#Knight AU

[enchanted-by-fae]

I Love You (and That’s All I Really Know) - Azriel x Reader

Pairing: Knight!Azriel x Princess!Reader

Summary: You were his princess, and he was just a knight. Azriel was ready to prove he's worthy of your love.

4.2k words

Warnings: Jousting (nothing graphic), fluff, slight forbidden romance, angst kinda, author knows nothing about swordplay or jousting, Az doesn’t have his shadows, Eris is a bad guy in this, low key this is just adorable.

A/N: This is my first one-shot so hopefully you guys like it! The title and the story itself were influenced by Love Story by Taylor Swift. I was also kind of inspired by the first episode of House of the Dragon and the movie A Knights Tale

Azriel knew it was wrong. You were his princess and he was just a knight. The grand tourney would be held on the morrow and Azriel was ready to win. Not just the tourney but your affections as well. He needed to prove that he was worthy of loving you. 

The knight had been in love with you for years. He was best friends with your brother, Rhysand. They grew close as brothers, training together to one day become the greatest heroes your world has seen. Alongside their other best friend, Cassian, the three were inseparable. 

Azriel still remembers the day he first met you. He was still just a squire and didn’t even know who you were at first when he saw you. All he had seen was a girl chasing a rabbit on the grounds and he couldn’t help but be curious as to what you were up to. He saw you run into the forest after it, leaving him to chase after you. He would’ve felt responsible if something had happened when he could’ve prevented it.

“Hello?” he called out, not wanting to admit he actually was quite afraid to enter the forest alone. He had rumors as a child that sprites and faeries occupied this land and he wasn’t ready to learn the truth just yet. Azriel waited at the edge of the forest for your response but he never heard one. 

“Okay Az, man up,” he spoke aloud to himself. He took the first steps into the forest, looking for a sign as to where you could've run off to. “Sprites, if you live here then I beg you to please leave me alone,” he rambled. Azriel was able to find his bravery the further into the forest he ventured. He was going to be the world's greatest knight after all. After searching for a while Azriel began to question if you even ran in this direction. “Miss? Are you there?” he called again. 

He stopped for a moment to take in the surroundings, “where did you go?”, he pondered. Most people thought Azriel hated talking, in reality he just didn’t like people brushing him off. He found that the less you talk the more people pay attention when you actually have something to say. Of course, he never was like that with Rhys or Cass. His best friends were the only people he could truly be himself around. Another time he loved talking? When he was alone. He loved talking to himself. Who better to listen to him than- well, him.

“Okay,” he sighed out, “this better not be some game. I’m starting to get freaked out.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” a soft voice said behind him. Azriels eyes practically sprung out of his head as he completely stilled, scared to death at the mystery voice.

“Oh, sorry. Did I scare you again?” a girl. It was a girl speaking. Az let out a massive sigh of relief, finally being able to breath again, and turned to face the person he’s been searching for. You were the princess. He hadn’t recognized you as such when he saw you run off.

“You’re highness,” he immediately bowed. You just stood there, giggling. Azriel couldn’t help but be annoyed at that. “I came looking for you, not wanting to see you in trouble,” he explained. 

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” you questioned.

Az thought that surely you couldn’t be serious, “well the forest is a dangerous place. It’s rumored that sprites and faeries live here.”

“Oh, well I haven’t seen any sprites. And I don’t think I’ve seen any faeries either,” you beamed. “I just came to help a rabbit friend,” Azriel thought at that moment you must be insane.

He looked at you quizzically, “a rabbit friend?”

You nodded your head, “yes- well, I mean that we’re friends now. He had a thorn stuck in his paw and the poor thing was in pain. We get along quite well now!” Azriels brows furrowed and you just giggled at him. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” you laughed. He had never heard such a lovely sound before. If he could, Azriel would only listen to your laugh forever.

“I’ve just never heard of someone having a rabbit friend before,” he reasoned. 

You just gave him a small shrug before starting the walk back to the palace. “I’m not crazy, just so you know,” you told him. Azriel just looked at you, in hopes of an explanation. “I just think that animals deserve the same respect and love as people. We did invade their homes after all.”

Azriel had never thought of it like that before but he supposed you were right. There’s something so beautiful about nature but then people came along and built palaces and villages. Taking over the land. He admired the way your brain works.

“Hey, you’re my brother's friend aren’t you?” you inquired. 

“Yeah, Rhysand and I are pretty close,” he answered. 

You looked at him with a smile, “he has good taste in friends then. Thank you for coming after me,” you gracefully inclined your head in gratitude.

Azriel offered a smile in return, “of course, princess.”

“Please, call me Y/N,” you asked him.

“Of course, Y/N,” he corrected. Just then he remembered he hadn’t told you his name, “you can call me Azriel.”

“Azriel,” you tried it out. “I like it!” you proclaimed. Now Azriel was offering you a chuckle of his own. He couldn’t remember the last time someone who wasn't Rhys or Cass got him to laugh. In fact, he couldn’t remember when someone who wasn’t his friends got him to talk this much. 

The two of you made your way back to the palace, chatting the entire way back. 

“Well, Azriel, I should get back to my lessons. I’m sure my tutor is having a fit,” you explained. “Thanks again for the escort,” you then started the journey to your study and Azriel just stood there watching you walk away.

“My pleasure, Y/N,” he whispered to himself. 

—

The two of you maintained a steady friendship throughout the years. You grew into a lovely young woman. Always compassionate towards your people, and you still cared a great deal for animals. You also were pretty brilliant. Azriel found himself amazed at some of the things you came up with. Your mind was one of the things he loved most about you. 

As you and he got older, he found himself falling more and more in love with you. He almost confessed it to you just a few months ago at your nameday celebration, but he chickened out at the last moment. He was just a knight. They typically didn’t marry princesses, especially bastards like him.

