting.

He finally slowly lifted his eyes you scream harder"Jun Jian love, please, i love you- i'm sorry-"

Mu Chen then opened the door to the cell, you flew inside immediately before he could and hugged the upper body of Jun Jian, crying and repeating the word "I'm sorry"

"I love you so much, you don't deserve any of this because of me I'm so sorry, love."

Little did you know, Mu Chen was grabbing a hammer.

Before Jun Jian could even speak out, he was then bash by the hammer, the sense will forever be stuck with you and you know daam well of it. Mu Chen continues to bash his skull open harder each time

You scream at him to stop trying to push and pull him away from Jun Jian's body, but he pushes you away but accidently making you fall, hitting your head on the wall. Before you know it, your stomach was in bad pain and then you fainted.

When you woke up, you didn't have the energy to move or speak; you just stared at the ceiling and blinked at it, but your maid somehow noticed you were awake and told you that you had fainted for two days already.

You just turned your head and told her to go, she was humbled but nodded before she stood up, she told you also had lost your baby mistress, I'm sorry . You scream at him to go out again, when she left you cried out again, blaming yourself for everything if it weren't for you, Jun Jian would still be happily alive with his life , if it weren't for you Mu Chen wouldn't have gone that insane.

Why? Just because you're alive or was it because you met Mu Chen, why did he like me, why did I do to make him so- why just why you did nothing wrong, you try living your life like a normal girl and as a servant did you do something wrong??

You cry all day and night, refusing to go out of your chamber even if the emperor himself muchen your husband, came in trying to force you out of the chamber or feed you food and water, but you stop him from continuing to forcing you by threatening to kill yourself.

With that ability on hand, you realized how stupid you are, you could have just ended it all, why continue living like this, gaining and losing everything? After all, dying is better than continuing to live this burning hell.

You took the advantage of the winter session, during night with heavy snow stroam you sneak out of the chamber and palace and just ran using every last of your energy fore crashing into the heavenly thich snow that's over half your body your're not even sure where you'll at but it looks like heaven with everything white surrounding you.

When Muchen found out you went missing, he sent out half of the palace guards and soldiers to find you, and he will honor anyone that can find you alive; that person will then be promoted to a noble person and will have a wife and a bunch of coins.

But one of the guards found you near the forest frozen to death, when Emperor Muchen heard the news, he shut himself and drown himself in work, rarely visited other concubines/his other wife's chamber only yours, sleeping in your bed and sniffing your old cloth like a creep but he's can't help it.

He even threw you the most luxurious funeral there could been and force the people in the palace to cry about you and about your death as well as forcing everyone to wear black for a month. He also forbade the other concubines to wear your dresses or pins or any jewelry or gold that you own.

In his mind, he's trying to love you, but you refuse because of that stupid jun jian so he gets rid of him so that you can focus on him only but he never thought you would kill yourself rather than being with him, was he that bad to be with...? He questioned himself for many years, if the concubines dare to protest when they make out and he calls your name instead of theirs. They would be sentenced to death, he really can't get you off his mind, even at his deathbed, he still remembers you as clear as day.

He even had a statue of you in his personal chamber garden, which was made of obsidian and pearl.He spoke to you every night. Whispered secrets into your lifeless palm. He told you about the wars he no longer cared to win. About the generals he executed for daring to mention your name. He would even gift you things like a gold necklace to wear around your statue, talking to you saying how much he misses you, He would sometimes even kiss the statue when no ones is there to bother his moment with you. He once kissed it for hours until he passed out drunk at its feet.

He stopped eating for a while. Started carving your poems into his skin. He couldn’t tell dream from memory anymore.

In his will, he wrote that he wished for your coffin to be dug out and be put beside him, and no other concubines would be buried with him. Because he knew that you hated that rule the most since you made in clear to him bad then, and he only wanted you, no one else, only you to serve him or him to serve you . he doesn't care, he just needed you, only you can make him feel alive again.

i know it has been quite a while but I been trying to focus on my studies more I always end up here...anyways I hope u guys love it, like always I try on my grammar and not to repeat the same shit thanks for reading. have a great day diva~.At first I wanted(y/n) to have a female lover like that, but I'm afraid some of y'all ain't into that so yeah, I chose a general instead. Speaking of generals, I'm also writing on one and I hope that I can also publish it...hopefully.... pray for you guys, if I like if there's anything wrong just tell me alright

[steddie-as-they-come]

everybody talks

i could not tell you what this is. i wrote it all in one sitting. enjoy or whatever

It starts with the graffiti.

Scribbled in thick, permanent marker across the boys' gym lockers.

STEVE HARRINGTON FUCKS EDDIE MUNSON

The custodian tries half-heartedly to scrub it off, but he only manages to get about a letter and a half off the locker before his shift is over. It's back up by the next day anyway.

Half the school is walking on tiptoes around Steve, waiting for him to blow up and demand a manhunt for the culprit.

The other half is snickering and laughing as he walks by in the halls.

Steve doesn't give two shits. He holds his head up high and walks onwards, ignoring the laughs and the kissy noises. He needs to graduate. He needs to not get eaten by a terrifying monster from an alternate reality. More pressing things happen to Steve Harrington than grade school graffiti.

Until he turns the corner and sees Eddie Munson glaring furiously at his closed locker.

He doesn't speak to him. Even if the graffiti isn't a big deal, there's no need to add any fuel to the fire.

Eddie finally steps forward and wrenches open his locker door. The crowd milling in the halls begins to laugh.

Papers spill out, dozens of them, cascading over the floor and burying Eddie's shoes. One slides all the way to Steve's feet.

He looks down automatically.

There's an atrocious drawing of two stick figures bent over each other. The one on the bottom has two lines of curly hair, while the one on the top has a singular swooping line of graphite.

Great.

Steve swiftly scoops it up and crumples it in his fist, shoving it in his pocket. He'll toss it out later.

As he hustles past Eddie, steadfastly not looking in his direction, he thinks he hears Eddie mutter, "Every class period."

Steve turns a corner, and the train wreck that is Eddie's locker is gone.

He slides into his seat, knowing the band girls who sit in the back corner of the classroom are whispering about him, but finding he couldn't care less.

The teacher starts class.

He reaches into his pocket and slides the crumpled paper between his fingers, over and over.

Steve raises his hand. "Can I go to the bathroom?"

The teacher nods and waves him away, and Steve scrambles out the door, rounding the corner.

Eddie's still there, kneeling by his locker, trying to scoop up papers.

Steve kneels next to him. "Hey."

Eddie jumps like an alley cat that's been spooked. Steve could swear his hair starts bristling, puffing up.

"Your majesty," Eddie finally says, glaring back at the pile of paper like Steve'll disappear if he doesn't look at him. "To what do I owe the pleasure."

It's not really a question.

Steve answers it anyway. "Came to help," he says simply, picking up a piece of paper that has EDDIE MUNSON X STEVE HARRINGTON written on it in bold letters, surrounded by stupid little hearts. "After all, my name's on half this stuff."

"How kind," Eddie said. "Keeping me distracted while your buddies key my van or something?"

Steve reels back. "Huh?"

"I'm not dumb, Harrington," Eddie says, crumpling up another sheet of paper. Steve can barely catch EDDIE HARRINGTON on it before it's balled in Eddie's fist. "I get this is a prank or whatever. I just can't understand why you'd involve yourself with me. The King and the Freak."

"'Cause I'm not the King anymore." Steve says, standing to drag a nearby garbage can closer. It's already half-full of papers. "You sure don't listen to gossip, Munson. Billy beat my ass and I lost every friend I had. So. I think it's a prank on both of us."

"Oh."

Eddie, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, shuts the fuck up. Steve had seen people lose their meals to his impassioned school cafeteria rants, but it only takes Steve Harrington to shut Munson's infamous mouth.

Wait, that sounds wrong.

They keep cleaning in silence - relatively. Steve starts balling up the papers and tossing them at the trash can, unable to stop himself from hissing out a yes! if he makes the throw.

"Impressive," Eddie says dryly. "Can you do this?" He raises one hand in the air like he's about to take a pledge, and in the other he folds and rolls a slip of paper until it's shaped like a joint.

Steve chuckles. "Nope." He takes the fake joint, and it comes undone in his palm, revealing the same crude stick figure couple from earlier.

Right.

Steve had forgotten what they were doing here.

Evidently, Eddie had too. He looks down at the drawing, then snatches the paper from Steve, tossing it in the trash, two spots of pink high on his cheeks.

He scoops the last of the papers into his arms, dumping them in the trash can. "You can go back to class," he tells Steve, settling down with his back against the locker.

"What are you doing?" Steve says, slightly caught off-guard by the dismissal.

"Seeing if those pricks will try to do it again." Eddie says, folding his knees up to his chest. "They do it all the time. I think there's a jungle's worth of trees just being used to make shit for my locker."

"You're just gonna guard it?" Steve asks.

"Sure," Eddie says, picking at a piece of lint on his shirt. "What else have I got to do?"

Steve plops himself down next to Eddie. "I'll guard with you," he says stubbornly.

"Seriously?" Eddie asks, like Steve's particularly slow. Steve's gotten that tone of voice a lot in his life.

"Yeah." Steve says. He parrots, "What else have I got to do?"

"You're just gonna fuel the rumors, dude." Eddie says. "My name's mud around here. You know that damn well."

"Sure," Steve shrugs. "But it hasn't been half-bad hanging out with you, and I don't care what these jackasses think of me anymore. Bigger things to worry about."

They settle into a comfortable silence, watching the students pass by, their whispered comments and curious glances bouncing off the duo. Eddie taps his fingers rhythmically on the ground, humming a tune Steve doesn't recognize but finds oddly comforting.

He reaches into his pocket to feel the small paper, then tugs it out. Is it dumb that a stupid drawing is making him think about himself this much?

"Hey, Eddie," Steve starts, hesitating. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," Eddie says idly.

"How do you... I mean, when did you know you were gay?" Steve asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie's expression turns to one of suspicion, but he answers anyway. "I guess I always knew, deep down. But I really figured it out in middle school." He looks at Steve out of the corner of his eye. "Why?"

Steve bites his lip, considering his next words carefully. "I think I might be... different too. I mean, I've only ever dated girls, but lately, I don't know. I feel... something."

Something means he worried for weeks when Billy beat the shit out of him because suddenly all these feelings were tugging at his brain. Feelings for people like Eddie Munson.

Eddie's eyes widen slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. (What? Steve's not looking at his lips. Huh?) "Steve Harrington, the former King of Hawkins High, might not be straight? Now that's some gossip I'd actually pay attention to."

"Shut up," Steve mutters, but he's smiling too. "I'm serious."

"Well..." Eddie trails off. "We can try it out?"

Steve's heart skips a beat. "Huh?"

"We can try it out." Eddie repeats. "But, uh," he leans close, his breath ghosting over the shell of Steve's ear. "Just so you know, I prefer to be the one on top."

Weeks later, the school is overtaken by a new kind of graffiti. Papers plastered to every surface, a spiky handwriting (usually used to write setlists and D&D character sheets) adorning each and every one of them.

EDDIE MUNSON FUCKS STEVE HARRINGTON

[harunayuuka2060]

Maleficia: ...

Baul: You… Why are you here?

*He eyed the figure of MC warily as they stood before him, gripping the hilt of his sword, ready to defend the Queen if they made any move to attack.*

Maleficia: ...

Maleficia: What is the purpose of your visit?

Baul: Your Majesty—

MC: My purpose here is to inform you that MC is dead.

Baul: !!!

Baul: Impossible! You wouldn’t be here if the real one had died!

Maleficia: ...

Maleficia: Is this truly what happened?

MC: *nods*

Baul: Your Majesty, this entity is not to be trusted!

MC: I don't need you to. I've already fulfilled my purpose, and I'm here to ask: Do you really think waiting for three days is wise?

Maleficia: ...

Maleficia: *smiles* You came close to impressing me, but your deception is apparent.

MC: *tilts their head*

Maleficia: Time flows differently in his realm. Why the haste?

MC: ...

MC: I guess I tried. *then disappears*

Baul: ...

Baul: What was that about...?

Maleficia: It appears things have been disrupted. Though I find it irresponsible of them to send a reflection that cares for nothing. *chuckles*

Floyd: What are you looking at, Sea Lion~?

Leona: *noticed that something was amiss*

Leona: ...

Leona: Red young master, Floyd—you're up next.

Riddle: ...Wait. Just the two of us? And with Floyd??

Cater: You can add me to the group, Leona-kun—

Leona: Yes. Just you two.

Riddle: Absolutely not! Leona-senpai, I refuse this pairing—I'll work with literally anyone else!

Floyd: Hehe~ Are you intimidated by me, Goldfishy~?

Riddle: No! Nothing good will come from us working together!

Leona: That's exactly the point.

Riddle: Huh?

Cater: What does that mean, Leona-kun?

Leona: I'm not sure yet, but with Floyd's mood swings and Riddle's short temper, it should be enough to create a disaster.

Floyd and Riddle: ...

Floyd: Hehehe~!

Riddle: *is clearly not happy about it*

*Riddle and Floyd entered the next portal, awestruck by what greeted them: a vast room with glimmering chandeliers overhead and a floor littered with gems and diamonds.*

Floyd: Are we inside a castle~? Everything's sparkling~.

Riddle: Floyd, don't forget we're here on a mission.

Floyd: Hehe~ Why the need to be serious~?

Riddle: We're here to save the Prefect.

Floyd: *his face turned serious* I know that. *then smiles* But no one says we can't have fun.

"I couldn't agree more!"

*A familiar yet enthusiastic voice echoed through the room, accompanied by the light-heavy clatter of heels against the floor. MC stepped forward—their appearance strikingly different from what the others remembered. This was a female version of them, perhaps in her early twenties, radiating regal elegance while carrying a mischievous glint in her eyes.*

MC: *chuckles* Welcome.

Riddle and Floyd: ...

MC: Lord Astaroth never forbade you from having fun—that’s why I’ve been wondering why you’re all being so serious.

Riddle: You were watching us...?

MC: *smiles* Yes. And I'm well aware Leona is the one serving as a strategist.

Floyd: Oh~? Then I guess the other Shrimpy was right~

Floyd: We need to kill you.

MC: *chuckles*

MC: Do you think it would be that easy?

*Leona and the others felt the ground tremble beneath them.*

Trey: ...

Trey: Something happened to Riddle.

*MC strung up Riddle and Floyd by a thread, leaving them hanging over the abyss.*

Riddle: Prefect! Why are you doing this?!

Floyd: I didn't expect you to have a cruel side on you, Shrimpy.

MC: *chuckles* Cruel?

MC: No—*smiles*—this is simply the face of power.

*With a flick of their blade, they severed the thread, sending the two plummeting—*

[gloomwitchwrites]

For Task Force 141, its currently tornado season and a stereotype I've heard of is men staying on the porch to watch the tornado long after the sirens start blaring. Which (if any) do you think would stay outside watching long after it's safe to, and which do you think would stay in the cellar with their S/O? Also, I'm curious if Ghost would have a problem with the storm shelter since most cellars are small, cramped, dark, and potentially spider infested

Have I found a fellow Midwesterner? I have, haven’t I? It is tornado season, and I actually love this time of year, especially when there is a thunderstorm. Sitting in the sunroom with a coffee in hand as it pours outside is simply *chef’s kiss*. This concept is so funny. Picturing them as Midwesterners who say “ope” and take four hours to say goodbye is SENDING me.

Who would stay outside watching way past after it’s safe to do so?

Price and Soap. Hands down. Non-negotiable. Price is the father standing on the porch as the sky goes blackish-green with a beer in his hand, simply waiting to admire the sheer majesty of the tornado. Soap is the kind of Midwest Dad to be mowing his lawn in the middle of the storm, completely oblivious that he needs to come inside. In fact, he might be nice and mow the neighbor’s lawn too while he’s at it.

Who is staying in the cellar?

Ghost and Gaz are. They are the responsible ones. They’re the ones rounding up the kids, making sure there are extra batteries for the weather radio, and following every single safety procedure. They’re watching Weather Channel from a safe distance, and completely prepared to make small talk at work for the next few days because what’s more Midwestern than endlessly talking about the weather? (And personally, I don’t see Ghost having an issue with being in a storm shelter, but that’s just my opinion.)

CoD Headcanons / AUs / Quick Writes Masterlist

[chaoticwriting]

Part 1

Danny x Cass part 2

The silence is loud in the room. Everyone is staring at Danny with a few glares being straight up hostile. Danny gives the crowd a scan and realizes that the hostile intent comes from 3 figures.

The Batman

Nightwing

Robin

'Huh, that's less than I thought' He thinks to himself. Another figure catches his attention when he sees the guy swiftly typing something on his computer wrists and acting like nothing is happening.

Just as Danny is about to think about how to break this awkwardness, Superman flies to Danny and greets him.

"Errmm, hello. I am Superman. May we know what you mean when you say you are here to help?"

Danny looks confused at that question when his shirt is tugged by Cass. He looks down and Cass climbs his arm and whispers to his ears.

"I have not told them."

Cass then climbs down and happily stands besides Danny holding his hands. Danny can see Batman's mouth twitching at the sight. Danny just smiles wryly but doesn't release her hand.

"I am here to help you deal with Trigon and Darkseid. I have been requested to help all of you by my partner."

Superman looks unsure on what to do next as he looks at Batman for instructions. Superman also realizes that Batman seems to be in a more terrible mood than usual. Not stressed. Not fear. More like agitated and angry.

When he sees Batman not reacting, he turns to Wonder Woman to ask for help. Diana seeing one of her friends in need of help while the other is in another space all together decides to step up and control the situation.

"May I know is it Black Bat that invites you, Mr. Phantom?"

"Danny is fine. And yes, she invites me to help with the crisis. I am also here to meet some of you actually."

"May I know what we could help you with, Danny?"

"Of course. First and foremost, I would like to formally introduce myself. I am Danny Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realm, the Ancient of Space and the Protector of Balance."

As soon as Danny finishes his introduction, the magical heroes kneel down towards Danny.

"We deeply apologize for not properly greeting you, Your Majesty. We are truly grateful for your offer of help."

Captain Marvel leads as the rest of the heroes become baffled at their act. The rest of the heroes are also about to kneel when Danny speaks.

"Please get up everyone. And please call me Danny. I'm not really here for any official stuff. I only tell all of you my title so that we can skip the whole 'Who are you really?' part"

All the heroes stand back up and this time Danny doesn't let the awkward tension last in the air.

"I'm here today mostly because my partner here asks me for help. And while I am here someone asks me to pass something."

Suddenly, the space between Barry and Danny shortens, bringing Barry right in front of Danny. Danny summons a small parchment and hands it to Barry.

"This is for you Flash. This is a fine because you often mess with time and Time doesn't like it when you do."

Barry slowly takes the parchment and reads it. His eyes go wide but before he is about to protest, Danny shut him up by saying.

"If you are dissatisfied with the punishment, you may go talk to CW himself. I'm only here to pass his punishment to you."

Barry slumps his shoulders and goes back into the crowd. The heroes look concerned at Barry as it looks like he is about to cry.

Wally approaches him from behind and taps his shoulders. Barry turns to Wally with water about to burst out of his eyes.

"What happened? Is the punishment so bad? Can we do anything about it?" Wally asks concerned at the state his mentor is in.

"No. This is all my fault. It's because of the time traveling mess I did before this. Now I need to become a servant to Time or Clockwork in this case for 1000 years."

Wally and the other heroes around look very concerned at the statement because even for some of them, 1000 years is a long time.

"No worries, your punishment will only start after you pass away. And after your sentence is done, you can pass on to whatever afterlife you choose."

A sticky note appears out of thin air right in front of Barry just as he is really about to cry. He holds himself back and reads the sticky note carefully. Wally peeks from the side and also sees the content of the sticky note.

