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taeyongdoyoung · 2 months ago

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poison

summary: tasting the king's meals for poison is a great honour to be bestowed on you. but poison is not the only thing you're interested in tasting... paring: king!haechan x maid!reader genre: royalty!au, romance, drama, smut warnings: reader has anxiety, food-tasting, mentions of poison, hierarchical system, rich guy/poor girl trope, shitty ex jaemin (sorry boo 💞), evil uncle trope, threats, mentions of blood, insecurities, crying, pet names, lots of kissing, inexperienced reader, lowkey corruption kink, fingering, handjob, cum-eating, loss of virginity, unprotected sex author's note: the plot is loosely inspired by some historical kdramas and the folk of the air trilogy 🥰 also, there are some references to nct songs in bold bc it's me, duh word count: 4.8k

Your life as a maid in the royal palace is pretty boring. You wake up, you prepare meals in the kitchen, you wash clothes, you clean rooms, you sneak a piece of stale bread if you find any (if you're lucky even some cheese), you go to sleep, repeat. Every day is the same. No drama, no adventure, nothing out of the ordinary. You don't like it but it's all you can do so you can send some money to your poor family.

That is until on one random day you are summoned to the king's chambers immediately, the other maids saying it is of utmost importance. You are panicking. Did you do something wrong? You try to attend to your duties with all the care and attention to detail possible. Will you be scolded or worse, punished, for some mistake you cannot place? You try to calm your rapidly beating heart, as you enter the king's room.

Looking down nervously, you bow deeply, not able to think of anything else to say, rather than mumbling a weak "Your Majesty".

"Relax, I'm not going to kill you," king Haechan says in his signature deep voice.

His words do little to ease your mind and your hands are still shaking.

"I've been told by my most trusted counsellor that I have many enemies and cases of poisoned aristocrats have been increasing. So, after discussing it in great detail, he advised me to look for a food taster. Someone I could count on not to betray me," the king explains.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, but w-why me?" you ask meekly.

"You know my counsellor Jaemin, don't you? I believe you two were once…intimate. He said you could definitely be trusted. And I trust him with my life, so…"

Your damn ex Jaemin…You can't tell if him recommending you to the king as a potential food taster is a compliment or a curse. After all, you could literally die from poison. But then again, what can you do? You can't exactly disobey the king's direct command. At the end of the day, he bestowed a great honour on you. Anyone else would be jumping with joy. Anyone else but you.

"Your Majesty, I'm not denying you, of course. It's just that…I'm the only source of income for my poor parents. I can't bear to think of them all on their own."

"You have my word. Should anything happen to you…your parents will be well taken care of," the king promises and there is so much compassion and sincerity in his voice, you have no choice but to believe him.

"Very well, then. I'll try all your meals before you," you vow solemnly.

"Splendid," the king claps his hands.

That is how your boring days at the royal palace come to an abrupt end. You try the first couple of meals anxiously and with little appetite. Your stomach hurts from nervousness and not because there is any poison in the food. As time goes by, the food-tasting process becomes second nature to you. Eventually, you convince yourself that the chances of actual poison are low and you begin to enjoy your daily interactions with the king.

"What do we have for lunch today, my sweetest treasure?" the king asks. You like how he addresses you. As if you are genuinely important to him. As if it would pain him if he lost you. It's a kind gesture to distract you from the reality of how replacable you are.

"Your favourite, Your Majesty. Kimchi jjigae," you respond politely.

"Yesss, it's gonna be a great day!" the king squeals happily like a little boy.

It is an unwelcome reminder of how young he actually is. Unwelcome because you cannot imagine how difficult it must be for him. Enemies lurking at every corner, having all this power and responsibilities…and no one to share them with.

After you try the kimchi jjigae and check its safety, the king begins eating excitedly.

"You know that not all poisons kick in immediately, right?" you know it's rude to interrupt him but you cannot help yourself. "There is still a chance that we both get poisoned but the symptoms appear later."

"I know, but…" the king sighs, his mouth still full. Once he finishes chewing, he finishes his sentence. "It's still a precaution. At least Jaemin seems to think so."

You roll your eyes at the mention of your ex.

"Did you not end things on good terms?" the king is curious.

"We just…had lots of differences. Jaemin, being from a higher social class, said that I was just a way to pass the time. That he didn't see any future for us…That he would never marry me."

"Ouch," the king keeps chewing his favourite food. "I mean, it's technically true you belong to different worlds, but he could have said it more nicely."

"Do you trust his judgement? I'm not talking about relationships. Just…on the topic of poisons and stuff," you need to know.