He did have a plan, however, to make his love for you known. The king was throwing an upcoming tourney to celebrate Rhysands marriage to Lady Feyre. The champion prize was having a wish granted by the king. He planned to ask you for a token of luck before he was to joust and when he won, that will be when he asks for your hand.

—

“Princess Y/N,” Azriel greeted as he found you roaming the gardens, guards lingering behind.

A graceful smile bloomed across your face, “Az, please just call me Y/N,”

Azriel shook his head, a smile of his own appearing, “I just like to tease you.”

“Well don't! It’s not nice to treat your princess that way,” you justified.

“You just said to not call you princess!” he exclaimed. He loved it when the two of you had these playful arguments. They made something in his stomach pleasantly twist.

You were trying to remain serious but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, “you should still treat me as a princess.”

If things went his way tomorrow, he would treat you as a princess everyday for the rest of his life. He just slightly bowed his head towards you, “of course prin- Y/N.”

You gave him a playful head shake at his correction. “Are you ready for the tourney tomorrow,” you changed the subject. 

Azriel tries not to give away his plans for tomorrow regarding you. He wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. “Of course I am,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

You turn towards Azriel, who's now walking beside you in the garden. He watches as you study his face slowly, looking for any signs of deception. Azriel has known you for a long time but you've known him for a long time too. You know all of his tells just as well as he knows yours. Yes, you were definitely onto him.

“That's great Az,” you say finally. He lets out a silent breath of relief.  “I’m sure you’ll win, the only other real competition is Cass,” you add.

Az paused, he completely forgot Cassian was jousting too. He should tell Cass of his plan to propose to you. His friend was enough of a romantic that Azriel was sure that he could get him to throw the competition. 

Cassian married Lady Nesta just a few months ago and they were disgustingly adorable. Lady Nesta was the eldest sister of Rhysands new wife, Feyre. He thought it was nice how his brothers found sisters to wed. He was even happier to have you all to himself now that Cass was out of the way. There were a few years where all Cassian could do was flirt with you. Azriel had never been more jealous in his life. He eventually snapped and let his brother in on his affections for you. His friend backed off after that.

“Oh, I’m not worried about “The Lord of Bloodshed”, or whatever he wants to call himself,” Azriel teased. Cass had started to call himself that after the first battle the three of them fought together. Az had never seen anything like it, he was almost demon-like out there. It was strange as Cassian was much different when he was with his friends.

You just giggled at Azriels teasing, “You’re not worried about perhaps the greatest knight this kingdom has ever seen, Sir Azriel?” Az couldn’t help the fluttering of his heart as you used his proper title. 

“Trust me, sweetheart, if anyone here is the greatest then it's me,” he confidently replied. Azriel didn’t miss the flush of your cheeks at the term of endearment used. 

“Then I wish you luck,” you curtseyed, “I shall see you on the morrow then?” 

Az gave you a bow and took your hand in his, placing a delicate kiss to your knuckles, “you shall.” Your face flushed to deep crimson before pulling your hand back and stalking off back towards the palace

—

Azriel found Cassian in the training yard, and he wasn’t alone. He found his two best friends in an intense sword fight. Both of them were very good. Az found peace in knowing Rhysand wouldn’t be competing tomorrow, as the tourney was to celebrate his marriage. That just left him to deal with Cassian, who at that moment knocked his opponent on his ass, leaving Rhysand as the loser. 

“Well, well, well, look who decided to show his face at training,” Cassian called out to Azriel, helping pull Rhys back to his feet.

“Nice fight,” Azriel turned towards Rhysand, “sorry you had your ass handed to you.”

Cassian let out a chuckle, “he sure as hell did.” Rhysand was not amused, scowling at them both. “Oh wipe that face off, Rhys. You’re probably just tired,” Cass smirked, “Feyre wearing you out?”

Rhysand just looked at Cassian with a devilish grin, “something like that.” 

Azriel just stood there, laughing at his friends. “Cassian, could I speak with you about something?” he asked. Cassian just looked at him with a quizzical brow.

“Why do you just need to speak to Cass?” Rhysand questioned, “I am your prince, after all.” Azriel was starting to ponder if pulling rank was a family trait. 

Azriel never actually told Rhysand about his love for you. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable but he supposed it would be nice to have both his best friends backing him up tomorrow. 

Azriel took a deep inhale before speaking, “I’m going to wish for Y/N’s hand in marriage when I win tomorrow.”

Rhysand and Cassian dropped their swords simultaneously, staring at Azriel.

“You- wait my sister?”

“Finally!” The two exclaimed at once. Cassian wrapped his arms around Azriel, “you have my congratulations, brother,” he beamed.

“You knew about this?” Rhysand questioned Cass. 

Cassian let out a sigh as he backed away from embracing Azriel. “yes, Rhys. I knew,” his response laced with guilt.

Rhysands confusion grew deeper and deeper. The only thing holding Azriel together was that he didn’t seem angry. “How- how long have you been in love with my sister?” Rhys asked.

Azriel shit his eyes, breathed, and reopened them, “since the day I met her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rhysand seemed more hurt than the fact his best friend was in love with his sister. 

Azriel felt guilt coursing through him, “I didn’t know how you’d react. I thought you’d be angry,” he confessed.

Rhysand just blew out a sigh, “Why would I be angry?” It was now Azriels turn for confusion. “I honestly couldn’t think of a man more deserving than you to marry her,” Rhys informed.

“You truly mean that?” Az couldn’t contain the small grin he had.

Rhysand nodded, “of course,” he walked over and clapped Azriel on the shoulder, “she’d be lucky to have you. And you’d be lucky to have her.”

“Does this mean I have your blessing then?” Azriel queried.

Rhysand gave him a wide grin, “of course, although it’s not mine you need. How do you plan to convince the king?”

“I have a plan,” Azriel told his brothers before bringing his attention back to Cassian, “I need a favor.”

“Anything,” Cassian responded. Azriel informed his brothers of just how he’ll gain your fathers approval.