"Oh also, CW says to not mess around with time too much anymore. He says he is kind enough to not count all the time where it is technically not your fault but he did say that if you can bring him Reverse Flash he will lower your sentence."

Barry lit up at Danny's words like he just received a Christmas present. He swore to himself the next time he sees Thawne, that guy is not going anywhere.

All the other heroes look at the pair of Flash and decide to ask(interrogate) them later. Now, there is an interdimensional deity in front of them that may or may not be dating one of them.

"So, Danny. May I know how you can help us?" Diana asks carefully.

"I can help you deal with both Trigon and Darkseid. That's it really."

"Is there any price that we need to pay for your help?"

Diana's question alerts all the heroes as they now remember that the one standing in front of them is not just any other normal guy. He is an interdimensional deity and those things usually take something as payment whenever they are asked with something.

Danny looks thoughtful at the question and suddenly a smirk appears on his face. Cass knows what that smirk means. It usually appears whenever Danny decides to do something he deems funny. And his funny usually means chaos.

Batman stares intensely at Danny. He knows that smirk. That is the same smirk any of his kids do before they cause trouble. (I.e glitter bomb his batmobile and change his ring tone to symphony)

"Hmm, I don't really need anything from any of you. After all, I do wanna show a good impression on my future-in-law."

Pin drop silence. The heroes expected many types of responses from Danny. Some of them are even ready to swear eternal service or even their life. But whatever Danny just says certainly isn't one of them.

The silence is broken as a katana flies at high speed towards Danny.

"How dare you touch my sister?!" Shouted a tiny figure.

Danny catches the katana and puts it inside his treasury. He will enchant it later to give back to Robin. Cass says that Robin loves weapons.

Chaos ensues as Batman and Nightwing hold Robin while the rest of the heroes gossiping loudly. He could also see Spoiler just snickering while waving at them.

He sure loves chaos.

Part 3

[larluce]

Ok, to celebrate the Merlin is trend yet again. I'll share a Merthur prompt that occured to me yesterday.

I've read a couple of fics where Merlin is deaf, like he was born deaf or lost his hearing at a very young age, which leads to Arthur learning sign language to be able to comunicate with him. I love this concept, mostly cause I'm a big fan of sign language I think it's beautiful.

But what if Arthur was the deaf one and not Merlin?

Think about it. Royalty wasn't allowed to be nothing but perfect. Left handed princes were forced to learn to write with their right hand, because that was consider "defective". Now imagine having a dishability! It was disastrous!

I imagine Uther forcing Arthur to learn how to read lips and talk with a normal voice so nobody knows he's deaf. The King makes almost a requirement that people must be infront of the prince when they talk to him and never talk to him when his back is turned, saying this is to show their respect properly. Also Uther makes Arthur only speak with other people when strictly necessary. This, of course, makes Arthur feel miserable and lonely.

Years go by and Merlin arrives in Camelot. Their first meeting and later confrontation on the street happens mostly the same, just adding Merlin constantly turning his back on Arthur, despite Arthur telling him to speak to him to his face (this annoys Arthur particularly for obvious reasons).

Then Merlin saves his life, but this time Arthur isn't affected by lady Helen singing because he can't hear her. And he is way more observant thanks to his lack of hearing, so he clearly notices Merlin was in the other side of the room one second and next to him in the next when Merlin pulls him away of the direction of the knife.

So when Uther is about to reward Merlin, Arthur says just that.

Arthur: How is that you came here in time? You were on the other side of the room! Weren't you affected by the echantament?

Merlin: (nervous) I... Well...

Uther: (suspicious) Couldn't it be you are an ally of this witch boy?

Gaius: (to Merlin's rescue) Is not that, my lord. Merlin could safe the prince in time because he couldn't be affected by the singing at all. He's deaf.

This is a lie, Merlin is not deaf, but his mother is. Gaius is saying this just to save him and Merlin gets it inmediatly so he plays along.

Uther: (to Merlin) Is this true?

Merlin: (speaks in a "deaf voice" as he signs at the same time) Yes, your majesty.

Uther: I see...

Arthur: (looks what Merlin did with his hands with curiosity)

Uther: Well, as I was saying. Your act today merits something quite especial. From now on you'll be the Prince's manservant!

Later. When Arthur and Merlin are alone in Arthur's chambers.

Arthur: How did you do it?

Merlin: What?

Arthur: Get to me in time.

Merlin: Gaius explained. I'm deaf.

Arthur: Is not just that you didn't hear the singing. You were too far!

Merlin: I run fast.

Arthur: That's not true! I didn't see you running, you just appeared at my side.

Merlin: Well, how could you know? You were asleep, weren't you?

Arthur: (thinking) Fuck... (Says) You're right...It just... seemed like it because I fell asleep. (Sits on his desk and starts reading some scrolls) You are not needed now. Leave.

Merlin: (puts himself on Arthur's line of vision) I know... about you.

Arthur: (nervous) I don't know what you mean.

Merlin: You are deaf (makes the sign of "deaf")

Arthur: (laughs) I'm not.

Merlin: You weren't affected by the singing.

Arthur: That's not true. (Thinking) I was careful to pretend to fall asleep like the others.

Merlin: I also called you ungrateful royal ass when we were heading here and you had your back turned at me like ten times and you never once answered.

Arthur: ...

Merlin: I must say your speaking voice is quite impressive-

Arthur: (stands up abruptly and points at Merlin's throat with his sword)

Merlin: (lifts his hands) Wow! This is what I get for saving your life? A very ungrateful ass indeed.

Arthur: (afraid he's secret will come out) I will kill you right there.

Merlin: There's no need for this! I won't tell anyone!

Arthur: (more panic mode) Nobody can't know! If you dare to say something-

Merlin: (shouts) I HAVE MAGIC!

Arthur: ...

Arthur: (thinking maybe he didn't read Merlin's lips correctly) What?

Merlin: I have magic. That's why I wasn't affected by the singing and that's how I got to you in time. I also dropped the chandelier on her. I used magic. See? Now you know a secret of mine that could get me killed. So I'm not going to give you away

Arthur: (puts down his sword slowly) So... you are not really deaf? (Kind of dissapointed cause he though he finally find a person like him that could understand him)

Merlin: (surprised Arthur puts more attention to this fact than the fact that he is a sorcerer) No, but my mom is. That's partly how I figured you out. You remind me of her.

Arthur: (remembering the sign language) You did something with your hands before, while speaking.

Merlin: Oh, that's a language my mother tought me to be able to comunicate with her better 😊! We have a hand gesture for every letter, a, b, c, d, e (shows the sign as he mentions the letters) And also a sign for every word like table, run, angry, prince (does the last sign pointing at Arthur) It's easier for her like this. I know reading lips is exhausting. I translated her what other people were saying most of the time.

Arthur: (gets a bittersweet feeling, thinking on how this woman wasn't force to fit the standar and rather her son adapted himself to her needs) That's really nice. You are a good son. (smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes). I won't tell anybody about you either. You don't have to worry.

Merlin: (relieved, but also notices his sadness) I could teach you if you like. My mom's language.

Arthur: (shakes his head) I can't be seen learning a deaf language.

Merlin: They don't have to know is for you. As far as everyone knows I'm the one who is deaf, remember? You can tell them you're learning it for me so you can comunicate with your deaf servant better.

Arthur: And would they buy it?

Merlin: I mean you are not precisly known for being kind to your servants, but it's worth a try. What do you say?

Arthur: (smiles genuinely this time) I would like to.

So Merlin teaches Arthur the language and his life gets better from then on. Merlin is always with Arthur in every meeting or interaction with other nobels and translates him what he didn't catch. It becomes a common occurrence seeing the prince and his servant comunicating in this particular way in the halls. Then Morgana (one of the few that knew about Arthur's secret) and Gwen start learning it too, bringing even more attention from outside view.

Then Uther, angry cause he thinks this could lead to Arthur's secret been revealed, tries to send Merlin away. Arthur argues with him for that of course, sometimes signing furiosly as he speaks.

Uther: Stop making those hand movements for godsake! You look like a retarded!

Arthur: (doesn't speak and signs furiously instead) Oh, you don't like when I sign? Well look!

Uther: What was that? Speak.

Arthur: (signs) It doesn't feel good not understanding what someone says, does it?

Uther: I said speak!

Arthur: (shouts) I said it doesn't feel good when you don't understand what someone says, does it?! To have make an extrordinary effort to just get a word right everytime someone as much as opens their mouth!

Uther: ...

Uther: Arthur-

Arthur: I finally found a way to comprehend better the world around me thanks to Merlin. And instead of seing it as an opportunity, you want to take that away from me!

Uther: You were fine before.

Arthur: I wasn't!

Uther: Well, you won't die because you can't do some hand gestures. This is stopping. Now!

Arthur: (takes a deep breath) Alright, I won't do it ever again. But let Merlin stay. (Begs) Please.

Uther: The boy can stay.

Arthur: (with gritted teeth) Thank you, father. (Bows and leaves)

Morgana: (enters the room having heard the whole conversation from outside) You must know this will kill him.

Uther: He's just being dramatic. It'll pass.

Morgana: My lord, you never once wondered... why Arthur didn't move?

Uther: What?

Morgana: When the blade of that witch was flying at him.

Uther: He was enchanted.

Morgana: He wasn't. He can't hear, the voice of Lady Helen couldn't reach him. So why didn't he move when he was completely aware and he had more than enough time to evade it?

Uther: ...

Morgana: Think about it, my lord. (Leaves)

Sometime later. After seeing his son doing his duties depressed, contrasting with how joyful he had been the last months, Uther decides to call Merlin to his chambers.

Merlin: Did you call for me, Sire?

Uther: What are those hand gestures you do that my son seems so obsessed with?

Merlin: My mom calls it "sign language", Sire.

Uther: So it is an actual language.

Merlin: Yes, there is a "hand gesture" for every letter and word.

Uther: (pauses) Could you... Teach it to me?

Merlin: (smiles brightly) Of course, Sire.

So Uther lets Arthur keep signing. One day he surprises him signing back and Arthur almost cries right there.

As time passes. More people learn to sign, first the knights so they can interact in silence during a mission (an idea proposed by Arthur). Then, since the King , the Prince and the King's ward interact like this constantly, it gains popularity as a "language of royals" so nobel families start using it too. Merlin teaches to sign to some of Gaius' pacients who have deaf relatives which leads to the language to spread to the lower town.

And about a decade later sign language is basically the official second language in Camelot.

That's all I got for now. I don't know how merthur would get together in this AU or how events of the series would unfold with this change like Nimueh or Morgause intervation. If you had any ideas, share it in the comments or reblogs. I'll be reading you ;)

[littlelovelunette]

Hii! It's my first request. Also, I'm obsessed with your writing, you're amazing 💝!

Hear me out >:) Knight!Sevika and her Queen!Reader who rules the kingdom with Sevika by her side. And they're super feared by everyone cuz their bong is unbreakable and that makes them really strong. (Been thinking about it since I found "Me and Mine" by The Brothers Bright SUCH A GOOD SONG)

The Crown

Knight!Sevika x Queen!Reader

The throne room was silent. Not the kind of silence born from peace, but the kind that bred fear. Nobles stood stiffly along the edges of the grand hall, their hands clasped in tight fists, their expressions carefully schooled into neutrality.

No one dared to whisper, to move, to even breathe too loudly in the presence of the Queen and her knight.You sat upon your throne, a vision of power draped in black and gold, a crown resting atop your head like a halo of authority.

And standing at your side, one hand resting on the hilt of her blade, was Sevika—your protector, your enforcer, your shadow. She was clad in dark armor, the steel molded to her body like a second skin, her scarred face half-illuminated by the torches that lined the stone walls.

Together, you were untouchable.

A kingdom ruled with iron and fire, fear and admiration intertwined so deeply that no one could tell the difference anymore. Enemies had tried to test your rule before—rebellions crushed before they could take root, assassins left gutted in the streets as warnings, traitors publicly executed by Sevika’s own hand. Your kingdom did not tolerate weakness, and neither did you.

The council had gathered today, murmuring about a noble house that dared to resist your rule, a lord who thought he could raise an army against you. Fools.

Sevika stepped forward, her presence alone enough to make grown men flinch. Her voice was gravel and thunder, cutting through the tension like a blade.

“The traitor has been handled,” she said simply, tossing a bloodied insignia onto the marble floor.It clattered, the only sound in the vast chamber. A crimson stain bloomed against the pristine white stone.

The message was clear. You didn’t react—didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. Instead, you leaned back, resting your chin against your fingers as you regarded the council with unreadable eyes.

“Do any others wish to challenge the crown?”

No one spoke. No one even looked up.Sevika smirked beside you, amused by the cowardice in the room. It was always the same—their bravado turned to dust the moment they realized just how unstoppable you were together.

No ruler was feared without a loyal blade by their side, and no knight was invincible without someone worth fighting for. And that’s what made you both terrifying.

Your bond was unbreakable. Sevika was not merely your knight. She was your executioner, your war general, your protector, your lover. There was no force in the world that could sever what you two had. Not war. Not betrayal. Not death itself.

A courier rushed into the throne room, his face pale, his breath ragged from running. “Your Majesty—Knight Commander—” he gasped, dropping to his knees. “There is a threat approaching the northern border. An army, unlike any we’ve seen before.”

Sevika tensed, but you remained still, your expression unreadable.

“How many?”

“T-Ten thousand, at least,” the courier stammered. “Led by the exiled Prince of Eldoria. They claim they will take the capital before the next moon rises.”A foolish claim.Sevika chuckled darkly, flexing her fingers.

“I hope they brought more than that. Otherwise, it’s not even a challenge.”You smiled, slow and knowing, your gaze sharp as a dagger. “Prepare the army. We ride at dawn.”Sevika grinned, stepping closer, her voice lower now, meant only for you.

“By your side, as always.” You reached out, tracing your fingers along the sharp edge of her jaw.

“And I by yours.”The room remained suffocatingly silent as your people watched in awe and terror. No kingdom, no army, no enemy could stand against you—not when Sevika was your shield and you were her Queen.And soon, the battlefield would bear witness to why.

[thebestsugar]

bunny hybrid!yandere x pissed off empress!reader

Imagine a bunny hybrid who's main role in life is to kill for the elites of his burrow. He is set to rule his burrow until it is destabilized, with he and his fellow elites tried for treason.

The poor man, being as beautiful as he was, was spared and gifted to an unprecedentedly young empress.

Everyone knew what he'd done to her, to her family.

"Do you remember me?" she asks as he is presented to her in her throne room.

"Of course," he says, smiling as ruthlessly as he did that day. Though he is bound in both chains and powerful enchantments, he looks strong. "How's your scar?"

"Bold question." You smile back, but you're sure it doesn't reach your eyes. You force yourself to not touch the healed gash on your collarbone. "You'll learn better."

I've become stronger.

But what happens if the poor bunny is not as cold as he seems?

includes; femdom, revenge, oral (fem receiving), degradation and masochism (yan receiving/being), forced marriage, dubcon, hurt little comfort

“I mustn't give in to temptation, Your Highness… To give in to such beastly, masculine instincts…”

You tear the man down to his knees by his hair. "It's 'Your Majesty' now. You made sure of that.

“And I don't care about any of that. You're mine, now. You're in heat, so let loose, according to my command.”

“B-But…” The man began to plead, covering his growing erection with his hands. “It's my first time doing this… I don't want to be like the other dumb bunnies that hop around the moment they're sent off… I'm the next on line…”

This killer? A prude? A VIRGIN? you think. Laughable. He was surely old enough to not speak like a shy sweetie?

“How will they know? Come here.” You shove his worried face into your crotch. “Lick and suck like a good slut.”

“Mmph—”

“This tongue is mine to use. You're just a tongue now, understand? Tonight, you're just a pussy wiper.”

The terrifying man has tears in his crystal clear eyes.

Why is he so complacent? you wonder.

He his tongue begins to search your tight pussy, lapping at his mess every few seconds. He brings both hands to your hips. He begins to run his chin, fucking his tongue into your eager cunt. You hold his head to steady yourself, stepping in his pathetic cock all the while.

“Nng… Slut… Slut!” you scream out, on the verge of crying. You bounce up and down, crushing his cock and violating his virgin mouth. He grips you tighter, tears now streaming down his murderously beautiful face. You want to hit him, but you settle for degrading him like the bitch he was. You call him a slut, whore, monster— You say that he's lower than dirt, lower than nothing.

You want to die on his lips so he could feel what you felt.

“Fuck… Fuck… Nng…!” You suffocate him with your lust, choking him with your hedonistic flood.

So rough! he thinks. This confuses him, since he lived for and with extreme roughness and callousness. How was this different? Was it because it was… sex? Tonight, it seemed, he found himself numb and dazing out.

“You like that, slut? You like that?” you pant, snatching his head away. He is silently weeping, puppy dog eyes both begging for more and begging for a break.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty…”

“For what?”

“A-About your family… I'm truly sorry…”

You fill with pure, unbridled rage. Why would apologize now, of all times?!

What a buzz killer.

“Get me a belt,” you say, stepping away, “one of yours.”

[crooked-hourglass]

Recap of my mangled thoughts after my first Ritual in Manchester!

Spoilers under the read more

Forgive me for spelling mistakes - its late and emotions are high! We were so close to the stage. We were in the first block and in the second row and we were level with the stage so we could see them so well. We were practically next to Swiss, and Cirrus was behind him on the keyboards. There was a raised track all the way around the stage and Phantom interacted with us so much and his little dances were adorable. Rain, Dew and Papa also came to interact with us so many times. Dew tried to throw a pick over the gap but it didnt quite make it. Most of the Ghouls were wearing platform Doc Martens and Phantom and Rain looked particularly good in them. Rain, Swiss, and rhe Ghoulettes were wearing habits, and at one point Rain headbanged too hard and the habit flipped over his face 🙃.

The setlist was immaculate, and the staging was so impressive. They started with the usual big black curtain that dropped to show the stage in the usual Ghost setup but with the additional raised section around the sides and back. Everytime Dew came to our side he'd take the lonf way back all the way round the back of the stage. And I got to witness a Dew Cirrus fist bump as he was doing his rounds around the stage. And phantom and Dew played together at the back but i couldnt tell if you could see that from the front. I couldnt see Aurora or the new Ghoulette, but the verdict is in, Cirrus is still hot. And Aurora had the wings from the music video! Also I can't believe I finally saw a mummy dust keytar solo live! There was another curtain covering the back wall of the stage, that dropped after a few songs to reveal the usual windows, but the projections on to them were amazing! Especially when they shattered to reveal a night sky that change to a sunrise when they played 'He Is'. Those windows then fell to reveal an entire wall of screens that had amazing visual effects. And let me say it was so refreshing to not see AI generated effects on screen at a concert. There was pyro, fireworks, the lighting was gorgeous and of course there is new Mummy Dust! Which I'm hoping to get on Sunday 🤞

There was a moment where it was just Phantom on the stage, interacting with the crowd and encouraging cheers etc, and it was so nice to watch him have his moment, and Dew had a bit of a moment too. Plus the top hat looked so good on Phantom - and on Dew! Oh! And the gave Swiss a cowbell! Cowbell ghoul lives on! What I will say about the costumes is that they were VERY tight and I think it was a bit of an issue with the boys if you catch my drift.

Now onto Papa V - he was the perfect balance of sweet and playful, and a bit darker than Copia. His outfits were incredible. For 'Majesty' he was on a pedestal behind Mountain and was wearing these long ornate robes with a huge collar. The pedestal rose up, alonf with the giant grucifix that was made of lights that hung above the stage. His robes for 'Ritual' I loved! They were black with a chrome spine and hip bones and what looked like a tail that went to the end of his robes. The back of the ghouls sleevless tail coats also had fabric that was rouched to look like ribs. The new costumes were all fantastic. And Papa still had his sparkly jackets still! A silver one during the main set and a purple/pink one during the encore. He also had a black jacket that had glitter diamonte detailed like spider webs across. The amount of sparkle on this tour is exquisite. Papa sounded so clear and so so good, and the ghoulette and Swiss backing vocals were incredible. The new songs sound great and I'm so excited for the new album.