"I suppose. We've known each other for so long, it'd be silly not to trust him."

"May I make a suggestion?" you inquire. "I know I'm not as qualified as Jaemin, but it's still worth taking other people's opinions into consideration."

"Sure," the king shrugs. "What did you have in mind?"

"If there are so many cases of aristocrats being poisoned, why don't you try taking a little poison each day to build an immunity? I've heard this method is quite common in other kingdoms."

"Where did you learn that?" the king asks you suspiciously.

"I read it in a book somewhere."

"You can read? No offense."

"None taken. When I'm done with my maid duties, I sneak into the royal library sometimes. Don't tell the king," you joke.

"Your secret's safe with me," the king laughs.

Time passes in the same old way. Cleaning, cooking and food-tasting. Repeat. One evening, the king summons you again.

You are about to take a bite from the food before him when he unexpectedly grabs your wrist and stops you.

"I don't want you to do that anymore," he murmurs.

"What?"

"I've started taking a little poison each day to build an immunity, like you advised me to. So far, I've been doing alright. And…I just think it's unfair, alright? What if you actually die?" the king whispers, as if the thought is so unbearable to him he can't even say it. "I can't lose you. I…trust you too much."

He trusts you? The thought is so bizarre in a flattering way your heart hurts upon hearing his sincerity.

"Are you planning to find another food-taster, then?" the very question is painful to you. Despite the potential danger, you don't want to be replaced. You want to keep being his person.

The king shakes his head.

"No life is worth more than mine. I'm not doing that outdated thing anymore."

"Of course, your life is worth the most! You are the king!" you exclaim passionately, pulling the food towards you.

"You think I don't know that?" he whisper-shouts, taking the food once again. "You think I don't wake up each morning wishing things were different?"

What…what is he on about? Why would he wish he wasn't the king?

"I'm not sure I follow," you say quietly.

"It's fine. I don't understand myself. Just…don't tell anyone, okay? Not even Jaemin. Let everyone believe you're still tasting my food and come at the allotted times as usual."

The not even Jaemin part shocks you. Does he no longer trust him as he once did? What is going on?!

"As you wish, Your Majesty," you respond, not even thinking of disobeying him. As confusing as everything is, you need him to trust you. More than you've needed anything else in your life.

"Oh and…one more thing. You should call me Haechan. When we're alone, that is."

"Uhm, okay. Haechan?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" he tilts his head cutely.

"Nothing, just trying it out," you chuckle.

Haechan laughs warmly and starts eating calmly.

"I can't tell if you're brave or reckless," you tease him.

"Perhaps both," he shrugs.

One Monday, your worst fear comes true. As you are preparing Haechan's meal, you are faced with his uncle. You've never been a fan of him for some unknown reason, but now you know your suspicions were completely justified.

"Give me the meal," he orders and you are so terrified, you do as he asks.

He pulls a vial out of his pocket and pours it on top of the food nonchalantly, mixing it well with a spoon, so that it doesn't show.

"Say a word to the king and you parents are dead," he threatens.

"What do you know about my parents?" you ask boldly. Foolishly, even.

After Haechan's uncle says the names of your parents and the exact location of their home, you realize he isn't bluffing. What are you going to do?

As you enter Haechan's chambers, you realize you can't do it.

"Ooh, this looks delicious," Haechan is about to put the food into his mouth when you rudely push the spoon away from him, spilling the food all over the ground.

"It's super cold and totally unappetizing," you exclaim the first thing that comes to mind.

Haechan eyes you weirdly but doesn't scold you.

"Have this, instead," you pull a sweet pastry from your pocket, knowing it's safe.

Haechan shrugs, not caring about what he's given.

"So yummy," he smiles happily, not suspecting a thing.

If you tell him, your parents are dead. If you don't, he's dead. Sooner or later.

When his evil uncle questions you later, you lie through your teeth that the king wasn't hungry and tossed the food away in an angry fit. Miraculously, his uncle believes that.

Similar things happen throughout the week. On Tuesday, you eat the food meant for Haechan yourself, hoping that the self-poisoning you've been doing in secret with the help of your apothecary friend Renjun will be plenty of protection and that you'll survive this extra dose of poison. On Wednesday, you explain to Haechan that the food was made with old ingredients and give him a piece of bread and some cheese you've set aside. On Thursday, you once again make a mess and spill the meal, pretending it was a clumsy accident. On Friday, you tell Haechan that you saw a cockroach in the food. Very far-fetched but it somehow works?! On Saturday, you go as far as lying to Haechan that you were so hungry you ate his food in the corridor.