—

Azriel was set to fight his first match against a knight he had never heard of until before today, he was good. Not as good as Azriel, however. Azriel beat opponent after opponent, the crowd cheering his name. He loved the rush of the sport but if he was being honest with himself, he only cared if you were cheering his name. Which you were.

Azriel picked out your voice instantly, as it was the loudest. He looked at the royal box where you were seated on the left of your father, Nesta on your other side. When you weren’t cheering for Az, you were conversing with the lady. Azriel thought it was sweet how well you got along with her and Feyre. The latter of whom was seated next to Rhysand, on the opposite side of your father.

Soon Azriel found himself going against Cassian. During the conversation they had the day prior, his friend had agreed to lose. He felt bad asking it of Cass, but Azriel needed to win. 

Azriel saddled himself on his horse once more and did a quick canter around the arena. He stopped just below the royal box.

“Princess Y/N” he called, using your formal title considering how public you currently were. His heart skipped a beat as you appeared before him.

“Yes, Sir Azriel?” you questioned, a mischievous smile gracing your face.

“Might I have a token? For luck,” he raised his lance high enough for you to bestow your favor. You nodded your head before you darted off to your seat to grab your gift.

“For you, good sir,” you came back with an intricately weaved wreath of flowers, placing it down on his lance. You leaned over the balcony just enough for Az to hear, “Win my heart, Sir Azriel.” You smiled at his dazed expression before returning to your spot besides the king. 

Azriel just sat there on his horse, amazed at what you had just said. He finally snapped back into reality and rode back to his starting position. He was ready to win your heart. 

—

Azriel was at his end of the fence, waiting for the signal to face off against Cassian. You were so close. Finally, Cassian emerged from his end of the barrier. Azriel looked towards his friend and noticed that he was riding a different horse. Then he noticed that the suit of armor was not the one Cass wore. And the killing blow was when the knight took off his helmet and revealed the face of Sir Eris.

Azriel called for a time out before the joust could begin, needing to check what happened with Cassian. He took off on his horse towards the opposite end in search of answers.

He arrived towards his new opponent, “Sir Eris, what has happened to Cassian?”

Eris let out a scoff, “you mean that idiot?”

Azriel glared at him, “yes, him.”

“Oh, well you see,” Eris began, “he lost.”

That wasn’t right. Cassian doesn’t lose. Especially to fools like Eris. Azriel never liked him. He was always full of himself. Thinking he was better all because he was to be the king of his own kingdom someday. Rhysand was in line for his own throne, and his friend still maintained humility.

“I doubt that is the truth of the matter,” Azriel defended. He hadn’t seen every tournament today, he was busy competing on his own as there were multiple tournaments being held. It was all meant to lead up to this, the grand finale. Azriel hoped that Eris was just making a show of himself, rather than telling the truth.

“Oh but it is,” Eris smirked, “I knocked him down myself. See for yourself.” Azriel followed to where Eris’ line of sight went, the royal box. 

There he sat, next to his wife. Cassian was hanging his head in his hands, upset by the defeat and that he wouldn’t be able to help his brother any longer. Nesta rubbed comforting circles on his back and you moved to sit at his feet in hopes of cheering him. 

“I wish you luck, Sir Azriel,” Eris mockingly bowed his head before placing his helmet back on.

Azriel galloped back to his end of the arena. He took a few deep breaths, thinking everything through. He knew he could take down Eris, but it would’ve been helpful if he had the guaranteed win he had with Cassian. If he lost, he’d never be able to marry you. He had to clear all the negativity from his mind. He would win. He could do this. Azriel would do as you told him and win your heart. 

The signal went off for the grand finale to begin. Eris galloped down first, charging with might. Azriel followed almost instantly, securing his helmet. Focus. He needed to focus. Azriel, with direct precision, aimed for Eris’s shoulder. It would earn him a few points if the blow landed. 

It didn’t. The blow just missed Eris and instead one landed on Azrael's shoulder. One point for Eris.

Their squires handed each of them a new lance, set to begin round two. They began their gallops down again. Eris landed another blow on Az on his shoulder. Eris now had two points on Azriel.

The third round would be the last if Eris landed another blow. The first to three points wins so that meant Azriel had to get at least one point, in hopes of continuing longer with a chance of a comeback. He had another option as well. If he knocked Eris from his horse then he would automatically be declared as the winner. 

Az blew out a breath, “okay, I can do this. Just knock Eris on his ass,” Azriel rambled to himself. He never could break the habit. “Easy enough,” he confidently whispered.

Azriels squire handed him his final lance, desperate to get this over with and to make you his at last. The two nights began their descents towards each other, lances ready to deliver their final blows. 

This time Azriel aimed further in, closer to Eris’ chest. He galloped and galloped. He had something to fight for. Someone to fight for. You. All he could think of was just how lovely you are and how he so desperately wanted to you to be in his arms.

Azriel landed his blow. Eris missed. He missed and was immediately knocked off his horse. He had done it. Azriel won. He removed his helmet and let out a laugh. Not because it was funny, but because he gets his wish and Eris gets nothing.

Azriel trotted over towards the royal box, ready to face your father. He got off his horse smoothly and there you were, looking at him in a way he had always hoped you would.

“Sir Azriel,” the king started, rising from his seat, “it seems as though congratulations are in order.”

Azriel kneeled before his king, “thank you, your majesty. The honor was mine.”

“You do understand what you receive for your victory, yes?” the king asked. 

“Yes, one wish granted,” Azriel nodded breathlessly. He could hardly contain his nervous excitement. 

The king took a moment, “that is correct.” The king began walking towards Azriel until there wasn’t much space left between them. “Stand,” he ordered. Azriel did as he said, rising to meet his king's eyes. “What is it you would wish for?” he asked.

“I would like to ask for the hand of Princess Y/N,” he nervously asked. Azriel took a fleeting glance towards you, making eye contact. He wanted to spend forever looking into your eyes. Azriel lost his nerves completely, knowing you were looking at him with such admiration. 