On the no phones thing, I only slightly freaked out because I couldn't find one of the people I went with at one point. But overall, I loved the energy of an arena filled with people interacting and focused on the show. I just wish there was more communication beforehand to how the tickets worked and if you needed to print them. But now you can see half of Papa's face, you can tell he was so happy with the show.

Overall, I couldn't have asked for a better first ritual with better seats. Because standing at shows takes it out of me for days after so to get such a view and get so close and still be able to walk after is amazing.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello again everyone! Thank you all so much for the overwhelming support for the last part of the "Merlin accidentally conquers Camelot" au! I've had so much fun writing this au, and I'm so glad that you've all enjoyed it too! This will probably be the final part of this au (for now), since I have more au ideas to share with you all, but I'll probably revisit this au some day! For now, I'm approaching two pretty big tumblr milestones, so I'm working on an extra-special au to post in celebration of those (and I won't give anything away, but I think that this new au may be my best one yet, so stay tuned)!

Also, warning, this one is a long post! Be prepared!

Now, onto part four of this au! You can find part one here, part two here, and part three here!

As it turned out, planning a royal wedding was no easy feat.

Merlin had thought that simply adding a quick and (hopefully) painless wedding ceremony at the end of his coronation would make everything go smoothly. After all, the castle would already be decorated, they'd already have all of the important lords in attendance, and everything needed for a consort's coronation ceremony would already be there.

However, when Merlin announced to the lords and the steward in charge of preparing his coronation ceremony that he'd also need a quick wedding and coronation to take Arthur as his consort, they reacted with so much shock and horror that Merlin thought for a second that he'd accidentally announced that he was ordering their executions instead. The only person in the council room who didn't look like death itself had just appeared before him was Gwaine, who took advantage of he shocked silence following Merlin's proclamation to start laughing so uncontrollably that he doubled over and had to grab the wall for support.

Merlin had expected some shock and pushback from the council at his decision, not... this. All of the lords on the council had gone as pale as parchment, some trembling in their seats with fear. What on earth...

"Sire," the ever-unflappable Geoffrey called out, jolting Merlin from his confusion at the state of terror that had gripped the other council members, "while such a marriage would not be unlawful, it would certainly be unprecedented. I'm not questioning your judgement, I know that establishing yourself as a strong ruler this early in your reign is paramount, but are you sure that this is the best way to go about it? I'm certain that the citizens of Camelot will accept you as their rightful ruler as soon as they witness their true power for themselves, so taking the former king as your war prize isn't entirely necessary to show your dominance over the land."

The lords grew several shades paler at Geoffrey's words, and the trembling councilman sitting next to Geoffrey leaned in to fearfully hiss something into the librarian's ear. Merlin watched with growing confusion as Geoffrey's eyes went wide at whatever had just been whispered to him, and he rushed to speak once more.

"Of course, if this decision was made as some form of revenge or humiliation towards the Pendragon line, that is well within your right as a conqueror, Your Majesty. We would simply advise you to take the disgraced king as a concubine, perhaps, instead of your official consort. As a ruler, you must now also consider the issue of one day producing legitimate heirs, which can only be borne to you through your consort."

Merlin blinked, desperately trying to follow whatever logic Geoffrey was using. Take Arthur as a concubine?! Had the old man gone insane?! And Merlin certainly wasn't concerned about heirs, since if he got his way, then his reign wouldn't last longer than this week!

Still, with most of the council looking like they were being plagued by waking nightmares, they weren't likely to listen to Merlin's very reasonable objections to being king in the first place, so Merlin just had to get them off his back until the wedding.

After a deep sigh, which made most of the council members flinch back with a still confusing amount of fear, Merlin addressed Geoffrey's concerns.

"Thank you for your input, but I'm afraid that my decision has already been made on this... issue. I will be taking Arthur as my consort at my coronation, and my decision is final. And don't concern yourself with the topic of heirs, that will be sorted out shortly."

Several lords choked on the air at Merlin's last comment, with a couple outright fainting at his words. Merlin's brows furrowed even more with befuddlement. What... what had he said that garnered such a reaction?! He was just telling them not to worry about it!

(Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Merlin, the lords had a very different idea of what their new king- a powerful, brutal warlord and sorcerer- had planned. They interpreted Merlin's intent to marry Arthur as an act of revenge against the son of the man who killed off so many of his people during the purge. It apparently wasn't enough for the mighty Emrys to defeat his enemy and leave him with nothing to his name. No, this ruthless new king of theirs planned on forcing the former king into a life of humiliation and servitude in the court that was once his own. To a king, that must be a fate worse than death.

These lords, who were some of the most active and complicit members of Uther's purge, looked at the punishment that Emrys had planned for Arthur and thought if that's what happened to the king, what's he going to do to us?!)

The days went by quickly after that meeting, with Merlin's time being filled with a never-ending list of his new duties and things that needed to be done before his coronation, not to mention organizing the coronation itself and the subsequent wedding (which Arthur didn't know about yet, as Merlin had been deliberately avoiding the dungeons after his last conversation with Arthur).

It took the better part of a week for everything to finally be prepared for the official coronation ceremony. The ceremony itself would consist of Merlin being crowned in front of the court (a nauseating thought for Merlin himself), the vassal lords and knights willing to swear fealty to him taking the oath of loyalty, and finally Arthur being handfasted to Merlin and crowned consort.

Merlin was, for once, thankful for the amount of work that he had to do over the days leading up to the ceremony, as it kept his mind busy and his thoughts away from the pit of self-loathing that had taken up permanent residence in his head. After all, what kind of friend stole everything from the person they love the most in the world and then turns around and forces that same friend (and unrequited crush) to marry them?!

Merlin had attempted to rationalize his selfish decision to keep Arthur in the dark regarding his plan to reinstate him as king by telling himself that if Arthur didn't know about the wedding until the last minute, then he would spend less time worrying about it in the long run after he was king again! Besides, if Merlin's plan worked, they would only be married for a day or two, so there was no reason to get Arthur worked up over that by telling him earlier!

Truly, Merlin was not being a complete scumbag by doing this, he was just looking out for his friend's best interests and mental wellbeing! This would all blow over in a a matter of days anyways, Merlin was certain of it.

Still, Merlin found himself anxious and pacing the floor of his room on the morning of the ceremony. He had sent a team of servants and guards to retrieve Arthur from his cell and prepare him for the ceremony, so he likely wouldn't see Arthur until he was brought into the great hall for the handfasting ceremony. However, he still worried over Arthur's reaction when he learned what exactly when was being prepared for.

This worry lingered in Merlin's mind and consumed his thoughts throughout the entire day and into the coronation ceremony, so much so that his own coronation seemed like a blur to him. One moment he was standing in the great hall in front of the assembled crowd of lords and knights, and in the next, he was sitting on Arthur's throne with Arthur's crown on his head, with the crowd shouting "long live the king".

The sound of it almost made Merlin sick. Those words should never be directed at him, but he'd make this right soon enough. He just had to suffer through this ceremony to appease those disloyal lords who had turned their backs on their true king.

Perhaps the worst part of the coronation itself was the ceremony in which the lords and knights willing to pledge their fealty to him took an oath declaring such. It was no surprise to Merlin to see those weasels on the council of lords pledging themselves to save their own skin, but the knights who showed up to pledge their fealty were... very unexpected.

Look, Merlin had assumed that it would just be Gwaine and a small handful of guards and younger knights that he had roped into his mischievous scheme swearing loyalty so him. All of the other knights with their wits intact would surely still be down in the cells of the dungeon, holding true to their prior oaths of loyalty and keeping their true king company.

What Merlin did not expect, however, was for nearly a quarter of all of Camelot's knights to take a knee before him and pledge their loyalty, led by a highly amused Gwaine, who was no doubt enjoying every minute of this. Merlin quickly scanned the crowd of knights, trying to take count of who all had turned their backs on Arthur and could no longer be trusted.

Gwaine, of course, came at no surprise. Many of those assembled were commoner knights whom Arthur had taken in, including Percival, but the giant regularly got pulled into Gwaine's nonsense, so this wasn't truly that much of a shock if Merlin thought about it. There were a fair number of noble-born knights in the crowd, including all of those whom Merlin had noted had a softer outlook on magic. And then, of course, there were a decent number of pompous, high-born knights who had never given a lick about magic or loyalty, they just wanted to preserve their own wealth and power no matter the cost.

Merlin narrowed his eyes at the cluster of those knights. All the rest had logical reasons to side with Merlin, between Gwaine's persuasiveness, solidarity between the lower class, or a connection or sympathy towards magic, so they would be allowed to stay in court after Arthur had retaken his rightful throne. But these knights? These cowardly snakes had to be dealt with at the first opportunity. But how could he get rid of them without people becoming suspicious?

... Wait a minute, Merlin was king now! He might only have that title for a day or so, but in that time, he could certainly use it! (And he absolutely was not using this as a tactic to prolong this part of the ceremony so that he had a few more minutes of peace before the wedding began.)

Right, but how was he going to play this? He couldn't exactly just announce that he wanted those knights to leave because he wanted them gone before Arthur took over again.

Merlin narrowed his eyes at the group of treacherous knights and noted how they squirmed a bit under his gaze, with even some of the people around them shuddering. Right, he looked like a ruthless and powerful sorcerer to them now. He could use that to his advantage.

As the knights finished reciting their oaths, Merlin held up his hand, signaling for them to stay in place. The knights did so, but a confused and concerned murmuring started buzzing around at this strange departure from the normal ceremony. Slowly, Merlin lifted his hand and pointed at the assembled group of knights in the back.

"You lot. In the back."

The murmuring died down the instant Merlin opened his mouth and was instead replaced by an oppressive dread weighing down the ornately decorated hall. If Merlin wasn't trying so hard to keep a straight, intimidating face, he would have winced at causing such a wave of fear with nothing more than a few words.

Hesitantly, one of the called out knights stepped forward, addressing their new king.

"Yes, your majesty? Is there something you require of us?"

Merlin held back the urge to smirk as an idea, and a very satisfying one at that, formed in his head. He quietly cleared his throat and put on his most imperious "Emrys" voice that he could muster.

"I can sense insincerity in your hearts with my magic. Just as you abandoned the previous king, you would also turn your backs on me at the first opportunity to do so. Do not even attempt to deny it, you know just as well as I do that this true. I cannot trust any such men as knights of mine."

The group of knights went pale as Merlin called them out for their flimsy loyalty, and at once whispers began fly in the crowd. Perhaps they were intrigued by this show of his "powers"? Were they scandalized by this public shaming of a group of high-ranking knights?

Either way, the knights immediately began groveling, begging Merlin to let them keep their positions, their wealth, their power, but Merlin dismissed them with a wave of a hand and publicly revoked their knighthoods. The murmuring of the remaining people in the great hall grew louder as the disgraced former knights made their way out of the hall, no doubt intimidated and scandalized by how quickly their new ruler was purging his court of the disloyal.

However, with the loyal knights having taken their oaths and the untrustworthy ones having been cast out, the coronation ceremony was now officially complete, meaning that Merlin could no longer stall what would come next.

Merlin sat still on his stolen throne, trying his best not to fidget with nervousness as Geoffrey gave some traditional speech that had to be done before the doors of the great hall opened to let consort walk down the aisle to the throne.

After a couple minutes, Geoffrey's monotonous voice became nothing but a buzzing in Merlin's ears as he stared at the doors of the hall, desperately trying to imagine any scenario where those doors wouldn't open to an Arthur who was filled with nothing but rage and betrayal.

All too soon, Geoffrey's droning speech ended, and the trumpets in the hall announced the arrival of the soon-to-be-consort and signaled for everyone of lower rank to stand. Merlin's heart leapt to his throat as he jumped to his feet, even though he was the only person in the room who didn't need to. Ever so slowly, the doors to the hall swung open, revealing... Arthur.

Merlin damn near choked on his own saliva at the sight of him. He had seen Arthur in a wide range of states over the years as his manservant, ranging anywhere from sleep-rumbled to solemnly prepared for battle. But this... he had never seen anything like it.

Merlin couldn't decide if whoever had been in charge of dressing Arthur and preparing him for the ceremony ought to either be promoted to Arthur's personal tailor or immediately banished. In place of Arthur's usual surcoat and chainmail for official ceremonies, which was what Merlin had foolishly assumed the servants would dress Arthur in, there was... a monstrosity that would haunt Merlin's dreams for the rest of his life.

Merlin didn't even know how to begin to describe it. The garment that the servants had no doubt forced Arthur into, as Merlin knew that he would never wear such a thing of his own accord, was somewhere between a set of intricately intertwined robes and a dress, which hugged Arthur's shoulders, upper arms, and thighs, highlighting the muscles there. Most of the outfit appeared to be made out of a rich velvet, dyed in a majestic royal blue that both looked entirely out of place on Arthur and brought out his eyes like nothing Merlin had ever seen before. And dear gods, was that lace on there?! And why the hell did the outfit need elbow-length lace gloves?!

(The servants who had been in charge of dressing Arthur for the ceremony had assumed that their brutal new warlord would probably want his war prize to look as far from a warrior as possible, in order to further prove that he had beaten the previous rulers. So, they selected a delicate and elegant outfit for Arthur in the hopes of appeasing their new king.)

Merlin swallowed dryly as Arthur slowly began making his way down the aisle with measured footsteps. The movement snapped Merlin out of whatever temporary madness the outfit had sent him spiraling into, and Merlin finally locked eyes with Arthur.

Merlin winced at the sheer amount of rage that Arthur managed to fit into one glare as he took another step towards the throne that was rightfully his. Merlin tried to give Arthur his most reassuring smile, but he was almost certain it only came across as a nervous grimace.

Just go along with this, Merlin tried to beg of Arthur with only his eyes. Their bond had always been one that allowed them to communicate without words, and Merlin prayed that their connection would hold strong once more and get his message across to Arthur.

Neither Arthur's impressive glare nor his furious scowl let up though, but he kept his pace towards the throne steady, which Merlin decided to take as a good sign. After all, if Arthur truly did not any merit to this impromptu plan, why would he still be walking of his own accord towards the altar?

Still, as Arthur grew closer and closer to the altar prepared for the handfasting, his eyes became darker with rage as Merlin winced. Yes, this would certainly be harder than it needed to be, but this had to be done to get Arthur back on the throne! Surely Arthur would understand that!

After what must have been an eternity, Arthur finally reached the altar and, ever so slowly, walked around to stand at a fidgeting Merlin's side.

As Geoffrey began yet another speech that had to be done before the handfasting took place, Merlin quietly turned to Arthur and gave him a small smile, trying to a least let Arthur know that everything was alright, that everything would turn out fine.

That little smile, it seemed, turned out to be the final straw for Arthur. Merlin wasn't even entirely sure how it happened.

One moment, he was standing next to Arthur in front of the altar, with the only sound in the room being Geoffrey's boring voice. And in the next, there was a savage war cry coming from Arthur, who was now armed with a sword, and a decent amount of screaming coming from the crowd.

It spoke volumes about Merlin's state of mind that his first thought upon seeing Arthur run at him with a blade in hand wasn't get back, dodge! but was rather that dress is tight, where on earth did he hide that sword?

However, Merlin's sense of self-preservation wasn't nearly as terrible as Gaius accused it of being, as his second thought was I should probably try to avoid getting stabbed at my own wedding.

Reluctantly, Merlin gathered his magic, ready to disarm Arthur and hold him still if need be. Arthur could stab Merlin later if he really felt like it, but Merlin needed to at least officially make Arthur his consort and heir before Arthur did that!

However, to Merlin's surprise, rather than trying to run Merlin through, Arthur instead stabbed at the wooden handfasting altar, sinking his blade deep into it. Merlin carefully kept his eyes on Arthur as the other man viciously pulled off one of the dainty lace gloves and threw it on the ground at Merlin's feet.

Dumbfounded, Merlin stared at the thrown glove on the floor and then looked back up to stare at Arthur, not quite getting what Arthur was trying to tell him here. Did he just really hate the outfit? Or was it this whole marriage plan that he objected to?

"Pick it up."

"Huh?"

Arthur nearly started growling, his rage apparently rising with Merlin's confusion.

"It may not be a proper gauntlet, since you have denied me such a dignity, but it will suffice for this. Pick it up, King Emrys. I challenge you to a duel in single combat for the throne of Camelot. You may have defeated my sister, but you did not defeat me! I am no prize for you to claim!"

Merlin simply blinked, completely thrown off by this turn of events, while loud shouts started erupting from the crowd. By the time his mind caught up to what Arthur had said, Arthur had taken up his sword from where he had struck it into the altar and was pointing it threateningly at Merlin again.

As Merlin's shock wore off and he finally understood what exactly Arthur had just done, he had to fight back the urge to scream into the sky with frustration as yet another one of his plans to reinstate Arthur as king had just been ruined by the obstinate clotpole himself. Couldn't the prat just let Merlin help?!

With his frustration rising, Merlin glared down at the thrown glove. While a duel would certainly allow Arthur to retake the throne, Merlin wasn't entirely sure how his magic would react to such a fight. Merlin would never consciously hurt Arthur of course, but who knows if his magic would strike out in self-defense?!

And, besides, formally accepting and preparing the duel would take days. And, in Merlin's opinion, this whole farce has gone on for long enough.

"No. I will not accept your challenge."

Arthur's face went red with anger at Merlin's refusal.

"You are just as much of a coward as the rest of your kind, sorcerer! You would not even grant me the opportunity to take back what's mine!"

Merlin bit back a frustrated scream at that. Arthur would be getting his throne back if he just followed through with any of Merlin's plans instead of ruining threm!

Merlin took a deep breath and sighed on the exhale, trying the rein in his own anger. He just needed to go through with this ceremony, and then everything would be fine.

With a quick flash of gold in his eyes, which had Arthur flinching back (and didn't that just sting?), Merlin turned Arthur's blade into dust had Arthur's glove fly back onto his hand, setting everything right as it had been before Arthur had pulled out a sword and all hell had broken loose.

"That's enough! I've been trying to restore you to your rightful position as king this entire time, and yet you push back at every opportunity! I am not about to let you sabotage your own destiny! So, here's what's going to happen!"

Distantly, Merlin heard the wind outside whipping around, like his own frustration and stirred nature itself into a frenzy.

"You are going to stand here, complete this ceremony, be named my heir, and then retake your throne when I abdicate! Are we clear?"

Arthur, who still looked rather shaken at Merlin's display of magic, scowled, but still nodded his head. Merlin, satisfied by this, turned back around to face the shocked crowd.

"And do I make myself clear to all of you?! There will be no more interruptions of this ceremony, and Arthur will take back his throne!"

The frightened crowd went silent at Merlin's outburst, seemingly relenting to Merlin's demands.

Merlin then turned to Geoffrey, who was still standing in front of the handfasting altar with the rope in his hands.

"Now, Geoffrey, I would greatly appreciate it if you would get a move on here. I don't want to wear this stupid crown for any longer than I have to."

The only indication that Geoffrey gave that he was surprised by Merlin's outburst was a mere uptake of his eyebrows, rather reminiscent of Gaius's signature look. Without further ado, Geoffrey tied Merlin and Arthur's hands together, declaring them to be now married in the eyes of the gods of the Old Religion.

(Merlin tried to ignore the hurt and longing that built up in his heart in that moment. How many times had he dreamed of something like this? But he never wanted it to happen like this. This was Merlin's dream come true, but it was all wrong. In that moment, Merlin didn't dare look at Arthur, too afraid of what his dearest friend thought about this grievous overstep of boundaries.)

Immediately after Geoffrey untied the handfasting knot, Arthur's coronation as consort began. The ceremony itself went smoothly, but Merlin's heart broke both at the sight of Arthur kneeling before him, waiting to be crowned, and at the furious glare Arthur gave him as he gently put the consort's crown upon Arthur's head, officially naming Arthur as his heir.