Not once does he question you or get angry. His evil uncle, however, is becoming more and more agitated.

On Sunday, the uncle has had enough of your failed attempts to poison the king. And he shows you something that makes your blood run cold.

Two chopped-off fingers that he claims belong to your parents.

"If you fail again, it'll be their entire hands next time. And then, their heads. Choose wisely," he threatens cruelly.

You seem to be at an impasse.

As you are once more left alone with Haechan, you debate what to do. You are running out of ideas. Haechan's spoon is approaching his mouth eagerly. After all, he's been eating nothing but bread and random snacks all week. Your mind goes blank. If he eats that, he'll surely die. If he doesn't, your parents might die. It's an impossible situation. But you are greedy. Greedy to save both his life and your parents'.

"Stop," you cry out.

Haechan's hand freezes mid-air. It's now or never.

"I have betrayed you, Your Majesty, please kill me," you drop to your knees desperately.

"I told you to call me Haechan," he rolls his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Your uncle has been trying to kill you," you blurt out. "He's been putting poison in your meals for the past week. I kept trying to come up with ridiculous reasons to prevent you from eating it but…he's been threatening my parents. Today he showed me two chopped-off fingers and said the next time I fail to poison you, it'll be their hands and the final time, their heads, but…I can't do this."

"Can't do what?" Haechan asks you to clarify.

"I can't poison you," you admit, eyes filled with tears. Even though your parents' lives are in grave danger, losing Haechan would hurt just as much.

"Could have just said that from the beginning instead of feeding me bread for a week," Haechan teases.

"You believe me?" you inquire nervously. Only now does the gravity of the situation strike you. What if he'd chosen to side with his uncle and executed you for treason?

"Jaemin's been warning me about my uncle plotting against me for a while now. I thought it was just his paranoia, but…I'm inclined to believe you and Jaemin."

"Over your own flesh and blood?" you are pleasantly surprised.

"Blood doesn't necessarily make you family," Haechan shrugs. "Okay, here's the plan. We'll sneak out of the palace and go find your parents. We'll make sure they go somewhere my uncle won't be able to find them."

You nod numbly, amazed at how quick he's thinking and finding a way out of this situation.

"Then, we'll return to the palace and make my uncle regret ever trying to mess with us."

"Us?" you repeat.

"Yeah, us," Haechan confirms. "We're in this together, no?"

"Hell yeah!" you reply, infected by his enthusiasm to find a solution.

Once you dress up with cloaks and daggers, Haechan leads you through a secret tunnel hidden behind the royal library that takes you both out of the palace.

"Don't tell anyone about this," Haechan whispers in your ear, his hand on your lower back, making you gasp for air.

"Who am I gonna tell? The king?" you joke to distract him from how affected you are by his gentle touch.

"Yeah, he should never know about this," Haechan chuckles in the dark and kisses you on the lips, taking you by surprise. You…he…what?!

You wrap your arms around his neck, desperate for the way he grounds you and makes you believe it will all be alright, you'll find a way out of this mess. Together.

He is the one to initiate the kiss but sadly, he is also the one to end it as abruptly as it started.

"As much as I'm enjoying the taste of your lips, we have to get to your parents and make sure they're okay."

"Right, right," you agree. He's more concerned about your parents than you, which speaks volumes about his noble character.

You resist the urge to swoon and try to focus on the task at hand.

Once you get to your parents' place, you are happily amazed to find all their fingers intact! That bastard was bluffing!~But the question remains…whose fingers were that?!

"You'll have to go to another town," you explain impatiently. "Haechan has some trusted friends who'll take you in."

"H-haechan?" your mom repeats in shock upon hearing you call the king by his first name.

"Uhh," you look to Haechan nervously for a way to explain. You know he told you to only call him that when it's the two of you but it just slipped so naturally…

"It's okay," he reassures you. "Your daughter has saved my life on multiple occasions. Making sure you two are fine is the least I could do."

"You are too kind, Your Majesty," your dad is even more stunned by Haechan's gentle demeanour.

"Just returning the favour. Your daughter's irreplaceable."

Oh. You wonder if he truly believes that or is simply trying to ease your parents' worries.

Soon enough, you parents are travelling to Haechan's friends and you and the king are riding back to the palace.