“I wish to make her my bride. I wish to make her happy for the rest of her life. I wish to love her, and to hold her. I wish for Y/N, my king” Azriel requested in his most authoritative voice. 

The king's face was one of indifference, “are you not a bastard?”

Azriel won the tourney. His birth status should not matter anymore. He was tired of the obstacles in his way. He felt his temper bubble to the surface. That was when Az felt a gentle hand place itself on his forearm. He looked to his side, and there you were.

“Father, the rules stated the winner would have any wish granted to them,” you came to his defense. 

“Yes but, Y/N, he’s a bastard,” the king justified.

“I love him, as he loves me,” you proclaimed. Azriel had no idea that you truly returned his feelings. Of course he suspected, that was why he had done all of this after all. Hearing it from you made his chest thunder with excitement. You loved him. 

The king looked between the two of you, “you truly love him?” he asked his daughter.

“Yes father, I do. Please grant him this wish,” you began to plead. 

Your father looked towards Azriel now, “you truly love her?” he asked Azriel, repeating the same question he had for you.

“I do,” Azriel said without a second thought. “I love her and wish to make her my wife,” he continued, looking down towards you. 

You felt his gaze upon you and turned to make eye contact with him, giving him a smile he had never seen you wear before but he somehow loved this one the most. “Please, father” you begged once more.

The king examined Azriel once more, then brought his gaze to you. “Very well, the two of you shall be married,” he declared loud enough for most of the arena to hear. Soon enough applause and cheers filled the open space, the crowd rejoicing in the news. 

With that the tourney came to a close, the king and his royal guard taking their leave. Azriel spared a quick glance to his friends as they left with Feyre and Nesta, presumably to give him a moment alone with his fiancée. He loved that he could call you that now. And soon, you'd be his wife.

When everyone in the royal box left and the two of you were as close to being alone as possible, he went to gently take your face into his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you love me?” he asked you.

“Well, why didn’t you tell me you love me?” you retorted. 

Azriel let out a chuckle, “you have me there, princess.”

“I’m sorry I never told you. Truthfully,” you removed his hands from your face, pulling them close to your chest, “I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

Azriels eyes bulged, “you- you have?” You just gave him a shy nod in response. “In the name of honesty,” he breathed out a laugh. He couldn’t believe you loved him just as long as he did you. “I’ve loved you since that very day as well,” he confessed.

You giggled, “we’ve both been rather foolish, haven’t we?”

“Yes, my love, I’m afraid we have,” he giggled with you. Azriel wasn’t planning on wasting one more second. He removed one hand from yours, taking it to place back on your cheek. His thumb softly stroked the skin there. He leaned down, hovering just above your lips. “I love you, Y/N,” he breathed out.

“I love you, Az,” you whispered back just before he closed the distance. Finally, after years of waiting, he sealed your lips with a kiss. He had won your heart just as you had won his.

—

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for a little while now so I'm very happy I finally got around to writing it! You are all so amazing, I really appreciate all of your support 🥰❤️

[queen-of-elves]

Handsome knight! Aemond

[vexinight]

⚔️WIP

[roguefiction]

You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

[wyyrdplayy]

My knight AU Gideon was lonely so I made her a Lady Harrowhark to flex for

Prints!!

[child-of-plut0]

they spar sometimes idk

[nanaminxs]

Knight!Jason Todd who’s head over heels for his princess, though it is forbidden for a lowly knight like him to yearn for something as sweet and gentle as you.

Knight!Jason Todd who can’t keep his hands off you when you ask him to accompany you in the village. It can be a hand on the small of your back, or waist. It doesn’t matter. He’s just constantly touching you.

Knight!Jason Todd who gets angry when you tell him your father is arranging a marriage for you and another prince. Who isn’t worthy of you at all.

Knight!Jason Todd who sneaks into your chambers that night, confessing in the most nastiest way to you.

You knew if your father ever found out your knight was balls deep inside of you he’d have his head on a stick outside of your window.

His breath is muffled from the way his teeth sunk into your shoulder, peppering kisses to soothe the burn. “He doesn’t deserve you, he doesn’t burn for you. Not like I do.”

You cling onto him, careful to keep your moans in. The last thing you want is someone walking in on you getting your guts rearranged.

“I do not have a c-choice—hah Jason!” Your gummy walls flutter around him, gripping him like a vice, Jason feels like he’s going mad.

“Run away with me. Dunno’ where we might end up, but I’ll keep you..fuck..safe. Promise.” His thumb rubs tight circles against your clit, lips meeting yours in an attempt to silence himself as he dumps a load into you.

I don’t think Jason will be too thrilled to know Dick Grayson is set to marry you.

[bugsinmyhoney]

knight nami

[arberspin]

I’ve missed drawing sun…

Cursed Knight Au things… (thinking about doing another comic)

[nightfaeses]

as you wish, countess

[feketeribizli]

bite each others dick off now. now. now

[sanguineterrain]

a bloody vow | jason todd

Summary: After the racy encounter with your knight, you seem to lose all progress made in your relationship. You hardly talk, and you're lonelier than ever. But after a house break-in has you running to Jason for help, you're forced to face each other, blood and all.

Pairing: knight!Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings/tags: violence! Jason kills a man. reader and jason's house is broken into and the thief attacks the reader (but they're okay.) mentions of self-flagellation, religious guilt. reader feels very lonely without their big strong knight :( the eroticism of killing for another person. codependence. partial nudity. probably not the healthiest relationship but whatevs. Jason would do anything for them what more could you want?

the divider

Everything's changed since the morning that you found Jason with the whip.

He won't even eat with you anymore.

He accepts whatever you make and thanks you quietly, then eats his supper in the shed. He didn’t say much before—now you're lucky if you get more than a word from him.