As soon as Arthur stood from where he was kneeling, applause broke out from the crowd. Someone (Merlin heavily suspected Gwaine) started a chant of "long live the kings!", which caught on quickly. Merlin winced again at the chant, not daring to turn and look at Arthur's face.

Still, Merlin reminded himself as he took a deep, calming breath, everything was coming along. Arthur was now officially his consort and heir, and all that was left to do... was the copious amounts of paperwork finalizing his abdication.

Yeah, no. Merlin wasn't going through that process when he could just take care of it here and now.

"Citizens of Camelot, on this most joyous day, I, King Emrys, abdicate the throne!"

Even though he had made his intentions clear only a few minutes earlier, shocked whispers flew around the crowd, like they hadn't truly believed that he would go through with it.

Merlin couldn't help the grin that was forming on his face. Finally, everything would be set right again!

"I am no longer your king, and as per the laws of the kingdom, the throne now rightfully belongs to your true king, Arthur Pendragon!"

With that, Merlin reached up and yanked the crown off of his own head, marched over to a dumbfounded Arthur and, without any hesitation, replaced the consort's crown on Arthur's head with the true crown.

"There, that's much better," Merlin whispered to himself as he gazed upon Arthur, finally looking like himself again, but he was certain that Arthur must have heard it too, as Arthur's eyes went wide at his words.

But that was a conversation for another day, as Merlin was now done here. This entire calamity was over, and now Merlin was going to savor its end.

Merlin turned back to face the crowd once more with an undoubtedly crazed grin.

"Goodnight everyone! Be sure to obey your true king! In the meanwhile, I'm off to bed for my first full night's rest since this nightmare started!"

And with that, Merlin merrily skipped out of the great hall, made his way to his cramped room in Gaius's chambers, and slept soundly.

Bonus Scene!

THE NEXT DAY:

Arthur: Busts into Merlin's room

Merlin, unwillingly woken up from the best sleep he's gotten in years: Ugh, what do you want you prat?! You're king again, aren't you?! Don't you have kingly duty to be attending to?

Arthur: Merlin you idiot, you abdicated the throne.

Merlin: Yes, and now you're king again. You're welcome!

Arthur: But you never dissolved our union!

Merlin: Huh?

Arthur: A divorce can only be granted by the same ruler who authorized the marriage! You know what this means, right?!

Merlin: Yeah, that you can just declare us to be not married anymore and we can all be on our way.

Arthur: No, YOU were the ruler who authorized the marriage, and now that you've abdicated, you can't dissolve the marriage! Legally, no one can!

Merlin, turning pale: What?

Arthur, looking weary: Yes, apparently it's some legal technicality that Geoffrey cited from Bruta's code. I've spent all morning arguing with him, but there seems to be no way around it.

Merlin: So... what you're saying is that we're stuck being married to each other.

Arthur: Yes, you buffoon, that's exactly what I'm saying! Now, get up!

Merlin, feeling incredibly guilty over this entire situation: Arthur, I'm so sorry, I take full responsibility for this, I never should have forced you into-

Arthur, cutting him off: Let's go. We don't have much time before the rest of the castle is up and about, and I'd rather us not be seen here.

Merlin, confused but complying: Arthur, where are we going? Why don't you want us to be seen here?

Arthur, blushing: It would reflect poorly on the king if word got out that he let his consort sleep in this dirty broom closet on their wedding night, wouldn't it?

Merlin, blushing: Ah, I suppose it would.

And that's a wrap for this au for now! I hope you've all enjoyed this story!

A huge thank you for everyone who asked for this continuation! (and holy cow there were a lot of you!! Thank you all so much!)

@magic-mushroomss @miyriu @whole-buncha-snakess @achillesuwu @aerismoon

@tidalwavesandthunderstorms @marki9 @isaidno @retro-wallflower @samwinjester

@lascienzadellafantasia @sugar-coated-prat-dragon @theoldfroglady @ryeallytired @mind-of-a-crow

@whynotreinventmyselfeveryday @likeapaperplane @odinjm @orliththedragon @aglmry

@caraspud @aostrek-236 @justaz @slippysalt @coffee-shop-gay

@the-king-and-the-druidess @theroundbartable @fanfic-library-for-me @linotheghost @scuttlingsleipnir

@guiltyscarlet @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu @247merthur @veryroadpartystatesman-blog @verxen

@lascienzadellafantasia @jareicanon @arrowlovesdragons @juliairian @thesuperstitiousoldelf

@lovermyme @bootprivileges @rem-the-moth @hippielittlemetalhead @ole-to-you-nonetheless

@lordmushroomkat @starchaos01 @reynaharmonia @anastasia0614 @starlight-crow

@wheneverfeasible @savlikesbluengreen @fuckingdeadinsidetm @notquitehumanwrites @purplesandwichtiger

@rocks-d-xerxes @olli-is-a-fish @luluzealand2565 @dangerhumming @tireddruid

@spiralingtowardtheabyss @mundaneone @anxiousdragoncollector @catface233 @bennedict

@elementalpirate4 @bertolio @vadis-protenus @chaosofbelievers @floating-on-avalon

@merthurogies @justaz

And, as always, thank you all for reading through my ramblings! :D

I'll see you all next time!

[that-hazbin]

Things Alastor Has Definitely Said 8

This one's basically a whole story on its own.

Alastor: Sorry to cut this short, Charlie, but I have a witch to burn!

Charlie: Who, Susan?

Vaggie: He meant me.

Charlie: What?! Why?!

Alastor: She threw out my morphine.

Vaggie: First of all, I thought it was Angel's. And second, I didn't know you had endometriosis!

Alastor: I don't care. Burn.

Charlie: Wait, WAIT—!

—

Angel: You're okay with telling us your conditions but you couldn't tell us Adam nearly sliced you in two?

Alastor: I don't like pity, and for some reason, people pity injuries caused by others quite a lot more than chronic conditions like this.

Angel: Huh...

Alastor: Which I find backwards considering my uterus is causing me more pain than Adam's pathetic blade ever did.

—

Alastor: I'm off to a meeting, I'll be back in about two weeks!

Lucifer: What sort of meeting lasts two fucking weeks?

Alastor: The kind where I get my ovaries removed with angelic steel.

Lucifer:

Alastor: See you in a fortnight, my good man!

Lucifer: ... Oh shit, wait, that could for real kill him—

—

Charlie: ... Alastor, why are you hogtied in the hotel lobby?

Alastor: Ask your father.

Angel: Kinky.

Alastor: Angel, I hear you're exceptionally talented at fucking yourself. I suggest you go do that.

—

Husk: Uh, boss—

Alastor: I am undergoing excruciating, very not fun pain, Husker. If you even think about cutting me off before I'm properly blackout drunk, you will be forced to attend Charlie's one-on-one therapy sessions for the next month.

—

Lucifer: Alright, I've had it! You've been driving everyone insane! You want the pain to go away? Get over here!

Alastor: I'm not that suicidal, your majesty, I'd rather look for other pain relief methods.

Lucifer: What? No, I'm not gonna kill you, I wouldn't have tied you up and left you in the lobby if I— wait what do you mean "that" suicidal?

Alastor: It comes and goes.

—

Alastor: Morning, chums!

Vaggie: You're... cheery.

Alastor: I had a good night!

Angel: Yeah, with Lucifer's magical healing co— hERK!

Vaggie: Shut the fuck up!

Alastor: Oh dear, don't make me start liking you now, Vaggie, it'll ruin the joy in all my future revenge plans!

[brunchable]

Winter King, Part Three : Cruel Summer. . .

Pairings: King AU Bucky Barnes x Out of place Queen Reader Words: 17.4K Themes: Royaltycore AU, love and power, Arranged Marriage, georgian/regency era misogyny, profanity, Eventual Smut. Summary: Y/N finds herself struggling to prove that she’s more than just a pawn in this dangerous game of power. But when Winnifred demands answers, it’s not just Y/N’s loyalty to the king being tested—it’s her resolve to carve out a place for herself in a world determined to see her fail. A/N: Inspired by Queen Charlotte. I must say I love the chase scene between Steve and Y/N here HEHEHE. Let me know what's your fave scene? I'm actually curious about what ya'll want to see next ;) credits to the gif owners, it ain't mine.

Your fingers played nervously along the rim of your teacup, your gaze flicking to the tall windows that overlooked the estate gardens. It should have been a peaceful view. Instead, it only reminded you of how small you felt within the grand expanse of this new life.

Opposite you, the Dowager Queen, Winnifred Barnes, was the very picture of feminine authority. Even in the soft light, she seemed to carry the shadows of experience with her, the weight of a crown long set aside but never truly removed. Her eyes, a steely blue that seemed to pierce through all pretenses, were trained on you with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” you murmured politely, dipping your head in a respectful nod as she took her seat.

“Y/N,” she acknowledged with a curt nod, her gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. She motioned to the staff, who swiftly poured the tea and set delicate plates of pastries before you both. The clinking of porcelain was the only sound in the room until the servants exited, leaving you alone in silence.

Winnifred took a slow sip of her tea, her eyes never leaving your face. “I thought it best we have breakfast today,” she began, her tone measured but holding an edge that made your heart quicken. “After all, there’s much to discuss following last night’s... eventful proceedings.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but the knot in your stomach tightened. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

She set her cup down, her gaze on you sharpening. “How did you find your first night as a married woman?”

It was a simple question, and yet difficult to answer. You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. The truth of it all was still a bitter pill to swallow—that you’d spent your wedding night alone, while Bucky had left for his estate in Annecy. A flash of disappointment coursed through you, but you tamped it down, forcing a polite smile.

“It was... different,” you said cautiously, choosing each word with care. “We still have much to learn about one another.”

Winnifred’s brow arched ever so slightly, a glimmer of disapproval, or perhaps curiosity—lighting in her gaze. 

“Different, is it?” She leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering to a deceptively soft tone. “You mean to say that he left.”

Your breath caught, but you nodded, refusing to drop your gaze. “Yes, Your Majesty. He thought it best, given the circumstances.”

For a moment, the Dowager Queen was silent, her eyes studying you. Then, slowly, she tilted her head, the corners of her lips curving into something that might have been a smile—if it weren’t so sharp. 

“And you... let him go?” she asked, each word pronounced with a chilling clarity that made your chest tighten.

You blinked, taken aback. “I—”

“You didn’t make him stay?” she pressed, her tone holding a note of challenge. “You are his wife now, Y/N. The Queen of this realm. It is your duty to keep him by your side.”

The words struck like a lash, the implications behind them sinking deep. You opened your mouth, struggling for a response that wouldn’t sound weak or defensive. 

“I... I didn’t think it was my place to—”

“Your place?” Winnifred interrupted, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. “Your place is precisely what you make of it. Do not expect him—or anyone else—to show you the respect you deserve unless you demand it.”

Her gaze bore into you, and you felt yourself shrinking. There was no malice in her words, no cruelty—only a harsh kind of truth that left you reeling.

“I didn’t want to—” You paused, taking a steadying breath. “I didn’t want to force him. We... barely know each other, Your Majesty. I thought it best to give him space.”

Winnifred leaned back slightly, her eyes never leaving your face. “Space?” she echoed, her voice low. “You have given him space, Y/N. Now watch how quickly it turns into distance.”

She was right, of course. Bucky’s absence already felt like a chasm between you, one that you weren’t sure how to bridge.

“You are a queen now,” Winnifred continued softly, the steel in her gaze tempered by something gentler—something almost like understanding. “But more importantly, you are his wife. And being a wife means more than simply standing by his side in public. It means holding your ground in private. Pushing him when he needs to be pushed. Because if you don’t...” 

She trailed off, her eyes searching yours. “If you don’t, then others will step in to fill that space you so graciously allowed.”

The implication hung in the air like a warning, and you swallowed hard, the reality of her words washing over you. This was about more than just Bucky leaving for the night. It was about control, power, and the dynamics that would shape your marriage—and the kingdom.

You straightened your spine, meeting her gaze with as much resolve as you could muster. “I understand, Your Majesty. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

Winnifred’s lips curved into a faint smile—one that was both approving and calculating. “Good,” she murmured. “Because while my son may be king, it is the queen who sets the tone of the court.”

She lifted her teacup once more, taking a measured sip. “Now, tell me what else happened last night. Did he say anything that would suggest his intentions regarding your marriage?”

You hesitated, recalling the heated exchange with Bucky, and a message passed on to you shortly after he left. “He... spoke about needing time,” you said quietly. “Time to adjust. But he assured me that I am the only one he’s loyal to.”

“Did he now?” Winnifred’s gaze darkened, but there was a glimmer of something like pride in her eyes. “That is a start, at least. But loyalty is not the same as affection.”

You nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond.

“Listen to me, Y/N,” Winnifred continued, her tone soft but unyielding. “He may keep his distance now, but do not let it remain that way. You must find a way to close that gap. The sooner you do, the sooner the court will fall in line. Show them that you are a force to be reckoned with—both as a queen and as his wife.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Winnifred’s gaze softened just a fraction, and she set her teacup down gently, fingers tracing the delicate handle as if recalling a distant memory. 

“There was a time,” she began, her voice quieter now, “when I, too, thought loyalty was enough. When I believed that if I simply did as expected—kept quiet, remained the dutiful wife—things would naturally fall into place.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in her tone. Winnifred rarely spoke of herself, of her past. It was as if every part of her life before the crown was locked away, buried beneath layers of duty and decorum.

“But I learned,” she continued, her eyes taking on a distant, almost wistful look, “that being quiet, being passive, only serves to diminish your place in the marriage. To let others dictate your worth.”

She leaned forward slightly, her gaze locking onto yours with a newfound intensity. “So, I stopped being passive. I took control—not just for myself, but for the kingdom. And for him.” Her expression softened, but there was a sadness there, too. “Because even kings can falter. Even kings need someone to remind them of their place. Their worth. Their responsibilities.”

You stared at her, feeling as though you were seeing the Dowager Queen in a new light—a woman who had fought for her own place in a world determined to silence her.

“What I’m saying, Y/N,” she murmured softly, “is that you cannot let James dictate the course of your marriage. You must stand firm, push him if need be, and make him see you. Truly see you. If you don’t, you will always be the girl who stood in the shadows, watching others take your place.”

You swallowed hard, the force of her words settling deep within you. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I won’t forget that.”

Winnifred nodded, a small, approving smile playing on her lips. “See that you don’t. Because once you have his attention—once he realizes the strength you hold—he will never let you go.”

She straightened, the softness in her gaze receding, replaced once more by the composed authority of a queen. “Now, eat, my dear. You’ll need your strength for whatever comes next.”

And as you reached for your fork, her advice settled over you like an invisible crown—one you’d have to wear with as much grace and power as you could muster. Because from now on, this marriage would be yours to shape, yours to control.

× × × ×

High ceilings of the grand council chamber stretched above, adorned with elaborate chandeliers that cast glittering reflections onto the polished marble floors. The long, gleaming table in the center of the room was flanked by dark wooden chairs, each occupied by men whose expressions were masks of restrained curiosity and barely concealed tension.

The Dowager Queen, stood at the head of the table, her regal posture unyielding as she faced the most powerful men in the kingdom of Montelune. Prime Minister Nick Fury, with his one good eye keenly observing every subtle shift in the room, sat closest to her, his fingers steepled thoughtfully. Around him were the Duke of Hanover, Lord Pierce, and Lord Rumlow—all high-ranking noblemen with a vested interest in the stability and future of the crown.

The men exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes occasionally flickering toward the dowager as if uncertain how to broach the subject that loomed over them like a dark cloud.

Finally, it was Fury who cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Your Majesty, I trust you are well-rested?” His voice was smooth, but the weight of unspoken questions hung heavy in the air.

Winnifred’s gaze was cool as she regarded him, one eyebrow arching ever so slightly. “Rested enough,” she replied crisply. “Thank you, Prime Minister.”

Another awkward silence settled over the room, and the noblemen shifted uncomfortably in their seats. There was something almost comical about seeing men of such power and influence falter in the presence of a single woman, but Winnifred knew the source of their unease. It wasn’t just her title or her presence that made them wary—it was the nature of the matter at hand.

Lord Pierce leaned forward, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally managed to speak. “Your Majesty, we... we thought it prudent to gather today to, ah... discuss certain affairs.”

The Dowager Queen’s lips twitched in a faint semblance of a smile. “Affairs?” she repeated softly, her tone laced with just enough amusement to make him squirm.

“Yes, well,” Pierce continued, his face reddening slightly, “it is... as you might understand, a rather delicate matter. One that pertains to... er, ensuring the continuation of the royal line.”

Winnifred’s eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head, considering him with a look that could cut glass. “Are you inquiring whether the consummation of the marriage has taken place, Lord Pierce?” she asked bluntly.

The man’s flush deepened, and he coughed awkwardly. “Well, not in so many words, Your Majesty, but—”

“Say what you mean, Pierce,” Fury interjected dryly, his gaze unwavering as he looked between the dowager and the other noblemen. “We all know why we’re here. There’s no need to dance around it.”

“Indeed,” the Dowager Queen agreed, a steely edge creeping into her voice. “And let us dispense with the niceties, shall we? The answer is no. Nothing happened last night.”

Her words fell like a stone into a still pond, sending ripples of shock and discomfort through the room. The men exchanged uneasy looks, clearly taken aback by her directness.

Fury’s gaze remained steady, though his jaw tightened. “That is... concerning, Your Majesty. Considering the importance of securing the royal line—”

“Considering the importance of the king’s reputation,” Lord Rumlow cut in, his voice low and gruff. “If word gets out that he didn’t—”

“That he didn’t perform his marital duties?” Winnifred finished for him, her voice cold. “Yes, I am aware of the implications, Lord Rumlow.”

The silence that followed was almost suffocating. The men seemed at a loss, unsure how to proceed with such a delicate subject in the presence of a lady—no matter that the lady in question was the Dowager Queen herself.

Lord Pierce cleared his throat again, clearly floundering. “Perhaps, Your Majesty, there are... reasons for the delay. A need for time, perhaps, to... adjust?”

Winnifred’s gaze turned icy. “Time is not a luxury we have, Lord Pierce. Nor is it a cure for whatever holds my son back.”

Fury leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “Your Majesty, with all due respect, if His Majesty is reluctant... might there be another way to ensure that the matter is handled discreetly? Some form of... encouragement?”

“Encouragement?” The Dowager Queen’s voice was deceptively calm, but there was a dangerous glint in her eyes that made the noblemen stiffen.

“What exactly are you suggesting, Prime Minister?”

Fury held her gaze, unfazed. “I’m suggesting that perhaps His Majesty needs to be reminded of his responsibilities. He must be made to understand that this is not merely about him and his bride—it is about the future of Montelune. The stability of the crown.”

Winnifred’s expression did not soften, but she gave a single, sharp nod. “I am well aware of that, Prime Minister. But James—” She paused, catching herself, and then continued more firmly. “The King has always been... stubborn.”

“Then perhaps he needs a push,” Lord Rumlow muttered under his breath.

Winnifred’s gaze snapped to him, and he immediately looked away, his bravado fading under her scrutiny.

“A push?” she echoed icily. “Do you honestly believe pushing the King of Montelune will achieve anything other than further resistance?”

The men fell silent, and Fury’s shoulders tensed, his expression tight with frustration. “What would you have us do, Your Majesty? If the King refuses to—”

“The King does not refuse,” Winnifred interrupted, her voice ringing with authority. “He hesitates. There is a difference.” She paused, drawing herself up to her full height, her gaze cutting across the room like a blade. “But as I told you, this matter has already been addressed. The Queen will handle it.”

There was a collective pause as her words sank in. The Queen? Their glances darted back and forth, disbelief and confusion clear on their faces. It was Lord Pierce who finally voiced what they were all thinking.

“Your Majesty, the Queen is... well, she’s rather—”

“Inexperienced,” Rumlow supplied curtly, a hint of disdain lacing his tone.