Immediately, he summons a court meeting and gives the order for his uncle to be brought to justice in front of all the aristocrats. His uncle is struggling to escape the guards' arms and screaming treason. But Jaemin's and your account of the uncle's actions are enough to convince the people of the truth. Eventually, other aristocrats start speaking up of suspicious things Haechan's uncle has done or said like threatening them or their family in an attempt to take the throne. In no time, the uncle is imprisoned.

"You should have just killed him," Jaemin tells Haechan quietly. "He would have done the same to you."

"I do things differently," Haechan replies. "If you were king, you'd understand."

Jaemin shrugs.

"Lucky for me, I'll never know what that's like."

Haechan rolls his eyes, trusting that his friend has no such ambitions and is happy with his life as a counsellor.

Even with the threat of Haechan's uncle behind bars, he still continues to take little doses of poison to build an immunity. You don't tell him but you do the same, carrying on with food-tasting his meals before him. You value your life, sure. But you value his more.

One random Tuesday, Haechan summons you to his chambers. But the hour does not indicate food-bringing activities. Just like the first time, you are overwhelmed by a strange sense of anxiety. Even though you've known him for so long and have been through so much together, it still unnerves you, being alone with him. You don't know if things would be different if he weren't king. Perhaps not. There is just something about Haechan that makes your knees tremble in the best way possible.

"You've asked to see me, Your Majesty?" you mumble.

"When will you get rid of that annoying habit? It's just me…Haechan," he reminds you needlessly.

"I know, but you're still the king."

"That sounds so detached," Haechan groans. "But I'm hoping what I have to say will convince you to only call my name. Not just when we're alone."

"What are you saying?" you're beyond confused.

"Marry me. Become the queen of my kingdom," he pleads, taking your hand in his.

"But…you can't," you whisper in shock, reminded of how adamant Jaemin was. And if the distance between your place in society and Jaemin's was big…then, the distance between your and Haechan's worlds seems far more insurmountable.

"I can," Haechan looks more determined than anything to do this.

"People will talk…They won't be happy."

"Fuck people," Haechan scoffs. "Will you have me or not?"

"Of course, I will, Haechan," you cry out. "You've shown me more kindness and understanding than anyone in my life."

"You do know I'll give you anything you desire?" Haechan speaks softly. "As long as you're by my side, as you have been so far."

"You do know I don't want anything, right? Even if you weren't king, I'd choose you in any universe."

"Are you serious?" Haechan smiles in disbelief, the idea so foreign to him.

"Of course I am," you insist. "Even if you were a poor bard singing in taverns."

"Hm. I do love singing," Haechan smirks and kisses you.

And gods, his lips are sweeter than any meal you've tasted and every poison you've consumed. You could never get enough.

Your wedding day finally arrives. Shockingly, people are more accepting of your union than you anticipated, because they take your food-taster position in consideration and how valiantly you exposed Haechan's evil uncle. Your parents, as well, are happy to see you and Haechan together.

However, there is one person who is against.

"Is that why you broke up with me? Aiming high, I see," Jaemin snickers rudely once you are out of Haechan's sight for a brief moment at the wedding afterparty.

"I broke up with you because you said I was just a way to pass the time and you see no future for us. If you think I'm with Haechan because of his crown, you're even more foolish than I thought," you scoff.

"Oh, really?" Jaemin raises his eyebrows. "So, you're saying if Haechan lost his title as king, you'd still be with him?"

"Yes, I would. But the fact you're even talking about that can be considered treason by some."

"You know I'm loyal to Haechan. But do you honestly think you're good enough for him? You could never satisfy him. He'll grow tired of you, you'll see. You're so fucking…cold," Jaemin hisses.

His words sting more than when he implied you were with Haechan because of his power. It is true that you are not experienced. Even though you were with Jaemin for a while, you two never…went all the way. You were perhaps far too romantic but you wanted to save it for your wedding night.

"Well, lucky for you, you'll never get to feel how warm I can be," you say with a self-assured smile. "Now, piss off and let me enjoy my wedding."

Jaemin rolls his eyes and seemingly has nothing else to say, leaving you alone.

Why did he have to say all that stuff? You know it's not entirely true, but it still sucks. Jaemin was the one who ended what you two had with his cruel words. It's just that you were the only one brave enough to finally call it quits. And you're glad you did. He may be bitter now but he'll eventually find someone better suited for his character. As for you…you were perfectly happy with Haechan. And you wouldn't let Jaemin ruin your special day.

Eventually, the guests started leaving one by one and it was time for your wedding night. To say you are nervous would be an understatement. Your hands are shaking more badly than the first time you were summoned to Haechan's chambers. You are aware that he's a good person who will treat you right…but he's still your king and that fact is intimidating enough to make you tremble with anticipation.