He's also taken to punishing himself regularly. Jason does it far away, so he won't wake you. But you've seen his back and the welts peeking beneath his tunic and the spots of blood. You also see fresh injuries from his training, injuries that could be avoided if he was more careful. You've tried to offer him a salve to heal his back. He always refuses, flinching like a kicked dog if you get too close.

You fear that you'd pushed Jason too far that morning. You replay it in your mind, wondering what exactly had possessed you to act in such a vulgar manner. Exposing yourself to him like that after spying on him earlier—what were you thinking?

You weren't, is the truth. It seems all rational thought leaves your brain when you're around him.

It's truly like living with a ghost. Your feelings are jumbled, caught in a maelstrom of guilt and fear and desire. More than anything, you're unbearably lonely. You'd feared a harsh hand when you first were deposited into Jason's bed. You never imagined that there could be a worse fate than being wanted: being ignored.

So, it's been three weeks of this new routine. Jason has been disappearing at night to the pub. Not that he told you that—you know this because of the incessant gossip that flies around the market. It's not hard to decipher who the 'hulking knight' is when people stare at you.

You try not to think about what Jason gets up to. You really have no right to be angry if he finds someone to warm his bed. You're lucky he hasn't thrown you into the sea after your insolence.

Routine is all that keeps you sane. You do the washing and cooking without complaint. Jason still leaves you money to go to the market, and sometimes you save a couple of coins to buy books. You keep the books under a floorboard in your room. He never asks you for change.

You don't know if this routine will be enough, though. You wish Jason would just throw you out and be done with it. You're certainly not performing the duties that the king expected of you when he brought you here. Jason can hardly look at you, much less touch you.

You eat alone tonight. By the time you wash up and are ready for bed, it's late. Jason still isn't home.

Not unusual these days. You get into bed and blow out the candle. Maybe you won't wake in the morning. Then you'll both be free.

A crash jerks you out of slumber.

You're awake immediately, fumbling under your bed for the small dagger you'd secretly purchased when you first came.

Your first thought is that Jason came home drunk. But if he’s come home drunk in the past, you've never heard him, and it's always as quiet in the morning as it was the night before.

A chilling second thought hits you as the floor creaks outside your door.

Someone's broken in.

You quietly get to your feet, dagger in hand. If Jason were home, he would be here already, dealing with the problem. As it is, you're alone and completely vulnerable without your knight.

Your door splinters open. You stumble backwards.

"Wha' have we here?" A lantern shines in your face. "Look a' this. Pretty thing like you shouldn't be left alone."

You bolt for the front door.

“Oh, no no, you don’t.”

The intruder darts after you and stops you before you can open the door. He hauls you backwards and throws you against the dying fireplace. You land on your ribs and the wind is knocked out of you.

"Too big of a house for a little mouse like you,” the man says with a greasy sneer. 

You turn and lunge at him. You catch him off guard enough to stab his shoulder with the dagger. He howls in pain and shoves you off. Your head hits the wall, and for a moment, you fear you’ll vomit. But you don’t, so you stand.

"You bitch!" he shouts. "I'll fuckin' kill ya for that!"

That's all the motivation you need to run.

You’re aching all over, head pounding. Your legs are cold, being that you're only in a nightgown. You might be bleeding. But you keep running.

You run all the way into town, which feels like miles at this time of night, bruised as you are. It’s easy to find the pub, and it doesn’t even occur to you that you’re not allowed inside. All that’s on your mind is Jason. Find Jason.

You pound your fists on the door of the pub, crying.

"Jason, Jason!" you shout. “Help me, please! Please!”

The door opens. You stumble in, almost tripping on the uneven wood. Men stare at you as you enter.

"Jason!" you yell.

A knight you don't recognize stares down at you, blocking your path. You stumble back, grabbing the wall for support.

"Out," he snarls. 

"Please," you beg. "Please, I need my husb—"

He's shoved aside suddenly, ale sloshing over his mug. He growls in protest, but someone drags him away by the back of his tunic. 

Relief floods you at the familiar face who takes his place. Jason.

He's obviously shocked to see you here, eyes roving over you. His shirt is unbuttoned, a thin fresh cut on his cheek. He says your name. Every inhibition you’ve felt over the last month disappears.

"What—"

You throw yourself into his arms, weeping. Jason catches you, cradling the back of your head. You're surrounded by him, the rest of the world blocked out. He smells like the strong yellow soap you make in large chunks because it’s cheaper than purchasing it at the market. He smells like the home you share.

"What is it? Where do you hurt?" he asks quietly, shielding you from all the pairs of eyes. He rubs your back, bent over you. You cling to his neck, shaking with the memory of tonight.

"A man b-broke in," you say, and Jason's grip tightens. "He said–he said he w-would...k-kill…"

You trail off. Jason pets you, breathing even on your neck.

You know that you hardly have any rights, that the men here would sooner see you die than step into danger for you. Perhaps that includes Jason too. Perhaps it's too late. 

"I understand," Jason says into your ear. He doesn’t waver despite how you tremble. "It's alright. I won't let him hurt you again. I'm... I'm so sorry for leaving you alone."

He exhales, long and slow. You feel him begin to pull away. You panic, digging your nails into his arms. Jason quickly soothes you. He doesn’t chastise you for clawing him. 

"It’s alright. I'm going to handle this, and then we'll go home," he says. "Roy."

A redheaded knight approaches. You slowly turn your head. He smiles gently at you.

"Your Highness," he says, bowing deeply, and you feel a little lighter.

"Roy's going to take you home while I handle the thief," Jason says. "I promise that I'll be fast, alright?"

"You promise you won't leave?" you ask. “You’ll come home right away?”

Jason takes your hand, stroking your knuckles. "I swear. May God strike me down if I don't return."

“Oi, man, get your little harlot out of—”

Jason stands, rising and towering over the angry drunk. He’s immediately cowed under Jason’s gaze.

“Watch your mouth,” Jason says, even and deadly. The man leaves in a huff.

"I'm sorry for causing trouble," you whisper, cheeks still wet.