“Meek,” Pierce added, though he looked apologetic.

The Dowager Queen’s gaze hardened. “You underestimate her.”

The Prime Minister’s lips pressed into a thin line. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, the Queen is still unproven. This court is filled with those who would tear her down the moment they sense weakness. To place this matter in her hands—”

“Is exactly what needs to be done,” Winnifred interrupted, her voice like steel. “She is not a child. She is a queen. And she must learn to wield her power—now, not later.”

The noblemen exchanged uneasy glances, clearly unconvinced. The silence that followed was thick with skepticism, and it was all too clear that they did not share the Dowager Queen’s confidence in Y/N.

But Winnifred stood her ground, unflinching. “Mark my words, gentlemen,” she said softly, a dangerous edge to her voice. “You may doubt her now, but she will prove you wrong. She will make you see her strength.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Lord Pierce asked quietly.

“She will,” Winnifred replied, the certainty in her voice absolute. “Because I have seen it. I know what she’s capable of.”

Another tense silence fell over the room, the men still wary but unwilling to argue further.

“Very well, Your Majesty,” Fury said at last, his tone resigned but respectful. “We will... defer to your judgment. For now.”

“Good.” Winnifred’s gaze swept over the room once more, as if daring anyone to question her again. “Now, unless there are other matters to attend to, I suggest we all turn our focus back to ensuring the stability and prosperity of Montelune. The rest... will be handled in due time.”

With that, she rose gracefully from her chair, the noblemen following suit. And as she left the room, her back straight and her gaze unflinching, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the Dowager Queen was a force to be reckoned with—one who would see this matter resolved, no matter what it took.

Once the door closed behind her, the men shared a look of relief mixed with lingering anxiety.

Lord Pierce let out a shaky breath. “I don’t envy the queen one bit,” he muttered.

Fury nodded slowly, his gaze still fixed on the door. “No, I don’t imagine many would,” he murmured. “Because if there’s one person who can push her to act, it’s the Dowager Queen herself.”

× × × ×

It had been five long days since you’d last seen Bucky, and the estate that was meant to be your new home felt more like a gilded cage with each passing moment. Every day unfolded like clockwork, precise and unchanging, as if someone had wound up a porcelain doll and set it down to perform its routine.

You would rise from your cold, empty bed, get dressed in yet another resplendent gown chosen by the maids, and eat breakfast alone in the grand dining room. Lunch, the same—only the time of day changed, the vast silence swallowing every bite of food, every clink of porcelain against silver. Dinner was no different, the emptiness of the long table a stark reminder that you were isolated, adrift in a sea of marble and gold with no anchor in sight.

Even your attempts to fill the hours felt hollow. Books, once a source of comfort, blurred into meaningless words on a page. The piano keys beneath your fingers, no matter how delicately or forcefully you played, only echoed through the cavernous halls, sounding less like music and more like a lament. You’d tried wandering the estate, but at every turn, there was a servant or guard with polite words and unyielding eyes.

“You mustn’t go out, Your Grace. It’s for your safety.”

Your safety. The words grated against you like sandpaper, their false concern suffocating. Safety from what? From whom? No one would say. No one ever did. And every day, you could feel your sanity slipping, unraveling thread by thread, as the confines of the estate closed in around you.

And now, standing at one of the grand windows overlooking the manicured gardens, you turned abruptly, spotting Scott lingering nearby as always. The man had become a constant presence, a shadow, his careful attention both protective and irritating. You narrowed your eyes at him, frustration bubbling up like a storm.

“Scott, I want to invite Lady Natasha, Lady Wanda, and Lady Pepper for tea tomorrow morning,” you stated, your tone clipped and firm, already expecting resistance. “Make the arrangements.”

Scott’s expression shifted, a mixture of unease and hesitation. He lowered his gaze briefly before speaking, his voice quiet but unwavering. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Your Majesty.”

Your brow furrowed. “And why not?”

“My Queen… you’re still within the period of your honeymoon.” He chose his words carefully, as if speaking too freely might shatter the fragile peace that lingered between you. “It’s traditional for the queen to remain in seclusion during this time.”

“Traditional?” The word tasted bitter on your tongue, like bile. You let out a derisive laugh, shaking your head incredulously. “What, precisely, is there to seclude myself for? The king is nowhere to be found, and I—” You broke off, swallowing the sharp edge of your anger. “I am not permitted to invite anyone into my own home?”

Scott straightened slightly, his discomfort plain as day. “It’s not a matter of permission, Your Majesty. It’s simply how things are done. You are to stay within the estate until the period of seclusion ends.”

“Customary.” You echoed the word again, as if tasting its bitterness for the first time. You let out a short, sharp laugh that was entirely devoid of humor. “The king can do whatever he pleases while I am expected to sit idly and await his return. Is that what you mean?”

Scott’s mouth opened, but no words came. He simply stared at you, his gaze flicking nervously to the maids who were also watching, wide-eyed and tense.

You took a step closer, your voice softening into a dangerous whisper. “Tell me, Scott—how long is this period of seclusion supposed to last?”

“Until the tenth day after the wedding, Your Highness,” he murmured, lowering his gaze respectfully. “It is meant to provide you time to acclimate to your new role and… to reflect upon the responsibilities that come with it.”

“Reflect,” you repeated bitterly. “All I’ve done is reflect, Scott. Reflect on how little control I have over my own life. Reflect on how I have been shuttled around like a prized possession instead of a human being. Reflect on the fact that I have no voice, no say—no freedom.”

Silence fell over the room, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a dense fog. Scott shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting to the floor.

“Your Majesty,” he said quietly, “these traditions are not meant to confine you, but to protect you. To ensure your position as queen is established and—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, your tone ice-cold. “If you’re going to say one more thing about traditions or customs or protection, I would rather you not speak at all.”

Scott’s mouth snapped shut, and he gave a small, stiff nod. “As you wish, my queen.”

“Good,” you murmured, turning back to the window, your gaze hard and unyielding. “Leave me.”

You didn’t look back as Scott and the maids slowly withdrew from the room, the door closing softly behind them. The silence that followed was almost suffocating, and you stood there, staring out at the gardens that were just as closed off to you as the rest of the world.

No freedom. No voice. No choices.

× × × ×

Later in the evening, as you sat restlessly by the fireplace, staring at the flames that offered no warmth, the door to the drawing room opened, and Captain Steve Rogers stepped inside. His tall frame seemed to fill the space, and for a moment, you allowed yourself a flicker of hope. Perhaps he’d brought news, or perhaps—just perhaps—he’d come to take you away from this unending monotony.

“My Queen,” he greeted formally, bowing his head slightly.

“Captain,” you acknowledged, trying to keep the edge of desperation from your voice. “It’s good to see a familiar face.”

He offered a small, sympathetic smile as he approached. “I apologize for not visiting sooner, Your Majesty. Things have been... busy.”

Busy. The word sent a fresh wave of bitterness through you. Busy for everyone but you, it seemed. You forced a smile, gesturing for him to sit. “No need to apologize, Captain. But tell me—where is the King? I haven’t heard from him since I arrived.”

Steve’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, his gaze flickering toward the floor before meeting yours again. “He’s still in Annecy, My Queen.”

“I see.” you said softly, the name foreign on your tongue. “How exactly is Annecy?”

“It’s about a quarter of a day’s ride south, through the forest and along the main road,” Steve explained, his voice careful, measured. “It’s a secluded place, one he visits often when he needs to... reflect.”

The way he spoke made something inside you snap, your control fraying at the edges. 

“Reflect,” you murmured, the word a bitter taste in your mouth. All this time, he had been in Annecy, brooding and reflecting, while you languished here, alone and forgotten. The distance between you felt more like an abyss.

“How would one get there, exactly?” you asked, feigning nonchalance. “Just in case I wanted to... send a letter, perhaps?”

Steve’s brows furrowed slightly, suspicion flickering in his blue eyes. “It’s not safe for you to travel alone, my queen. The roads can be treacherous.”

“I’m not asking for permission to travel, Captain. Merely inquiring out of curiosity,” you replied, your tone light but your heart pounding in your chest. “If I were to send a messenger, I would need to know the way.”

He hesitated, but then sighed, relenting. “It’s a straight path through the eastern gates of the estate, then along the main road until you reach the first fork. You’d take the left path, following it through the forest until you cross the river at the stone bridge. From there, it’s just another few hours until you reach the edge of Annecy.”

You nodded thoughtfully, your gaze dropping to the floor, committing his words to memory. “Thank you, Captain. That’s... very helpful.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched you. “My Queen, if you’re considering—”

“I’m not considering anything,” you interrupted smoothly, your lips curving into a placating smile. “I’m merely... curious.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded nonetheless. “Very well. If you have any other questions—”

“Actually,” you cut in, your voice suddenly brighter, almost too casual, “I was wondering if I might step outside for a moment. The fresh air might do me good.”

“My Queen, it’s already quite late,” Steve said carefully, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. “Perhaps it would be best to wait until morning.”

A flicker of frustration flared within you, but you forced yourself to remain calm, nodding graciously. “Of course. . .of course. You’re right, Captain.”

Steve’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but his gaze remained watchful as he bowed his head. “Goodnight, Your Majesty.”

You offered him a demure smile, waiting until he turned to leave before your expression hardened, determination flaring to life in your chest. You watched him leave, each step of his boots echoing down the hall, the sound growing fainter until you were sure he was gone.

And then, moving swiftly, you slipped into your chambers and changed into a riding outfit, the dark fabric molding to your form like a second skin. Your heart pounded in your ears as you quietly made your way through the estate, avoiding the servants and guards as you made your way to the stables.

It was time to take matters into your own hands.

The stables were dimly lit, the smell of hay and leather filling the air. You slipped inside, your footsteps quiet as you glanced around—and then you saw it: Steve’s horse, a powerful white spotted stallion, already saddled and prepared for his return journey. He must have left it ready to go, just in case he needed to leave in haste.

A thrill shot through you as you crept closer, your fingers trembling with both fear and excitement. This was your chance. You stroked the stallion’s neck gently, murmuring soft words of reassurance before swinging up into the saddle. Steve’s horse shifted beneath you, but you steadied him, your resolve hardening.

You turned the stallion toward the eastern gate, your heart hammering with a mix of exhilaration and dread. The estate was still and silent as you urged the horse forward, guiding him through the gates and onto the open road.

Just as you reached the edge of the estate grounds, you heard a shout—Captain Rogers, his voice laced with both alarm and disbelief. 

“Your Majesty! What are you doing?”

But before he could reach you, you dug your heels into the stallion’s sides, sending him into a gallop. The wind whipped past your face, the thrill of freedom and fear mingling as you urged him faster, faster—

“Damn it!” Steve’s curse echoed behind you, and you risked a glance over your shoulder to see him sprinting to the stables.

Within moments, he’d mounted another horse, spurring it forward with a sharp command. “Your Majesty, stop! You can’t just—”

But his words were lost to the wind as you rode, your stallion’s hooves pounding against the dirt road. For the first time in days, you felt alive, the adrenaline coursing through you like fire.

Steve was gaining on you, his horse closing the distance quickly. You could hear him shouting your name, the words muddled and frantic, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

Not until you reached Annecy.

Not until you reached him.

× × × ×

The night was alive with the sound of hoofbeats thundering down the narrow, moonlit road. The crisp air bit at your cheeks as you leaned low over the stallion’s neck, the wind whipping past your ears in a deafening roar. The exhilaration coursing through you was intoxicating—a reckless thrill that washed away the numbness of the past days.

You were free, if only for a fleeting moment.

But behind you, not far off, you heard the determined pursuit of another horse—a powerful, steady rhythm that only a seasoned rider could command.

“Your Majesty!” Steve’s voice rang out over the pounding of hooves, a mix of frustration and exasperation lacing his words. “Stop, damn it! You’ll get yourself hurt!”

You clenched your jaw, pushing the stallion faster, your heart racing with equal parts fear and defiance. Let him chase me, you thought stubbornly. You weren’t turning back now. Not when you were this close to escaping.

The darkened forest loomed ahead, the path winding and treacherous beneath the canopy of towering trees. Shadows stretched and twisted, the moonlight barely penetrating the thick branches. But you didn’t falter. You knew how to handle a horse, knew how to navigate even the trickiest of trails. You just had to stay ahead.

A glance over your shoulder revealed Steve, his broad form hunched low over his mount, his expression tight with concentration. His horse was closing the distance, its powerful strides gaining on you inch by inch. A thrill of panic shot through you, and you urged your stallion forward, digging your heels in as you veered off the main road and plunged into the woods.

Branches clawed at your sleeves and hair, the underbrush thick and uneven beneath the horse’s hooves. But you pressed on, darting through the narrow gaps between the trees, your breath qyickening. You could hear Steve’s curses behind you, the snapping of twigs and the rustle of leaves marking his relentless pursuit.

“Your Majesty, this is madness!” he shouted, his voice closer now. “Stop now, before you hurt yourself!”

“Go back, Captain!” you called over your shoulder, the thrill of the chase making your blood sing. “I’m not turning around!”

“Damn it, woman!” Steve growled, unable to hide his frustration with you. “You’re going to regret this!”

The path ahead narrowed even further, the trees pressing in on all sides. Your horse stumbled slightly, its hooves slipping on the loose soil, but you quickly regained control, urging it onward. You could feel Steve’s presence like a shadow at your back, his horse matching yours stride for stride, the sound of their breathing harsh and heavy in the cool night air.

And then, with a burst of speed, Steve’s horse surged forward, drawing up beside yours. You stole a glance at him, your eyes meeting his briefly in the dim light. His gaze was fierce, determined—and utterly unyielding.

“Pull up, My Queen,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. “Now.”

You shook your head, setting your jaw stubbornly. “No. Not until I see him.”

Steve cursed under his breath, his hand darting out to grasp at your reins. “I’m not letting you—”

You yanked the reins sharply, steering the stallion to the right and away from his grasp. The horse whinnied in protest, but you held firm, pushing it onward. Steve swerved to avoid colliding with you, his horse skidding on the loose gravel before regaining its balance.

“Damn it!” he shouted again, his voice raw with a mix of anger and concern. “This isn’t a game!”

“No, it’s not!” you shot back, your voice rising with the intensity of the chase. “It’s my life, Steve!”

Something flickered in his eyes—something that looked almost like pity—but he didn’t relent. He tightened his grip on the reins and urged his horse forward, drawing up alongside you once more.

“I’m not letting you go,” he ground out, his jaw clenched. “Even if I have to drag you back myself.”

“Try it,” you dared, the words slipping out before you could think better of it. “Just try.”

His eyes flashed, and for a moment, you thought he might actually do it—might tackle you right off your horse and force you back. But instead, he gritted his teeth, his knuckles white where they gripped the reins.

“Fine,” he bit out. “You want to do this the hard way? We’ll do it the hard way.”

And with that, he urged his horse even closer, the two animals almost neck and neck now. He reached out again, his hand brushing against your arm, and you tensed, your heart hammering wildly.

But instead of pulling you back, he yanked sharply on the reins of your stallion, forcing the horse to slow and swerve, breaking your pace. You let out a cry of protest, your grip tightening on the reins as you fought to keep control. Steve’s horse blocked your path, cutting off any chance of escape.

“Let me go!” you shouted, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and desperation.

“Not happening,” Steve growled, his eyes blazing as he leaned in closer. “You think I’m going to let you ride off into the night alone, to God knows where, just because you’re stubborn?”

“You don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly,” he interrupted, his tone harsh. “I understand that you’re hurting. That you feel trapped. But this—” he gestured to the dark woods around you, his voice rising with exasperation—“this isn’t the way to fix it.”

You glared at him, your breath coming in short, furious gasps. “And what would you know about it, Captain?”

“Enough to know that if you keep pushing like this, you’re going to get yourself hurt,” he shot back, his voice cracking slightly. “And then what? Do you think that’s what he’d want? For you to risk everything like this?”

You stared at him, your chest heaving, and for a moment, the fight drained out of you, leaving you hollow and aching. He was right. You knew he was right. But the thought of going back—of returning to that empty, suffocating house—was unbearable.

“I just... I need to see him, Steve,” you replied, your voice breaking on the words. “I need to understand.”

His expression softened, his grip on the reins loosening slightly. “I know,” he murmured. “But not like this. Not alone.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy with unspoken words. And then, slowly, hesitantly, you nodded, the fire inside you dimming to a flicker.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

Steve released a breath he seemed to have been holding, his shoulders relaxing. “Good,” he said quietly, his voice rough with relief. “Let’s head back.”

But as he turned his horse, you saw your opportunity—a split-second chance—and before he could react, you kicked Steve’s horse into a gallop, the sudden burst of speed propelling you forward, back onto the path.

“Princess—Queen—Y/N!” Steve roared, the sound of his curses following you as you tore through the woods, the wind whipping past you.

This time, you didn’t look back. You couldn’t afford to. You had to reach Bucky. You had to know why he’d left you there—alone and abandoned.

Steve’s shouts echoed through the night as he raced after you, his horse’s hooves pounding against the ground like thunder.

“Stop, damn it!” he bellowed, his voice raw and desperate.

“Enough!” you shouted back, your voice cracking with the force of it. “Stop telling me what I should and shouldn’t do!”

Steve’s horse pulled up beside yours again, his face tight with worry and anger. “This isn’t safe, Y/N!”

“Don’t you dare!” you snapped, your eyes blazing as you looked at him. “Don’t you dare tell me what’s safe. You can’t keep me locked up like a caged bird just because it’s easier for you to watch over me!”

Steve’s mouth opened as if to argue, but you cut him off, your voice trembling with fury. “I’m not turning back, Steve. Not this time. So either let me go... or help me.”

He stared at you, the conflict clear in his eyes. For a moment, it seemed like he might refuse, might force you to return despite everything.

But then he let out a harsh breath, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Damn it, Y/N... fine.”

“What?” you breathed, barely daring to believe it.

“If you’re going to do this, then I’m coming with you,” he ground out, his jaw clenched. “Because I’m not letting you ride off into the night alone.”

You swallowed hard, the fight draining out of you as his words sank in. Slowly, you nodded, a shaky breath escaping your lips.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the horses’ hooves.

Steve’s gaze softened, and he gave a terse nod. “Just... try not to get us both killed, all right?”

A faint, breathless laugh escaped you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a small flicker of hope.

With one last glance at each other, you turned your horses toward the open road, the path to Annecy stretching out before you.

× × × × 

The cold night air nipped at your cheeks as you and Steve rode side by side, the rhythmic gallop of the horses’ hooves creating a steady, almost soothing cadence in the darkness. The road ahead was long, the path winding through the forest illuminated only by the pale light of the moon, casting everything in a muted, silvery glow.

Despite the tension simmering between you, there was something almost... peaceful about it. The silence that stretched between you and the captain wasn’t oppressive like before.

Steve’s gaze slid sideways, lingering on your determined profile. He wasn’t sure what he expected when he’d first seen you at the palace, but it certainly wasn’t this. A princess—no, a queen—in every sense of the word, but also something else entirely. Impulsive, stubborn, unrelenting in your resolve to push forward no matter what stood in your way. Every action you took seemed to defy the expectations of your station.

And yet, here you were, riding through the wilderness in the dead of night, your chin lifted high as if daring the stars themselves to challenge your resolve.

The corner of his mouth twitched in grudging admiration. “You ride well,” he offered, breaking the silence.

You turned to him, arching a brow. “Are you surprised?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Maybe a little. I didn’t expect a queen to handle a horse like that.”

Your lips curved into a small, almost wry smile. “My father made sure I knew how to ride from a young age. I learned when I was six.”

Steve blinked, his gaze sharpening with curiosity. “Six? That’s... early.”

You shrugged, your expression turning thoughtful. “I suppose it is. But in my country, it wasn’t unusual. There was a lot to navigate, and horses were a necessity for both travel and safety.”

Something in your tone—a flicker of something distant, a shadow—caught his attention, and he studied you with newfound appreciation. He’d thought you reckless before—impulsive, driven by raw emotion. But perhaps he’d underestimated you. There was more to you than he’d thought, more beneath that composed surface you kept so carefully guarded.

“You’re more capable than most people give you credit for,” he murmured, his voice almost contemplative.

You glanced at him, your gaze sharp and discerning. “They don’t see what they don’t want to see, Captain. I can read, too, you know.” A dry chuckle escaped you. “I can speak three languages, play music, excel in archery. I know more about strategy and history than some of the advisors who sit in the council chamber.”

Steve’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he quickly schooled his features, nodding slowly. “That’s impressive.”

“Is it?” you asked softly, a hint of bitterness creeping into your tone. “It’s not impressive if no one cares to know.” You shook your head, letting out a sigh. “No one’s ever bothered to ask. Not even James.”

His chest tightened at the way you said it, the quiet hurt that laced your words. He looked down at the reins in his hands, feeling a pang of guilt. You were right. No one had asked. Steve certainly hadn’t. He’d only ever seen you through the lens of a title, a role. He hadn’t seen you—not until now.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, the words sounding inadequate even to his own ears. “I should have... I didn’t realize—”

“It’s not your fault, Captain,” you interrupted gently, your voice carrying a tired acceptance. “I’ve had to learn to hide things. If I didn’t, I’d be seen as a threat—or worse, a failure. Women aren’t supposed to read, to know things beyond sewing and dancing.” Your lips twisted wryly. “But I never liked being told what I could and couldn’t do.”

Steve couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “I can see that.”

You rolled your eyes, though the gesture was light. “I’m serious, Captain. No one sees me for who I am, only for what they want me to be. And if they did see the real me... I wonder if they’d be disappointed.”

The raw honesty in your voice cut through him like a blade, and he swallowed, a knot forming in his throat. He couldn’t imagine anyone being disappointed by the fierce, unyielding woman riding beside him. If anything, he was completely, utterly astounded by you. Your strength, your determination—it was unlike anything he’d ever encountered.

And yet, you spoke as if it were something to be ashamed of.

“I doubt that very much,” he said quietly, his gaze steady and sincere. “If they could see what I see, they’d realize just how wrong they’ve been.”

You blinked, surprise flashing in your eyes before you looked away, your lips pressing together. “Thank you,” you murmured, the words barely audible over the sound of the horses’ hooves.

He nodded, his chest tightening again. “You deserve to be seen, My Queen. All of you.”

Silence fell between you again, but this time it was different—softer, gentler. The tension that had wound itself around you began to ease, loosening its grip ever so slightly. You stared ahead, your mind still spinning, but something in his words soothed the ache inside you, if only for a moment.

“Just... try not to run off on me again, all right?” Steve added after a moment, his tone lightening. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up at his exasperation. “No promises, Captain.”

He shook his head, a reluctant smile on his lips. “Of course not. You’d never make it that easy for me, would you?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you teased, and for the first time since you’d left the estate, the tension in your chest began to loosen, the weight of it lifting just a little.

Steve glanced at you, his gaze warm and admiring. “You really are something else, my Queen.” He paused, his expression turning thoughtful as he murmured, “Bucky has met his match, it seems.”

Your smile softened, a faint flush rising to your cheeks. “And you, Captain Rogers, are far too kind.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I’m just speaking the truth.”

× × × ×

The flickering glow of torches cast the estate’s front steps in a soft, golden hue, and a figure stepped forward from the shadows. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his eyes, narrowed and assessing, were locked on you as if you were an intruder. The guards flanking the entrance straightened, their hands subtly tightening on the hilts of their swords.

“Who are you?” the man asked, his voice carrying an edge of command.

You instinctively straightened in your saddle, your gaze meeting his. “I am the queen.”

His brows rose ever so slightly, a flicker of something—surprise, perhaps—passing through his expression. But he didn’t step aside. Instead, he squared his shoulders and planted himself more firmly in your path, his jaw set.

“And why is Her Majesty arriving at such an hour without an escort?” His tone was polite, but there was an undercurrent of steel that made your pulse quicken.

Before you could respond, Steve cleared his throat, guiding his horse a step forward, his gaze fixed on the man with an unflinching intensity. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Sam.”

Sam glanced at Steve, recognition sparking in his eyes, but he didn’t move. “Captain Rogers,” he said evenly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Didn’t expect to see you standing in the way of the queen,” Steve shot back, his tone calm but firm. “I suggest you step aside.”

The man—Sam—hesitated, his gaze sliding back to you, lingering with a mixture of wariness and something else... respect? Curiosity? You couldn’t quite tell.

“Your Majesty,” Sam said slowly, his voice measured, “I’m under strict orders to keep the estate secure.”

You squared your shoulders, lifting your chin as you met his gaze head-on. “I have come to see my husband. I am certain his orders do not extend to preventing me from entering.”

Sam’s lips twitched, as if he were fighting back a smile. For a heartbeat, you thought he might refuse again. But then he stepped aside with a graceful nod, sweeping his arm toward the entrance.

“Welcome, Your Majesty. Forgive me for the delay.” His eyes shifted to Steve, a knowing look passing between them before he turned back to you. “Shall I announce your arrival?”

You hesitated, glancing at Steve, who merely shook his head. “No,” you said softly, feeling a strange surge of determination. “I’ll find him myself.”

With a nod, Sam stepped back, gesturing for the guards to lower their weapons. As you dismounted, handing the reins to a stable boy who had appeared from the shadows, you felt Steve’s steady presence beside you—a silent pillar of support.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he murmured under his breath, his voice barely audible over the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

You nodded, squaring your shoulders. “I didn’t ride all this way to be turned back now, Captain.”

He gave you a small, tight smile, his eyes flicking briefly to Sam before returning to you. “Then let’s go find him.”

The grand entrance of the estate opened before you like the maw of some great beast, its stone walls and towering pillars casting deep, ominous shadows. As you stepped inside, the air seemed to change—thicker, almost suffocating, like a place that held too many secrets. The floors gleamed under the flickering light of candles set in wall sconces, the polished surfaces reflecting the nervous tension tightening in your chest.

Steve followed closely behind, his hand hovering near his sword, his gaze scanning the dimly lit corridors with the sharp, alert intensity of a soldier on high alert.

“He’s this way,” he murmured, gesturing with a tilt of his head.

You nodded, your heart pounding louder with each step. The estate was grander than you had expected, the hallways long and winding. For a moment, you felt disoriented, as if you’d stumbled into a labyrinth. But you forced yourself to focus. You were here for a reason—to speak to James. To confront him, to demand answers.

After what felt like an eternity, you reached a heavy wooden door, slightly ajar, warm light spilling through the crack. Steve slowed, his hand coming up as if to stop you, but you shook your head. You needed to do this alone.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open gently, stepping inside.

The heavy door creaked shut behind you as you stepped fully into the observatory. Your gaze swept over the large telescope set up at the far end, its towering structure silhouetted against the backdrop of the star-strewn sky. 

You saw him—standing beside it, a shadowed figure against the soft glow of the evening, the faint town lights far below barely piercing the darkness up here. His fingers traced the metal frame of the instrument, the careful precision of his movements almost reverent. It was unexpected—seeing him like this. Vulnerable, focused, his usual air of authority and distance replaced by something quieter, more human.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice clipped and cold. The question sounded more like an accusation, his grip tightening on the edge of the telescope.

“I think you know why,” you replied, your words as sharp as the air between you. “You can’t just keep sending me away like I’m some piece of unwanted baggage.”

He exhaled harshly, his shoulders shifting, but he still didn’t turn to face you. “You’re supposed to be at the estate. This is not—”

“Not what?” you cut in, your own frustration spilling over. “Not where I’m supposed to be? I’m your wife, James. Is it not my right to stand beside you, wherever you may be?”

Finally, he turned, his jaw set, eyes hardened as he stared at you across the room. “You’re making everything more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Complicated?” The word tasted bitter, and you threw it back at him like a weapon. “Complicated is this entire charade of a marriage you’ve thrown me into. You can’t even be in the same room as me, can’t look at me without acting like I’m some burden you’re forced to carry.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze never wavering. “You knew what was expected from the very beginning. I never misled you.”

“Never?” you shot back, stepping closer, heat rising beneath your skin. “What about everything you said that morning in the garden? You made me believe—” You stopped yourself, anger tightening in your throat. “You led me to believe there was more. You looked me in the eye and made promises without saying a word.”

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head sharply. “You’re twisting things, Y/N.”

“Am I?” Your voice rose, matching his, the words bursting out like they’d been waiting for this fight. “You led me on, made me think there could be something real between us. Did you really mean it? All those sweet words? Or am I just another woman you can disregard?”

His expression didn’t soften, didn’t waver. He took a step forward, eyes burning into yours. “You’re not just another woman. You’re my wife. And that’s exactly why I’m telling you to go back where it’s safe.”

You laughed, a cold, hollow sound that felt like it echoed through the observatory. “Safe. You keep saying that. But you know what’s unsafe, James? Being married to someone who treats me like a ghost. Like I’m here but not really here. Like I’m nothing more than a title to you.”

“You don’t understand,” he snapped, his voice dangerously low. “You think this is about you? It’s not. It’s about—”

“Don’t you dare tell me what this is about!” you interrupted, your anger roaring back to life. “You’ve been pushing me away since the day we married. You send me to that estate like I’m some delicate flower who can’t handle the truth. You won’t even give me the courtesy of honesty.”

“I am being honest,” he growled, his voice vibrating with suppressed rage. “You just refuse to accept it.”

“Then tell me why you shut me out!” you demanded, taking another step closer, refusing to back down. “Tell me why you can’t even bear to look at me!”

“Because it’s easier that way!” he exploded, the words crashing between you like a thunderclap. “Because every moment I spend with you, every look, every touch—it makes it harder to keep my distance. And I need that distance, Y/N. I need it.”

“Why?” The single word felt like a challenge, a dare, as you stood your ground. “Why do you need to keep your distance?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wild with something you couldn’t quite decipher. “Because if I don’t, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” you pressed, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “You’ll feel something? You’ll actually let yourself care?”

“Damn it, stop twisting my words!” he snapped, his voice echoing off the walls. He pointed toward the door, his hand trembling slightly. “This conversation is over. Go home.”

But you didn’t move. Instead, you square your shoulders, staring him down with a determination that only seemed to make his fury burn hotter. “You’re just a coward, James.”

“What did you say?” His eyes darkened, the heat in his gaze scorching.

“I said you’re a coward,” you repeated, your voice unyielding. “It’s not about protecting me, is it? It’s about protecting yourself. You can’t handle feeling anything real, so you shove me away and pretend it’s for my sake—”

“Enough!” he roared, slamming his fist down on a workbench. The sound reverberated through the room, you flinched, but didn’t back away. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his voice a raw growl when he spoke again. “I’m commanding you to go home, Y/N. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“And what if I don’t?” you shot back, your heart hammering in your chest. “What if I stay here and make you face me?”

He took a step forward, the distance between you closing until he was towering over you.

“You want me to be honest? Fine. I’m being honest now.” He leaned in, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Go. Home. Because if you stay, I can’t promise I won’t hurt you.”

The threat hung in the air, his gaze blazing with a warning you knew he meant. But even then, you didn’t move. You held his stare, refusing to look away, refusing to give in.

But then something shifted in his eyes—something dark and final.

“Leave,” he bit out, each word a sharp command. “Go back to the estate. This is not up for debate.”

“James—”

“Go.” His voice cut through the room like a blade, and for the first time, you felt the full force of his resolve, the cold, impenetrable wall he had built around himself.

Slowly, you stepped back, your eyes still locked on his, the ache in your chest spreading like a poison.

“You really think you’re protecting me?” Your voice wavered, the frustration and pain that had been building over the past five days bubbling to the surface, spilling out like a torrent you could no longer contain. “But all you’re doing is pushing me away. You think that sending me back to that estate, is what’s best for me? Locking me up like some prisoner while you hide away here?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his expression an unreadable mask of ice.

“Every morning I wake up in that empty bed, wondering if today will be the day you finally show up. If maybe, for once, you’ll decide that I’m worth more than a few fleeting words, worth more than some shadow you keep at arm’s length.” Your voice shook, but you pressed on, refusing to let the lump in your throat silence you. 

“I eat alone. I read alone. I play music for walls that don’t listen. I’m trapped in that place, surrounded by people who refuse to let me leave, because you’ve ordered it. ‘For my safety,’” you scoffed, the bitterness heavy in your tone. “But safety from what, James? From whom?”

He flinched, just barely, but you caught it. You saw the way his fingers twitched at his sides, the way his gaze flickered with something—regret, maybe—before he buried it beneath that cold, stony facade.

“Your silence is worse than anything else. Worse than the gossip, the rumors,” you continued, each word sharp, slicing through the air. “I didn’t marry a title, James. I married you—or at least, I thought I did. But the man I met in the garden… the man who promised me something more… that’s not who I see now.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze unyielding, his stance unrelenting.

“Fine. If you want to let this crumble to dust, then fine. But don’t you dare think that you’re doing it for me,” you spat, turning on your heel and heading for the door. “You want me to leave? I’ll leave.”

With that, you stormed out, slamming the door behind you, the echo of it reverberating through the silence he left behind.

And in that silence, Bucky stood alone, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes fixed on the door you’d just walked through, the words he didn’t say choking him from the inside out.

× × × × 

You stormed down the spiral staircase until you arrived at the hallway, each step punctuated by the echo of your boots against the stone floor. You barely registered the curious glances of the servants or the soft rustling of skirts as maids darted out of your path. Everything was a blur of color and sound, your heart pounding in your ears like a war drum.

You reached the grand foyer, your breath coming in ragged, furious gasps. You hadn’t meant to let him get to you—hadn’t meant to let his coldness, his indifference, chip away at the fragile hope you’d nurtured.

But he had.

And now the hope was gone, replaced by a searing anger that burned hot and unforgiving in your chest.

“My Queen!” Steve’s voice called out urgently somewhere behind you. You didn’t stop, didn’t even glance back. “What happened? Did he—”

“I do not wish to talk about it, Steve,” you snapped, not breaking stride as you pushed through the front entrance. The cold night air hit you like a slap, the sharpness of it biting into your skin, but it was a welcome relief—anything to douse the fire raging inside you.

“Y/N, wait—”

But you ignored him, striding toward the stables where your horse was already saddled and waiting. A stable boy jumped at your sudden arrival, his eyes wide with uncertainty as you approached.

“Bring my things. I’m leaving,” you ordered, your voice taut with barely contained fury.

“But—Your Majesty—” the boy stammered, glancing nervously between you and Steve, who had followed you out.

“Do as she says,” Steve murmured, his tone resigned, though there was a hard edge to his gaze as he watched you mount the horse.

“Y/N—” Steve tried again, his hand lifting as if he might reach for you, stop you. But you jerked the reins sharply, cutting him off.

“Are you coming?”

He fell silent, his shoulders slumping slightly as he watched you, the conflict clear in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something else, wanted to protest—but then his gaze flicked back toward the darkened silhouette of the estate, and he let out a low, frustrated sigh.

“Yes,” he muttered, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. “I’ll escort you back to Byron—but allow me to have a word with the King.”

“Do whatever you want,” you bit out, the bitterness in your tone making his jaw clench. 

Steve approaches your horse, looking up at you with a hardened look, “Do not leave without me.”

“I won’t.”

× × × × 

Bucky stood in the center of the room, the soft, amber glow of candlelight casting deep shadows across his features. His breathing was labored, each inhale and exhale scraping through his lungs like broken glass. He stared at the closed door, his hand still clenched around the edge of the workbench, his knuckle white with the force of his grip.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, his voice a harsh, broken sound in the empty room.

The door creaked open suddenly, and Bucky’s gaze snapped up, his eyes blazing with a dangerous mix of anger and fear.

Steve stepped inside, his expression tight, his shoulders squared. For a moment, the two men simply stared at each other, the air crackling with unspoken tension.

“What the hell was that?” Steve demanded, his voice low and fierce, like the growl of an animal poised to attack. He took a step forward, his gaze never leaving Bucky’s. “What the hell did you say to her?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he turned away, his shoulders stiff. “That is no concern of yours.”

“Like hell it’s not,” Steve shot back, his voice rising with barely contained fury. He took another step forward, his eyes blazing. “She came here for you. She rode all the way from Byron—alone, at night—just to see you. And you turn her away like she’s nothing?”

“Watch it, Rogers,” Bucky warned, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “This is between me and her.”

“Bullshit,” Steve spat, his fists clenching at his sides. “She is my queen. You may be her husband, but you are not acting as such. You are simply pushing her away—”

“Watch how you speak to me, Captain,” Bucky warned further, his voice low and simmering with barely controlled rage. He turned back to face Steve, his eyes flashing with a dangerous, unyielding intensity. “I am your King before I am your friend. Don't you ever forget that.”

But then Steve’s expression hardened, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he took a deliberate step closer, refusing to be cowed.

“You may be my King,” Steve ground out, his voice tight and edged with anger. “But that does not mean I will stand by and watch you destroy yourself. I know why you’re doing this. And it’s tearing her apart.”

“I’m doing what I have to,” Bucky interrupted sharply. He stepped forward, his hard gaze latching onto Steve’s. “Do not presume to know what is best for her, Steve.”

“And you do?” Steve challenged, his voice dripping with contempt. “Because from where I stand, it seems you are doing everything in your power to hurt her.”

Bucky’s expression twisted, a dark, bitter smile tugging at his lips. “You think I wish to cause her pain?”

“I think you’re terrified,” Steve replied quietly, his voice calm and unflinching. “You’re scared of what you feel for her, afraid of getting close—because losing her would destroy you. But this… pushing her away, pretending you don’t care… that’s just cowardice.”

Bucky’s eyes flared, his hand darting out to grab the front of Steve’s coat, yanking him forward until their faces were inches apart. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then explain it to me,” Steve demanded, his voice low and unrelenting. “You are sabotaging yourself and tearing her down in the process—I am done watching you destroy the one good thing you possess.”

For a moment, they stood there, locked in a silent, seething battle of wills. Then, slowly, Bucky released his grip on Steve’s coat, his shoulders slumping as if the fight had drained out of him.

“You should leave, Steve,” Bucky muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion and defeat. He turned away, his gaze falling to the floor. “Go take her back to Byron. Make sure she’s safe.”

“Bucky—”

“Just go,” Bucky bit out, his voice rough and ragged. He didn’t look back, didn’t give Steve a chance to argue.

Steve’s gaze lingered on him for a long, tense moment, a dozen words hovering on the tip of his tongue. But then he turned sharply on his heel, his boots echoing through the silent observatory as he left, the door slamming shut behind him.

And then, slowly, he sank down onto the nearest chair, his head dropping into his hands, his shoulders shaking with the force of emotions he couldn’t quite suppress.

But no tears fell. He’d learned long ago how to bury them deep, how to lock them away where they couldn’t hurt him—or anyone else.

Because this was the price of keeping you safe. The price of keeping his distance.

Even if it destroyed him in the process.

× × × × 

The maids moved quietly, arranging fresh flowers and setting a delicate porcelain tea set on a polished table. Queen Winifred sat gracefully in her high-backed chair, sipping her morning tea, her posture as rigid and refined as ever.

She barely looked up as her lady-in-waiting, Lady Harriet, approached hesitantly. There was a slight shift in the atmosphere—something unspoken crackling between them. Harriet glanced around, making sure no one else was within earshot, before leaning in closer.

“Your Majesty, I thought you should be informed… the Queen…” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “Last night, she left the estate. Captain Rogers accompanied her.”

The Queen Dowager’s hand stilled, the delicate teacup hovering just inches from her lips. “She did what?” she asked, her voice even but laced with incredulity.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Lady Harriet continued, her voice dropping lower as if speaking the words any louder would make them more scandalous. “She rode all the way to the King’s estate in Annecy. It caused quite a stir among the staff, even with Captain Rogers by her side.”