"You haven't," is all he says, before leading you outside.

You have an audience, which is absolutely humiliating, but neither Jason nor Roy pays them any mind, so you don’t either. 

Roy helps you onto his horse, and in the time that that takes, Jason is already headed back to the house by the time you and Roy start off. You realize then that you trust Jason. You've never met this Sir Roy in your life—Jason's never even mentioned having friends. But you trust that you will get home safely. 

“Jason won’t let him get away,” Roy says. You believe him.

The ride is short. You don’t know if you’ll manage to go back to sleep without Jason there, but the least you can do is host Roy, perhaps. You’re bone-tired, but you ought to be hospitable, shouldn’t you?

But as you get closer to the cottage, you hear voices in the woods. Jason’s horse is out front. You dismount without Roy's help and take off running. He calls after you. You ignore him.

You don't go through the house, not ready to face the destruction your intruder left in his wake. Instead, you go around and follow the stream into the woods. The voices get louder. When you get to the clearing by the shed, you stop.

The lantern has been knocked onto its side, flames flickering. But you can very clearly make out Jason in the dark. His shadow cuts a frightening figure that dances across the trees. Moonlight flickers through the canopy, illuminating him and the other figure. Your attacker.

Your attacker, who’s discovering that he picked the wrong house to rob.

Jason's got him pressed against a tree. Blood drips from the man's head and face. You stay a few yards away, behind a tree. The bark dully bites into your hand. You’re torn on whether you should make yourself known or not. Stop this or not.

"You touched them," Jason says, and does something with his sword that draws out a strangled groan from the attacker. The metal shines with fresh blood.

"I am worse than you," he continues. "I lost sight of my duty. My reason for living. Everything I do is for the star-crossed beauty my king captured for me. It's all I can do to pay penance for my sins. And you come into my house and dare to lay a hand on what is mine?"

The breath leaves you in a punch. You're cold with sweat, but something tugs at your gut. Something frightening. Something that tells you to stay hidden.

"I am worse," Jason says. "Because a good man would show you mercy and let you be hanged for your crimes."

"That fuckin' bitch deserved it," the intruder spits.

Here, Jason loses his composure. Here, he twists his sword.

"I will tear you apart," he says, voice a snarl.

And Jason does exactly that. It's bloody and gory. You feel sick a few times. You can't see everything in the fractured light, but you can hear it all. Bones crack, the man screams, but Jason doesn't relent. He drives his sword deeper and deeper. Blood gurgles from the attacker's mouth.

You watch on, feeling quite like you had the day you saw Jason fucking his fist.

The body drops with a thud as Jason lets him go. You imagine a sword slick with blood. You imagine Jason covered in it.

The realization is dizzying. You are an executioner, and Jason is your axe.

You don't know what you're more horrified by: the fact that it took you this long to look away or that you don't mind the stench of fresh blood.

Jason takes two steps and picks up the lantern. He sees you. He stops.

"He's dead," you say dumbly.

Jason swallows, face otherwise blank. "You... you were not meant to see that."

"I didn't." But you did.

He knows you did.

"Roy should've taken you inside," Jason says.

You can't understand why shame draws the lines of his shoulders. 

"I didn't want to go inside," you say. "Not without you."

Jason inhales sharply. Then he looks away. "I shouldn't have... I pray that you'll forgive me, but I understand if you don't."

Jason is covered in more than a little blood. Red spatters his cheek, though it looks black in the shadows.

He's slick with blood. You wonder if he'll bathe in the river. If you might help him.

You step forward. Jason is still. He watches you steadily as you approach.

You pull down the sleeve of your nightgown and reach for Jason's face. He flinches. You hush him.

"It's alright," you whisper.

He lets you touch his cheek. His eyelids flutter as you wipe the blood from his face. Then you hold his cheeks with both hands. Jason shudders.

"You can touch me," you say.

Immediately, Jason shakes his head, hands curling into fists at his side.

"No. I'm unclean. You shouldn’t touch me either, you’ll—you’re—”

"I don't mind." Your thumbs trace the contours of his face for a moment, feeling the hard line of his nose, the curve of his jaw, his full bottom lip. He lets you, eyes locked on yours.

Then, you pull up your nightgown, revealing your bare thighs, your underwear, your belly. Jason’s chest heaves. He immediately looks away. But you’re quick. You guide Jason's hand with your other hand. He stains your flesh with blood. You picture the sticky, bloody handprint he'll leave on your waist. That frightening feeling returns. 

Jason's hand is hot on your skin. He exhales shakily. 

"I'm sorry," he says again, cupping your waist. His fingers gently knead your skin as if he's testing if you're real. It tickles, but you don't move, fearing Jason will pull away at the slightest jerk.

"Don't sleep in the shed anymore," you say.

"Alright."

"Eat supper with me."

"Okay."

You draw Jason closer. Blood smears your clothed chest. His thighs warm your exposed legs. You will not let him punish himself in the morning. You will sleep on his chest if that’s what it takes. Only you are allowed to draw blood from him. 

"Are you mine?" you ask.

Jason's answer is instant.

"Yes."

[lunamonroeao3]

“I am your shield, I am your blade. Wherever you go, I will follow” - Ser Violet Lanes

Thank you so much to @cutesgirlart on Twitter for this STUNNING cover of Heavy is the Crown. I’m in awe 💕⚔️✨

[where-is-vivian]

Lily Evans Knight AU

bloody version right under ↓

the rest of the AU here !