For a moment, a thick silence settled in the room. The Queen Dowager’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though considering the implications of such an audacious act. But then… something unexpected happened.

The corner of her lips twitched.

Lady Harriet blinked, surprised, as a soft chuckle slipped past the Queen Dowager’s lips—a sound so rare, it seemed to startle even her own maids. Winifred set the teacup down gently, a wry smile spreading across her face as she tilted her head in quiet amusement.

“She rode to Annecy,” she repeated, a hint of disbelief mingling with a spark of admiration in her eyes. “With Captain Rogers…” She shook her head slightly, as if she could scarcely believe it herself. “That girl…”

Her chuckle grew a little louder, a quiet, knowing sound. Lady Harriet exchanged a glance with one of the other maids, clearly perplexed by the Queen Dowager’s reaction. This wasn’t the disapproving reprimand they’d expected.

The Queen Dowager leaned back in her chair, her gaze turning distant as she stared out the window. 

“So, she did listen after all…” she murmured to herself, almost as if speaking the thought aloud would make it more real.

Lady Harriet hesitated, unsure whether to continue or to remain silent. “Your Majesty?”

The Queen Dowager waved a hand dismissively, still smiling to herself. “It’s nothing, Harriet.” 

She took another sip of her tea, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “The Queen may have more steel in her spine than I initially thought.”

“Should we… take any action regarding her behavior, Your Majesty?” Harriet asked tentatively, still clearly baffled.

Winifred’s smile widened, a gleam of something almost like pride flashing in her eyes. “No, Harriet. Leave her be.”

She glanced down at her teacup, swirling the liquid gently. “Let her make her bold moves. Let her surprise them all.” She lifted her gaze, the hint of a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. “It’s about time someone shook things up around here.”

Lady Harriet shifted, still looking uncertain. “But Your Majesty, if Captain Rogers was with her, it might imply—”

“Captain Rogers may be a steadfast soldier, but he does not dictate the queen’s actions. She made her choice.” Winnifred paused, her smile deepening. “And if I’m not mistaken, that girl has enough fire to make any man, king or captain, follow her lead.”

And with that, she returned to her tea as if nothing had happened, the faintest smile lingering on her lips—a smile that spoke of a plan unfolding, of something more significant simmering beneath the surface.

Yes, the queen was proving to be quite a force, indeed.

× × × ×

You sit perched on a thick branch of the grand oak tree, high above the garden path. The cool breeze plays with the hem of your skirts and rustles the leaves around you. A delicate porcelain teacup is balanced carefully on a knot beside you, the matching saucer nestled securely on a branch above, where a glimmer of sunlight catches the floral patterns. 

Below, the world feels distant—removed. From this height, you can watch the maids flit about like little insects, pretending to ignore you while stealing glances up at your odd choice of seating.

Your book lies open in your lap, but you haven’t turned a page in a while. The words blur together as your gaze drifts away from the text, caught instead by the blue expanse of sky peeking through the foliage, your thoughts miles away.

It has been two days since you rode to Annecy in the dead of night. Two days since you confronted your husband, demanding answers he seemed unwilling—or unable—to give. And now, silence. Not a single word from him. Not even a letter. The ache of that silence lingers in your chest, tightening every time you think of him.

With a sigh, you look back at the pages, willing yourself to focus. But even now, the ache of anticipation tugs at you. A soft crunch of boots against gravel draws your attention. From your elevated position, you glance down and find Captain Rogers standing beneath the oak, his brow furrowed in a curious frown as he peers up at you.

“Your Majesty?” His voice carries a note of genuine confusion and surprise. “How did you get up there?”

You blink, taken aback, before a smile tugs at your lips. “I climbed, Captain Rogers.”

His eyes widen slightly, and then he glances at the tree trunk, scanning the branches as if trying to piece together the puzzle of how a queen—of all people—managed to scale a tree like a child escaping her governess.

“Climbed,” he repeats, disbelief tinged with admiration. “And no one stopped you?”

“No one saw me until I was already here,” you reply, a faint note of mischief coloring your tone. “And by then, what could they do? Order their queen to come down?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a reluctant smile as he steps closer, his gaze still on you. “Well, I can’t say I expected to find you up a tree, but… may I join you?”

You raise an eyebrow, looking down at him as he places one hand on the trunk, testing his grip. “Do you think you can get up here, Captain?”

“Only one way to find out,” he murmurs.

You watch, surprised and a little amused, as he hoists himself up, his powerful arms making easy work of the climb. He’s not quite as graceful as you’d been, but soon enough, he’s straddling the branch in front of you, facing you, his legs on either side of the limb to keep himself balanced. The limb dips ever so slightly under his weight. The closeness between you makes the air seem charged, a tension simmering beneath the surface.

“Impressive,” you say softly, tilting your head to regard him. “For a soldier, you climb trees like a schoolboy.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.” He shifts his position slightly, leaning forward, his hands braced on either side of the branch, bringing him closer, his gaze holding yours with unsettling intensity. “But what are you doing up here? Escaping the palace? Or just trying to find some peace?”

“Perhaps both,” you reply with a small sigh. “The view is nice up here. It gives me a different perspective.”

“Perspective,” he repeats thoughtfully. “Or maybe it’s a place to hide.”

Your gaze snaps to his, a flash of irritation rising at his too-accurate guess. “And if it is?”

“Then I understand.” His voice is soft, devoid of the teasing lilt he’d used earlier. “But sometimes… sometimes what we’re running from follows us, no matter how high we climb.”

His words strike something deep within you, and you avert your gaze, looking out at the horizon instead of meeting his eyes. “What do you want, Captain? Surely you didn’t climb this tree just to talk about running away.”

He shifts closer, his knee brushing against yours, the rough bark digging into your skirts as he leans forward slightly. His proximity is dizzying, his eyes searching yours with a kind of determination that makes your pulse quicken. “I thought… perhaps some company would be welcome. It’s a lovely day, and you seem… alone.”

“Alone, but not lonely,” you lied, the words almost a whisper. “Still, I appreciate the thought.”

“But you shouldn’t have to handle things alone,” he counters gently, his gaze softening as he watches you. “Sometimes, it helps to share the burden. Or at least… know there’s someone willing to share it.”

You glance down at the garden below, where the maids are casting furtive glances up at the two of you, their curiosity barely concealed. A murmur rises among them, speculation sparking like dry kindling. You can practically hear the gossip spreading like wildfire.

“Is this... concern for my well-being or more... personal interest, Captain?” you ask, your voice laced with challenge.

He holds your gaze, his expression softening in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Perhaps a bit of both,” he replies quietly.

A murmur rises among the maids, their eyes widening as they exchange knowing looks. Your gaze shifts briefly to them before returning to Steve’s, suspicion and confusion swirling in your chest.

“Captain Rogers, I—” You begin to speak but falter, unsure how to respond to this unexpected display of interest. 

He leans back slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “It’s just... Your Majesty, you deserve someone who sees you. Not just the crown, not just the queen, but you.”

The maids’ murmurs grow louder, and you force yourself to smile, though it feels brittle on your lips.

“That’s very kind of you to say, Captain,” you reply, your voice steady despite the confusion roiling inside you. “But perhaps you should keep such thoughts to yourself. I would hate for anyone to misunderstand your intentions.”

“Misunderstand?” he echoes, his smile widening just enough to be noticed. “I’m not sure there’s any misunderstanding when a man speaks his mind.”

Your eyes narrow, a flash of irritation sparking behind them. What game is he playing? Before you can press further, one of the maids drops a basket of flowers, the sudden clatter drawing both your attention. The young woman quickly bends to pick them up, her cheeks flushed, but not before she casts another furtive glance at you and Steve.

“Let them talk, Your Majesty. Sometimes, a little attention is exactly what’s needed.”

“Attention for whom?” you ask, your voice dropping to a whisper, your suspicion growing. “For me? Or for... someone else?”

His gaze doesn’t waver. “For whoever needs it,” he murmurs softly, the words thick with unspoken meaning.

You inhale deeply, holding his gaze as you speak. “I think it’s best if we don’t continue this conversation.”

With a quiet sigh, you carefully swing your legs over the branch and drop down, landing gracefully on the grass below. Steve follows suit, descending with a thud beside you, his presence lingering too close for comfort.

“Thank you for your... company, Captain,” you say quietly, smoothing down your skirts.

He dips his head in a respectful bow. “Of course, Your Majesty. I apologize if I overstepped.”

Without another word, you turn on your heel and make your way back to the estate, leaving him and his cryptic words behind among the watchful eyes and eager whispers of the maids.

The afternoon sun cast dappled shadows across the marble floors of the corridor as you made your way back to your chambers. Each step you took felt heavier, weighted down by the encounter in the garden, by Captain Rogers’ unexpected behavior, and the murmurs that had buzzed around you like a swarm of bees.

As you turned a corner, you caught sight of Scott—your valet—hovering a few paces behind. His presence was a familiar one, but something about it now felt... different. Obtrusive. You slowed your pace until you came to a halt, turning abruptly to face him.

“Scott,” you called softly, your tone edged with irritation and confusion. “Why are you following me?”

Scott, ever the stoic presence, dipped his head in a respectful bow. “Your Majesty, it’s my duty to attend to you.”

Your eyes narrowed as you took in the determined set of his shoulders, the way his gaze remained fixed just over your shoulder, never meeting your eyes. He’d been like this ever since you returned from Annecy—hovering in the shadows, always lingering close by.

“Yes, I know that, Scott,” you said slowly, studying him with a scrutinizing gaze. “But lately, you’ve been… hovering more than usual.”

His lips twitched, a fleeting sign of discomfort. “I apologize, Your Majesty. I merely wish to ensure your safety.”

“Ensure my safety?” you echoed, suspicion prickling at the back of your mind. You glanced around the empty corridor, a sense of unease settling in your chest. “Who ordered you to follow me around like this?”

Scott hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor before he glanced back up, his voice low. “It was the order of the king, Your Majesty.”

Your breath caught. Bucky? You frowned, confusion and frustration warring within you. Why would he do that? He hadn’t even bothered to see you, to speak to you since the night you confronted him. And yet, now he saw fit to have you followed?

“And… What of Captain Rogers?” you asked, your voice quieter now, a strange apprehension curling around your words. “Why does it seem like he’s been lingering around more often? Was that also at the king’s order?”

Scott shifted slightly, his expression remaining neutral, though there was a faint trace of something—sympathy, perhaps?—in his eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty. The king… he wanted to ensure you were… properly attended to.”

“Properly attended to?” You scoffed softly, shaking your head. The absurdity of it all threatened to choke you. “So, let me get this straight: His Majesty won’t speak to me, but he’ll send his best men to guard me as if I’m some helpless child in need of constant supervision?”

Scott stiffened slightly, but he didn’t respond, his silence speaking louder than any words could.

A bitter laugh escaped you, the sound harsh and brittle. “And here I thought I was being foolish for imagining things.” You looked back at Scott, your gaze piercing. “So, this—this is the king’s way of keeping me under lock and key?”

“It’s for your safety, Your Majesty,” Scott replied softly, his voice almost apologetic. “He wants to ensure nothing happens to you.”

“Nothing happens to me?” You shook your head, disbelief and anger simmering beneath your calm facade. “Nothing is happening to me. What does he think will happen to me? I’m not the one who’s running off and avoiding our marriage.”

Scott’s gaze dropped to the floor again, his silence confirming what you already knew. This wasn’t about your safety—at least not entirely. It was about control. About Bucky’s way of maintaining a grip on something he couldn’t seem to confront directly.

“Well,” you muttered, turning away sharply and continuing down the hall, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ll be sure to thank him for his... consideration.”

Scott fell into step a few paces behind you, his presence a shadow that only deepened your frustration. With each step you took, the realization settled deeper into your bones.

Bucky might have ordered this, but he was still keeping his distance. Still choosing to watch from afar, rather than face you. And that, more than anything, was what made your heart ache.

You stopped abruptly, your irritation bubbling to the surface as you turned back around to face Scott, a sudden thought lighting up your eyes. 

“You know what?” you murmured, voice edged with determination as a small, dangerous smile curled your lips. “I think I’d like to shoot some arrows.”

Scott’s eyes widened, a look of surprise flickering across his face. He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting away before he cleared his throat. 

“Your Majesty, I—” he started, hesitation written in every line of his posture.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head as if considering his reaction. “Is there a problem, Scott?” Your voice remained calm, but there was a sharpness beneath it, the kind that could cut through any excuse he might offer.

Scott’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, struggling to keep his composure. “I, uh, I don’t believe it’s wise, Your Majesty,” he murmured carefully, his voice almost too soft, too placating. “Perhaps… a walk in the gardens or a relaxing moment in the music room instead? Or I could—”

“Scott,” you interrupted sharply, crossing your arms over your chest as you leveled him with a pointed look. “Are you refusing your queen?”

The tension between you hung heavy in the air as his shoulders tightened, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the right words to say.

“Of course not, Your Majesty,” he managed finally, though his voice trembled ever so slightly. “It’s just… your safety—”

“My safety,” you echoed dryly, the irritation you had been holding back spilling out now. “Tell me, Scott, how exactly do arrows pose a threat to my safety? Unless I plan on aiming at myself, I believe I’ll be fine.”

His mouth twitched, struggling between his duty to follow orders and the fear of displeasing you. “It’s not the arrows, Your Majesty,” he murmured, choosing his words carefully. “It’s just… we were instructed to keep you... away from—”

“Instructed?” you cut in, incredulity and frustration sharpening your tone. “Instructed to keep me away from what? Activities that make me feel like I have a shred of control over my own life? I can’t even invite Lady, Romanoff, Potts and Maximoff.”

Scott shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the floor as if it held all the answers. “No, Your Majesty, of course not. It’s just—”

“Just what, Scott?” Your gaze was unrelenting, your patience wearing thin. “If you’re so worried about my safety, then be a good valet and stand by as I shoot. Ensure that nothing happens to me, since that is your duty, after all.”

He blinked, clearly caught between his loyalty to the king and his loyalty to you. The silence stretched long, taut and crackling with unspoken defiance. Finally, he exhaled softly, shoulders slumping just a little in reluctant acceptance.

“Very well, Your Majesty,” he said quietly, though his eyes remained wary. “I shall arrange for the equipment to be brought to the archery range. But… might I suggest a different method for alleviating your frustrations?”

You raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a faint smirk as you glanced at him. “Such as?”

“Perhaps a ride through the woods?” he offered quickly, hope lighting up his eyes. “Or I could arrange for a music instructor, or even some time in the library. Anything that would allow you to... relax.”

You let out a soft, humorless laugh. “You think a music lesson or a book will do the trick, do you?”

Scott hesitated but nodded, his voice gentle. “You’ve had a trying few days, Your Majesty. It’s natural to feel… frustrated. But there are ways to—”

“Enough,” you interrupted, your voice firm but not unkind. “I appreciate your concern, but I know what I need. Fetch the equipment. I won’t be persuaded otherwise.”

He sighed softly, bowing his head in reluctant submission. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

You turned away sharply, your gaze fixed on the distant view through the windows. The truth was, this wasn’t just about shooting arrows. It was about the tightness in your chest, the simmering anger beneath your skin, the need to do something other than sit around like a caged bird. Bucky had placed you under watch, yet he refused to see you.

If no one else would let you be free, then you would take what freedom you could. Even if it was just the satisfaction of a well-aimed arrow hitting its mark.

× × × ×

You stood at the archery range, your fingers gently tracing the fletching of an arrow. You could feel every set of eyes on you—Scott’s gaze wary and apprehensive, the handmaids’ murmuring softly amongst themselves, the guards standing at attention with blank faces. But most notable was Captain Rogers, his presence a solid, quiet reassurance, yet even he stood back, watching you like a hawk.

Taking a deep breath, you nocked the arrow, the smooth wood and feather a comforting weight in your hands. You narrowed your gaze, focusing on the target ahead. The world around you blurred, leaving only the taut string and the distant bullseye. And then, with a practiced release, you let it fly.

The arrow sailed through the air with a sharp hiss, striking the target with a satisfying thud. A few inches off-center, but still well within the mark. 

“Not bad,” Steve commented, a hint of admiration in his voice. “For a first shot.”

You turned to him with a raised brow, a glint of amusement in your eyes. “First shot of the day, you mean.” Then, without breaking eye contact, you nocked another arrow, your movements smooth, effortless.

Steve’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. He crossed his arms, stepping closer, though he kept a respectful distance. “Of course. I stand corrected, Your Majesty.”

Scott cleared his throat softly, stepping forward as if to remind everyone of the gravity of the situation. “Your Majesty,” he said, his voice laced with concern, “perhaps it would be best to—”

“To what?” you interrupted, the arrow poised and ready. “Put down the bow and take up knitting? Perhaps have a nice cup of tea and read a dull novel while I bide my time?”

Scott blinked, his lips pressing into a thin line, but he said nothing. Instead, his gaze shifted to Captain Rogers, almost as if hoping for support.

“Let her be, Scott,” Steve murmured, his tone gentle but firm. “If she wants to practice, let her practice.”

With that, you turned your attention back to the target, drawing the string taut. This time, the arrow flew with a deadly precision, landing just shy of the bullseye. A small ripple of approval murmured through the handmaidens, but Scott merely sighed.

You tilted your head, a sly smile curving your lips as you glanced at him. 

“Scott,” you began casually, as if speaking of the weather, “do we keep any paintings of His Majesty around the manor? Perhaps one in full regalia?” Your tone was innocent enough, but the implication hung heavy in the air.

The handmaidens exchanged startled glances, a few stifling giggles behind their hands. Steve’s gaze shifted sharply to you, his lips twitching, but he said nothing, watching the scene unfold with a barely hidden glimmer of amusement.

Scott, however, did not find it amusing in the slightest. His eyes widened slightly, and he straightened, his voice dropping into a low, chiding tone. “Your Majesty, that is not a funny joke.”

“Isn’t it?” You tilted your head, feigning a look of mock surprise. “I find it quite humorous.”

A muscle in Scott’s jaw twitched, but he composed himself quickly, his gaze flickering to Captain Rogers as if asking for assistance.

But Steve merely shrugged, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. “The queen does have a unique sense of humor,” he said lightly, his gaze still on you. “One might even say it’s… refreshing.”

You shot him a grateful glance before nocking yet another arrow, this time releasing it with a force that sent it whistling through the air. The arrow struck the outer ring of the target, and you clicked your tongue, feigning disappointment.

“Perhaps I need more inspiration,” you mused aloud, not bothering to hide the bitterness in your voice. “A better target. Or maybe something a bit more… personal.”

“Your Majesty,” Scott said warningly, stepping forward as if he might dare to take the bow from your hands. “This—”

You turned on him sharply, your expression hardening. “What?” you demanded softly. “This is my one small act of freedom. This range. These arrows. This target. Would you deny me even this?”

Silence fell over the group, thick and uncomfortable. The guards shifted uneasily, glancing at one another, unsure of how to proceed. The handmaidens fidgeted, casting worried looks in your direction. But Steve held his ground, his gaze never leaving you.

Scott swallowed, his eyes darting between you and Steve, then back again. “No, Your Majesty,” he said quietly, his shoulders slumping just slightly. “I would never deny you.”

“Good,” you murmured, lifting the bow again and taking aim, your gaze focused, unyielding. “Then let me have my small comforts, if nothing else.”

And with that, you released the arrow, the force of it reverberating through your arms. It struck the very edge of the target, just shy of missing altogether. You lowered the bow slowly, your heart hammering in your chest as you stared at the arrow, frustration coiling tightly within you.

“Perhaps next time,” you said softly, almost to yourself. “I’ll find a better target.”

Scott said nothing, his silence louder than any reprimand. But as you turned away, your gaze met Steve’s once more, and the warmth in his eyes—unspoken understanding, quiet admiration—was enough to dull the edge of your anger.

× × × ×

“Have you heard?” Lady Leah’s voice, soft but carrying the weight of scandal, broke through the hushed quiet of the drawing room. She leaned forward, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. “They still haven’t consummated.”

Lady Ravonna’s teacup paused halfway to her lips, a delicate brow arching. “The king and queen?” she murmured, as if the very notion were inconceivable. “How do you know?”

Leah’s lips curved into a smug smile. “People talk,” she said simply, glancing sideways at Sharon, who sat rigid, her fingers drumming against the arm of her chair. “And apparently, they talk quite a bit.”

“Seven days,” Lady Maya added softly, her gaze flitting between the women. “A week, and still… nothing?”

A delicate scoff escaped from Sharon’s lips, though her eyes were cold, calculating. “I’m not surprised. Our queen,” she sneered, the title dripping with disdain, “is too busy batting her lashes at Captain Rogers to notice she has a husband.”

The other women exchanged startled glances, shock and intrigue flaring to life in their eyes. Ravonna set her teacup down with deliberate care, her gaze narrowing slightly. “You’re saying there’s something between them?”

“I’m saying there’s enough for people to start talking,” Sharon replied coolly, her voice a low, dangerous purr. “You know how these things start—one whispered word, one lingering glance… and suddenly, there’s a story worth telling.”

Maya’s brow furrowed slightly, a hint of concern crossing her face. “But… the queen and the captain? It seems—”

“Impossible?” Sharon cut in sharply, “Hardly. The way he hovers around her, like she’s some delicate flower in need of protection… the way she looks at him, like he’s the answer to all her problems. It’s disgusting.”

The other women exchanged wary glances, sensing the venom simmering beneath Sharon’s words.

“Sharon, you should be careful,” Leah murmured softly, her gaze darting nervously to the door. “If people hear you speak like this—”

“Like what?” Sharon snapped, her voice laced with bitterness. “Like the queen is nothing more than a conniving bitch?” Her lips curled into a cruel smile, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Because that’s exactly what she is. A lying, manipulative whore who thinks she can just—”

“Sharon!” Maya hissed, glancing around the room frantically. “You can’t say that!”

But Sharon continued, undeterred, her voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “She’s a whore,” she repeated, the word dripping with venom. “Parading herself around like some saint, when she’s got Captain Rogers hanging on her every word. And for what? To make a fool of the king?”

Ravonna shifted uncomfortably, leaning forward to place a calming hand on Sharon’s arm. 

“Sharon, enough,” she murmured firmly, her tone gentle but insistent. “You need to calm down. Words like that will only bring trouble.”

Sharon’s gaze snapped to Ravonna’s, her eyes blazing. “No. Words like that will bring the truth to light. The truth about what she really is.”

“But you don’t know that for sure,” Maya whispered urgently. “It’s all just… whispers. Hearsay.”

Sharon let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Whispers are all we need. Whispers will turn into rumors, and rumors will turn into truths, whether they’re real or not.” She straightened, her gaze steely. “I’ll make sure of it.”

The other ladies exchanged uneasy looks, their faces pale. But it was Leah who spoke up, her voice trembling slightly. “And what if this all backfires? What if the king doesn’t believe it?”

“Then we make sure he does,” Sharon said coldly, “We make sure everyone believes it. Because if she thinks she can just waltz in here and steal everything I’ve worked for… she’s got another thing coming.”

“What exactly are you saying, Sharon? What do you intend to do?” Ravonna frowned, her gaze skeptical.

Sharon’s smile was slow, almost sinister.

“Nothing. For now.” She leaned back in her seat, the picture of composed fury. “The court will tear her apart on its own, once they realize she’s unfaithful. Once they see her for what she truly is.”

“But… how?” Leah asked hesitantly, her brow furrowing. “There’s no proof. No evidence.”

“There doesn’t need to be,” Sharon said dismissively. “People love a scandal. And the more outlandish it seems, the more they’ll believe it.”

“But Sharon,” Ravonna murmured, her voice tight with unease. “You’re playing with fire. If the king finds out—”

“Let him,” Sharon snapped, cutting her off. “Let him see what his perfect queen is really like. A disloyal wife. A disgrace. He’ll thank me in the end.”

They exchanged uneasy glances, none daring to speak, none daring to question further.

Finally, it was Maya who broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “But… what if it backfires?”

“Then it backfires,” Sharon said coolly, shrugging as if it were of no consequence. “But it won’t. Because I’ll make sure it doesn’t.” Her gaze hardened, her expression fierce. “No matter what it takes.”

× × × ×

The grand council chamber in the main palace was abuzz with tension, the air thick with barely restrained impatience and worry. High-ranking noblemen lined the long table, each one glancing nervously at the Dowager Queen as she entered the room with her head held high, her presence alone commanding silence.

Queen Winifred took her seat at the head of the table, her gaze sweeping over the gathered men. Prime Minister Fury, seated directly to her left, leaned forward, his brows knitted in frustration.

“It’s been seven days,” he began, his voice carrying a distinct edge of impatience. “Seven days, Your Majesty, and they still haven’t consummated their marriage.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, voices low but urgent.

Lord Haynesworth, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, spoke up next, his tone carefully measured but no less troubled. “Your Majesty, the lack of consummation is… troubling, to say the least. The kingdom needs stability, and without a legitimate heir, we risk giving dissenters an opening to question the monarchy’s strength.”

“Indeed,” Duke Townsend of Lancaster agreed, his fingers drumming restlessly against the polished wood of the table. “There are already whispers. Rival factions are looking for any sign of weakness, and this... delay is giving them all the ammunition they need. We cannot afford to let them think the crown is vulnerable.”

Queen Winifred’s gaze narrowed slightly as she listened to their concerns, her face a mask of calm composure. She had expected this—expected the panic, the finger-pointing, the thinly veiled attempts to shift blame.

“And without an heir,” Lord Pierce added, his voice rising, “we’re risking more than just whispers. We’re risking civil unrest. There are already reports of some nobles openly questioning whether the king is... able to fulfill his duties.”

Another wave of murmured agreement swept through the chamber, the words laced with anxiety and fear. But Queen Winifred remained impassive, her fingers resting lightly on the arm of her chair.

“Gentlemen,” she said, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade, “you are all acting as if I do not understand why there needs to be an heir.” She leaned forward slightly, her gaze sharp and unyielding.

“You forget that I am the one who secured the throne for my son after the turmoil of his father’s reign. I am well aware of the consequences should there be no successor.”

A strained silence fell over the room as the noblemen shifted uncomfortably in their seats, chided by her words. But it didn’t last long.

“Then what is being done, Your Majesty?” Lord Haynesworth pressed, his voice lower now, but no less insistent. “The queen has failed to... inspire confidence in the king. If this continues, we may have to consider alternate measures.”

A tense murmur followed, the suggestion hanging ominously in the air. Queen Winifred’s gaze turned icy, her eyes boring into the man who dared to voice such a thought.

“Are you suggesting,” she said softly, dangerously, “that we undermine the queen’s position? That we destabilize her standing at court?”

Lord Haynesworth cleared his throat, looking away, but Prime Minister Fury leaned in, his voice grim.

“Your Majesty, we’re suggesting that you take action—swiftly and decisively. It’s clear that Queen Y/N is not—”

“Careful, Fury,” Queen Winifred interrupted, her voice low and lethal. “Choose your next words very carefully.”

The Prime Minister paused, visibly reining in his frustration. “Your Majesty, the queen’s actions have been... questionable. If she cannot perform her duties as a wife, how can we expect her to perform her duties as a queen?”

Another murmur of agreement rose from the table, the men nodding, emboldened by the Prime Minister’s words. But Queen Winifred’s gaze remained cold, calculating.

“There are still three days left before the period of seclusion ends,” she said firmly, cutting through their mutterings. “We will not resort to drastic measures based on impatience and rumors. The queen is more than capable of fulfilling her role, and I will not have her judged prematurely.”

“But Your Majesty—” Duke Townsend began, only to be silenced by a sharp glare from the Dowager Queen.

“Need I remind you all,” she continued icily, “that this entire situation was precipitated by the king’s absence and neglect? My son bears just as much responsibility for this situation, if not more. Do not lay the blame solely at the queen’s feet.”

“Of course not, Your Majesty.” A smooth, honeyed voice cut through the murmur of agreement, drawing all eyes to Lord Carter, seated near the middle of the table. He inclined his head slightly, his expression the picture of respectful deference. “We know the queen is… new to this role. As you said, she has shown great patience. But we must ensure she understands the gravity of her position.”

Queen Winifred’s gaze shifted to him, her expression cooling a fraction. “Are you implying that she does not?”

Lord Carter smiled gently, his fingers tapping lightly on the table in a rhythm that seemed almost contemplative. “Not at all, Your Majesty. I merely suggest that perhaps the queen might benefit from… additional guidance. From those more experienced in navigating the complexities of the court and the expectations that come with the crown.”

His tone was mild, even reasonable, but beneath the surface, there was an undercurrent of something dangerous, something quietly undermining. A subtle criticism wrapped in a layer of politeness, creating ripples of doubt with each carefully chosen word.

“And what sort of guidance would you suggest, Lord Carter?” Winifred asked, her voice deceptively soft.

He spread his hands, a faint smile touching his lips. “Nothing drastic, Your Majesty. Just… an assurance that she understands the full extent of what is at stake. We would not want any misunderstandings to arise, after all.”

Queen Winifred’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded once, her gaze never leaving his. “I see. Well, rest assured, Lord Carter, I will make certain that the queen is fully aware of her responsibilities. And I will remind all of you once again—there are three days left. We will revisit this matter then.”

The subtle warning in her tone was not lost on the gathered men. They shifted uncomfortably, casting uneasy glances at one another.

“Three more days,” she repeated, her gaze sweeping over each of them, daring them to argue. “Until then, I expect every one of you to refrain from spreading further discontent and to let me handle this matter. Is that understood?”

A chorus of reluctant nods and mumbled affirmations followed, but none dared to protest further.

“Good,” Queen Winifred murmured, rising to her feet with regal grace. “Because should any of you take matters into your own hands before the honeymoon period ends, you will find yourselves facing more than just my displeasure.”

With that, she turned on her heel and swept out of the room, leaving the noblemen in stunned silence. As the heavy doors closed behind her, the men exchanged wary looks, unease settling like a shroud over the council chamber.

“She’s defending the queen,” Lord Trenton muttered, disbelief etched into his features. “I never thought...”

Lord Carter, his gaze lingering thoughtfully on the closed doors, smiled faintly, his expression carefully neutral. “Three days,” he repeated softly, his voice carrying a measured tone. “We shall see if the queen can prove herself worthy of that defense.”

“Three days,” Duke Townsend muttered, shaking his head. “She expects us to wait three more days while the court fills with rumors and discontent. This cannot end well.”

“Waiting is no longer a luxury we can afford,” Lord Pierce interjected quietly, his gaze darting toward Lord Carter. “We’re already seeing signs of division among the lower houses. If this continues…”

Prime Minister Fury leaned forward, his voice a low, harsh whisper. “It’s not just the lower houses we need to worry about. Every day without an heir gives the rivals more time to gather support. We need stability now.”

“Then perhaps,” Lord Carter said softly, his tone calm amidst the brewing storm, “it is not the queen we should be questioning.” His words drew curious, cautious glances, and he smiled faintly. “There are two parties in a marriage, after all. If an heir is what we need, perhaps we should be focusing our efforts elsewhere.”

A silence settled over the group, heavy and charged with unspoken meaning.

“You mean the king,” Duke Townsend murmured, a slight frown pulling at his features. “But His Majesty—”

“—Is just as responsible,” Lord Carter finished smoothly, his gaze steady. “We’ve already seen how his absence affects the queen’s standing. Perhaps it is time we remind him of the consequences if he continues to... neglect his duties.”

“Careful, Carter,” Prime Minister Fury warned, his voice laced with tension. “Tread lightly. The queen dowager may have left, but her influence hasn’t. One wrong move, and you’ll have more than the crown’s displeasure to contend with.”

Lord Carter’s smile never wavered, but his eyes held a dangerous glint. “I assure you, Prime Minister, I am well aware of where the true power lies. But if the queen dowager wishes to protect the queen, she must remember that protection does not extend to inaction.”

The men exchanged wary looks, the conversation shifting into murmured agreement. The line had been drawn, the challenge subtly issued. And even as they debated, the weight of Lord Carter’s words lingered in the air, thick with intent and unspoken plans.

Three days. Three days to see if the queen would succeed… or if the cracks in the crown would deepen beyond repair.

tags: @theendofthematerialgworl @httpb3a @spiidergirlsworld @sebastians-love @stevesbbgorl

@targaryenhues @almosttoopizza @scott-loki-barnes @brckenmemories @vicmc624

@classicrebound @nommingonfood @greatenthusiasttidalwave @railmesebstan @annawilk

@landoslutmeout @winterslove1917 @missvelvetsstuff @s0kovianwitch

[harunayuuka2060]

WHB Series #1 (Cont.)

Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Belphegor, and Lucifer: *are in a meeting to discuss the situation in heaven*

Leviathan: Over the past few weeks, we've been hearing cries from above, followed by silence, only for the sound to repeat again.

Leviathan: It appears the slaughter of angels is still ongoing.

Lucifer: Let’s not forget that young devils are being released and sent to the countries best suited to their abilities.

Lucifer: I've recently received ten young devils.

Mammon: Not bad. I've got 30 young devils.

Beelzebub: *chuckles* Well, it seems that Belphie and I are the only kings who haven’t been given young devils.

Belphegor: It's because the descendant of Solomon thinks we're irresponsible.

Belphegor: *smiles* Not that they're wrong though.

Satan: Have got any news on what MC is doing?

Leviathan: ...

Leviathan: I've tried going there myself, but it seems the security has been tightened, making it difficult for outsiders to enter.

Leviathan: However, I encountered two angels who willingly told me what the descendant of Solomon was up to.

Leviathan: And according to them, they-

Random Angel A: ...Fixing the system.

Random Angel B: We may be assigned to the human world for our new duties.

The kings: ...

Satan: Ah, it reminds me of their military training.*laughs*

Mammon: Anything else?

Leviathan: ...

Leviathan: Foras will attempt to visit them next time.

Mammon: I see. Oh, I almost forgot.

Mammon: Are we going to call them 'god' the next time we meet?

Satan: No, don't do that.

Lucifer: I agree. I doubt the descendant of Solomon would like it.

Belphegor: Huh... But didn't you say so yourself that they're the reincarnation of god?

Lucifer: I did; however, for them, it was all an act to subdue the angels.

Beelzebub: That's true. Besides, I don't think 'love' is even in their vocabulary.

Satan: Hey! They can love!

Leviathan: Yes. Love for animals.

The kings: ...

MC: *with their head resting on Michael's lap as they look through the names of the remaining angels*

Michael: ...

Gabriel and Raphael: ...

Raphael: God, you could have used me as your pillow. I'd be more than willing.

MC: You and Gabriel won't stop fighting, so it's better this way.

Michael: 'Better this way'? Are you confident that I won't kill you?

MC: *looks at him with a bored expression*

MC: You've had many chances to kill me, including this one.

MC: It's not my fault you're incompetent.

Michael: ...

Raphael and Gabriel: ...

MC: *sigh* *gets up*

MC: Gabriel, Raphael, let's go.

MC: There are still rats lurking in the corners of heaven. *talking about the angels who escaped Raphael and Gabriel*

Foras: Is this what they're doing now?

MC: *watches as the lower-rank angels get killed*

Foras: ...

MC: What are you doing here, Foras? Did Leviathan send you?

Foras: !!!

Foras: ...

Foras: Yes.

MC: What for?

Foras: His Majesty has been curious about what you've been up to.

MC: You can see for yourself.

Foras: ...

MC: Raphael.

Raphael: *turns to look at them* *smiles* Yes, god?

MC: ...

MC: I noticed that some of them are good-looking ones. Who created them?

Raphael: They're angels under Michael's guidance.

MC: Ah. Save their heads. I'm going to recycle them.

Raphael: ...

Foras: *his eyes widened*

Raphael: ...

Raphael: As you wish, god.

Gabriel: ...

Gabriel: *begins crushing the heads of the dead angels beneath his feet*

MC: Gabriel, that's enough.

Gabriel: But—

MC: *gives him a stern look*

Gabriel: ... *blushes*

Foras: ...

Foras: It seems you have it under control.

MC: *proud smile* Right?

Raphael and Gabriel: *thinking that the smile is for them*

Raphael: *accidentally crushed the head he's holding*

Raphael: ...

Gabriel: Pft—

MC: ...

MC: What a shame. I liked that one.

Raphael: ...

Raphael: I'll be more careful next time.

Foras: ...

Leviathan, Barbatos, and Glasyalabolas: ...

Glasyalabolas: I wish I could've seen that myself.

Barbatos: Did they tell you what they would do with those?

Foras: No.

Leviathan: ...

Foras: Your Majesty?

Leviathan: ...

Leviathan: *chuckles* Let's wait to find out what it is.

[blarshwritezz]

Yandere King sadistic x male reader prince. He fell in love with you at first sight when you made a diplomatic visit to his kingdom, you are kind to everyone and he is cruel even to his nobility.

After a while, he proposed marriage but you refused, much to his anger.

He invades your kingdom and captures you, and forces you to marry him and guarantees that the honeymoon will be full of punishments for rejecting him.

Yandere King x Prince Reader

M yan x M reader

TW - general yandere behavior, manipulation, abuse of power

King!Yan didn't understand you. You were nice, even to lowly peasants and servants, and it didn't seem to be for your own gain. You would even give them rewards and assist in tasks at times.

But what confused him the most was how you made his heart want to burst out of his chest and place itself in your hands.

He's never felt like this, not even on the battlefield. He just lived the adrenaline rush he got when destroying another kingdom and taking it over, claiming it as his own.

He first saw you when your father and mother brought you along for a diplomatic meeting, attempting to gain his assistance in a war that seemed to be on the horizon. Who did they think they were?

It was when you were talking to one of the many maids in his palace. It wasn't much, you just told her that you were grateful for hers and everyone's hard work, saying his palace looked immaculate. But it was his palace, you should be giving your compliments to him.

He carefully watched you for the entirety of your stay. And over the week, he was certain. He wanted you.

And he always got what he wanted.

So, at the end of the week, he made a proposal to your parents. "I'll protect your measly kingdom...for your son's hand in marriage."

Not wanting to speak on your behalf, your parents brought you in. And so, after a moment of consideration, you gave him your answer: "I'm sorry, your majesty, but I'm afraid I simply can't. This is far too sudden, and I don't think we'd be a very good match, anyway." You bowed, giving him a kind smile as you stood up straight again.

He didn't like this...not one bit. He left the room without a word, a butler coming in soon after telling you and your family to go home.

For the next month, you worried if you made the right choice. Your parents were clearly stressed, as one of the neighboring countries has been preparing for war, threatening to act if they didn't get what they wanted. But that would leave your kingdom in a state of disarray.

So maybe you should have agreed, just for your kingdom's safety, but at the end of the day it might not guarantee anything. He could still come after your home, your family, and your people after you become his husband, if you were to agree. And that didn't even take into consideration your own safety...

You knew he was beyond cruel. Even monsters would fear him.

You sat alone in your room, pondering all this for the millionth time this month, when it happened. Your personal butler bist in, clearly in disarray. "Your Highness! The castle, it's under attack! Quickly, you must-" But he couldn't finish. Not before a double sided axe found its new home deep in his skull.

As he fell to the floor, blood staining your carpet, you stared in horror at the man who did it. The king had come for you...

"Come on now, my husband." He lifted you by the neck before slinging you over his shoulder and carrying you out. "I'll have to punish you on our honeymoon. I can't wait to see how good you'll look covered in bruises~"

I feel like this one was a bit rushed- sorry about that