[voidcat]

assigned knight!mithrun x royalty gn!reader – hcs and blurbs

a/n: this was supposed to be just some hcs but ended up as a 2.7k beast... nsfw content by the last third/half so minors do not interact ! and to clarify mc is one of the youngest of their family but age wise they're close to mithrun.

renowed hero mithrun, one of the big talents who fought bravely during the war. mithrun who is left broken afterwards, losing all his purposes, all his senses, the deaths he witnessed, the news he received. at the frontlines, he receives news of his brother and his beloved marrying– no longer his beloved now, is she? he feels something inside him break but has to ignore it all away. he was never meant for the throne, not when his brother is in such a state, unable to wield a sword, when there is war raging at all sides, when people need to be led and to be supported at the frontlines.

mithrun who resembles an empty shell now, unsure how to carry on from then on, until one of the kings he fought side by side invites him among their ranks, their kin. "let us be your new home, and you can spend the rest of your days at ease, come now, honorary knight mithrun of house karansil, the leading hero, finishing slash of this war." no reason to refuse, he simply accepts, he agrees to becoming one of king's younger kids' assigned knight. maybe another task like this, this need to watch and protect will give him a sense of purpose, an excuse to keep on living.

and here enters you, the young royal, so oblivious, so unknowing to all those happening around you, not a single care and isolated from the world, you spend your days at the castle, strolling gardens, sketching and reading whenever you can, make a face at the slightest topic of future and marriages. aware of the unstoppable future that awaits you, the fate no royal can escape– save for those who are unelligable, those who fall ill and die or those like mithrun, no longer a part of their own kingdom. the young royal and their knight joint at the hip soon enough, days and weeks pass, years come by and you two never seperate.

loyal knight mithrun who always walks by your side, tailing behind like a shadow and the young royal, they still call you, that walks without a care in the world; who helps him to stop and smell the flowers again, talk over red poppies and shed tears together in seclusion, sneak desserts from the kitchens and taste the sun on berries while taking shelter in the shadow of great oaks, whom he chases after literally and figuratively– he agreed to become a knight, because by default they live by a single purpose, but mithrun notices himself finding his purpose again in the shape of your smile. how your chest moves up and down at night, how you tense and whisper to yourself when plagued by night horrors.

loyal knight mithrun always found next to you, holding your hand when you climb down the stairs, wrapping an arm around and pulling you closer to him when you cannot sleep at night. your breathing a lullaby to his ears, and you a source of comfort to him, as much as he is to you. as goal oriented as he is, and with the war dulling his senses and entire being, he was in a way, the perfect knight, just a man crafted of his duty and nothing else. And with abilities like his, he could come to your aid in no time, carve out the eyes that look at you the wrong way.

Yet as you nurse him back to reality, intentionally or not, he finds anxiety and guilt eating at him with each passing day. The same acts you once performed, he feels himself unable to respond with the same nonchalance now. When you bring another berry to his lips for him to eat, he does his best to take it from your hands without his lips making contact with your fingertips. He does his best to look away when you lick off the excess nectar dripping from the peach you’ve just eaten, even just standing outside your door grows harder and harder, his keen sense of smell betraying him and his body.

You should be guilty too, for not noticing how you’re tormenting him.

Preparing for bath, you take off your clothes, let your private garments drop to the floor like it’s nothing. Stepping into the bathtub, taking your sweet time as you do so, leaning your head backwards and letting out a content sigh— “Mithrun!” You call up to him in a sudden, eyes wide open, “can I ask you something?”

In fear of words betraying him, he settles for a nod. Making a gesture with your hand reachimg out, you signal for him to come closer. Hand diving into his hair like always, stroking his face, his cheeks and over his eyes, “when was the last time you have taken a bath?” You ask, giving him a curious gaze.

As he tries battling for an answer to give you, because if he knows you, he knows what will come after this and he is unsure his poor heart can survive it. “Ah, usually at night when you’re—“ “stop lying, I know you wait by my side every night too.” You cut him off.

Bringing a finger to your lips, you pretend to think. “Oh, I know! There is plenty of space here, why don’t you take a bath with me? Maintaining appearances is important, it keeps you refreshed and ready for everything, no?”

When you stare at him with big, begging eyes, words laced with concern adn worry, and all of it just for him, he finds himself unable to move, until he catches sight of you trying to take his armor off and drag him into the water with you.

There is plenty of space for more than one person, but you stand glued to his side, your warm body pressed up against his, fingers in his hair massaging his scalp, your fingertips tracing over his old scars. Mithrun finds himself vulnerable to your touch, soft and laced with love, colder than the water, sending electric down his spine every time.

Your father, the king, dotes on you and always brags about his trusted knight Mithrun at banquets. Raising a glass in honor of the man who saved his life and protects the life of one of his treasures— not knowing the same man is guilty of growing an attachment to the said treasure. every time the king or an elder praises him for not just past accomplishments but for his current post, he feels guilt beginning to bloom and grow– the knight supposedly in charge of you, protecting and shielding you from bad eyes strrugles to stand by your side at night.

should you really be wearing a nightgown see-through and light, he wants to ask, with just a little breeze you'd catch a cold in no time, he tries to rationalize his thoughts; trying to wipe off the images, how the moon shines down on you, how the thin material sticks to your skin, presenting you before him. he feels the guilt toward you most of all, after everything he has lived through he has gained a bit of instincts and senses and yet he is still the same despicable man of the past; how he repays your kindness, your love and care– why, he remembers it like yesterday when you stroke his cheek and prosthetic eye, placed a kiss there and looked at him like he is still whole. as his affection for you grows, he wishes more and more to return to just the end of the war, when he was still hollow and indifferent toward you.

Mithrun realizes in many ways he is your first witness. First to see you get stung by bees, at which you asked for him to kiss it better, usually the first to see you getting sick, immediately calling in a medic to prepare for you a brew; first to cuddle you to sleep at nights, your head buried into his chest and your legs wrapped around his; first to guide you, first to help you explore the castle grounds, the city, banquets to come and even your body, at your request.

right outside your bedchambers one night, mithrun muses whether should he make a quick trip to his chambers. with the change of weather his usual armor and undergarment feel too thick. before he can teleport himself, muffled sounds of someone reaches his ears– out of breath and erratic, coming from no other direction than your chambers, the voice belonging only to you. frozen in place, he teleports himself into your room without a thought and finds himself nailed to his spot. the sight of you under the pale moonlight, a hand between your tighs, eyes closed shut and your face an expression he can only describe as 'pleasure'. mithrun has no clue for how long he stands there, stuck, feet glued to the floor, until you turn your head toward the door, eyes finding his and before he can see how you'll react, he teleports himself out– for hours he feels his beating frantic, threatening to burst out of his chest.

for the following days, he tries putting a distance between the two of you, replying with few words at most, avoiding your gaze, your touch like the plague. he can stand his guard only so long until he gives in, defeated by the sadness that takes over you after his sudden change of behavior. as if reading his mind, you do anything but drop the matter, eventually what he walked into coming to the surface as well. battling on the fields is easier, he thinks, there is only instincts, sharp and calculated moves, kill or be killed, conquer before you can be defeated– such is not the case outside war, and certainly not by your side, you always find a way to make things twice as difficult for him somehow. the scent of your body still haunts his senses and you have the courage to ask him what was going on with your body exactly!

you complain about all those people you see on castle grounds, exchanging gazes, holding hands, in the narrow hallways or the gardens, stealing kisses and using terms of endearment when conversing. not jealousy but yearning is apparent in your voice and he notices that much. it is not easy spending your whole life confined to a castle– even harder when you are a long life species, the hidden hallways remain a mystery only so long, few decades in and they lose all interest. "i couldn't sleep" you pout, "i was just lying down, must've thought myself in those scenes i often witness, and my hands were wandering around." your voice begins to drop with each word, "it was just trailing my fingers around until it felt... funny, and... ah... some sort of wetness, or so to speak." you finish shyly, turning your head away.

at your confession mithrun doesn't know how to react. such topics aren't exactly welcomed to be discussed so openly among your kind. burrowing his brows, he decides to take a simpler approach, from general to specific. "you see... our bodies have certain reactions reserved for certain situations." he does his best not to stammer over his words, does his absolute hardest to not make contact with those big, bright eyes of yours. "when we enter puberty, certain systems of ours go through changes to accomodate for new things we might experience in the future." one thing you have said bothers him though. "that was one of them. take that sensation you have described for example. it occurs so the act itself might take place easier and without causing discomfort for both sides." you seem to find his explanation helpful, judging from the smile slowly forming on your face. he can see the gears turning in your head, he hopes you reserve those new questions for the books you read.

"your highness, may i ask you something?" he blurts out, now or never. his formal way of addressing seems to catch you by surprise, he continues when seeing you nod. "if i won't be crossing any lines..." "there is no such thing as tha–" you say almost instinctively. "you said you were thinking, who was it?" he asks bluntly. "I..." your mouth opens and closes, head turned to the side, you cast your eyes downwards; he can see a blush creeping up. his ears pick up on you mumbling a 'no one' but he knows you are just deflecting now. if you are uncomfortable, he won't pry further. seeing him walk, you qucikly rush to his side, taking the arm he has offered you. "come now, what was it you said you wanted to do today? the greenhou–"

"could you lend me a helping hand actually!" you claim loudly in a sudden, fists clenched in excitement. "you know i would never refuse you as long as logi–" "i mean it, literally." you cut him off, emphasising on the word, and take his hand in yours, moving it in the air while giving him a determined look. considering the topic of conversation the two of you just had and now that... it doesn't take him long to connect two and two together. "a- absolutely not! i-" you will be the death of him, that's for sure. coughing few times, he tries gathering himself and catching breath. "your highness, acts such as the one you accidentally tried, are private matters. done by one's self or with a special one. you cannot just ask anyone that."

you bring your face closer to his, "i am not asking anyone, mithrun" you speak word by word, "i am asking you." the pronoun rolls off your lips like honey, poisoned. "when i say 'special', i mean a significant other, your highness." he adds the title at the end, already sounding defeated. you know exactly what he meant, why must you make things so difficult for him? "or a spouse, in our cases." he adds on, his gaze cast down, "though i doubt the same still applies for me." his voice comes out in a whisper, the unevitable future of an awaiting marriage haunts you both, and he wonders were he to return home, would he regain his title, be elligable for your hand after all.

in the end, he gives up. knight mithrun finds himself more vulnerable than before. lying in your bed, your body pressed against his with the both of you awake. bringing his hand to his lips, he licks his fingers and trails down your chest, your abdomen, down to your groin. feeling every crook, inch and curve of you, fingers moving smooth and slow, he drinks in your expressions, how your lips slightly part, pleasure taking over your entire body, how you grow wetter with each touch, each movement. he has to bring his other hand to your mouth at one point, it wouldn't be wise to have passerbys hear the sounds you make for him now. how you begin to whimper under his hand, small moans soon saying his name like a plea, 'more, more, more' you begin to chant– a symphony to his hears, he watches how your body begins to spasm in pleasure as you reach your high, coming all over his hand, making a mess.

bringing his hand to his lips, he licks his fingers, savoring your taste. with hazy eyes, you barely catch sight of him, your hand trying to make way to him. Mithrun sees your exhausted attemps and brings his cheek to your palm, the all-too-familiar gesture you grace him with on a daily basis; though rather than stroking, you try to pull him towards yourself. "oh? curious as to how you taste?"

the question leaves his mouth without a second thought, though you don't seem to register his words, too focused on his lips. giving his hand another, long lick; mithrun leans into you and for the first time his lips meet yours– your saliva mixing with his, your soft lips eagerly biting into him with wanton need, how that hand tries desperately to pull him even closer, you taste just as sweet everywhere, his taste buds decide. his lips meet yours once and does not let go ever, even when the two of you gasp for breath, oxygen loses all its purpose and though the thought should horrify him, he realizes and accepts easily: mithrun meets his demise at the mercy of you, far exceeding the point of no return.

[wyyrdplayy]

Some more doodles of my Griddlehark knight AU. Gideon would duel for Harrow's honor and Harrow would (secretly) love it and then they'd make out about it

See the rest here !