"Good evening, my lovely wife," Haechan enters your (gods, this is insane) now shared room.

Your mind completely blanks and you have no idea what to say. So, you just start crying.

Haechan immediately rushes to you, embracing you and kneeling next to you.

"What's wrong? What did I do?"

"N-nothing," you manage. "It's not your f-fault."

"What is it?" he asks again. "Did Jaemin say anything?"

"How did you know?" you blink furiously to clear your vision from the tears.

"He's not over you yet, is he? It's obvious from the way he looks at you. And me. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's still as objective as he can be when giving me advice, but…he sometimes stares at me as if I stole his dinner. Not that you're dinner. You're obviously much more important than that and uh…I really should stop talking, shouldn't I?"

You laugh, pleasantly distracted by his ramblings.

"You're good. And he did say some stuff implying I was a gold digger, but…frankly, I don't care about his opinion."

"I'm gonna kill him," Haechan gets up but you are quick enough to grab his wrist.

"No, please, stay. Let him think what he wishes. I only care about what your opinion of me."

"Darling, I am perfectly confident you did not marry me because of my title."

"I know. I'm not talking about that. I mean…I'm just nervous I won't be able to please you. I've never done this before," you explain nervously.

"You and Jaemin never…?" Haechan waves his hand in the air meaningfully.

"I wanted to wait till my wedding night. So, um, here we are, I guess."

"Oh, my angel," Haechan places a hand on your cheek. "You don't have to worry about that. Just, relax, and let me take care of you."

"No, no. Teach me. I'll do anything you say, just…guide me, please?" you plead him, looking up at him, your eyes still moist with tears.

"Okay," Haechan agrees easily. "Take off your clothes."

You gulp anxiously and start unbuttoning your wedding dress. Why is it so hard? Why are there so many freaking buttons?

"Gods, you're trembling," Haechan points out the obvious and his impatience takes over. He removes your hands from your dress and finishes the remaining buttons himself. You are grateful for his help, but you still feel like a total failure for not being able to complete one simple task.

"I'm s-sorry," you pout.

"Don't apologize," Haechan shakes his head. "Can I touch you?"

You nod and he caresses you with his pretty fingers. It feels so sticky and weird but…weird good. Definitely good.

"You're so cute, you know that?"

"N-no, stop," you disagree, chuckling.

"Stop what? Stop doing this?" Haechan teases you but continues his motions, because he sees how much you're enjoying it.

"Stop calling me cute," you elaborate.

"You're so not cute," Haechan obliges jokingly. "That was a lie, by the way."

You laugh again, not just because of his words, but because the things he's doing with his hands make you feel so amazing you can't hold it in.

"You like that, my pretty wife? You like being touched by your husband?" Haechan talks you through it.

"Yes! So much! You have no idea!" you scream as you fall apart under him.

"I think I do," he smirks proudly and lets you ride it out. Then, he takes his fingers out…and licks them clean. Your eyes widen in shock. You've never imagined such a sight possible. The king of the country just did…THAT to you. And against all reason, you're still breathing.

"Show me how to do this to you," you beg, wanting to make him feel as good as you.

"It won't be the same," Haechan giggles. "But I'll give the best of me."

He takes off his clothes hurriedly, extremely excited to teach you everything he knows. You are amazed to see him in his full glory. His golden skin radiates in the dimlit room.

"You look incredible," you gasp.

Haechan tilts his head to the side, his cheeks turning red.

"May I touch you?" you ask reverently, still in awe of his sun-like beauty.

"We're married. Of course you can," Haechan reminds you sweetly and guides your hand, showing you all the way he likes to be touched, telling you what feels good and what doesn't (though everything you do feels good for him but he won't tell you just yet).

You do your best to follow his instructions and soon enough become bold enough to start experimenting yourself. He is enjoying it judging by the expressions on his heavenly pretty face.

"You're so hard. Isn't it uncomfortable?" you inquire, genuinely curious.

"It kinda is. But it's also a good thing. It means I'm really into you."

"The way when you touch me and I'm drippin' and it's kinda strange but also feels nice?" you try to explain the logic in your own terms.

"Exactly that way. You're a quick study," Haechan praises you.

"I just have a very good teacher," you compliment him in return and kiss him deeply, your hand still stroking him.

Soon enough, his release comes and you marvel at how much of it there is. You gather some of it with your finger and lick it, just like he had done with you.

"Fuck. You don't have to do that," Haechan moans.

"But you did it? Isn't it okay?" you blink innocently.

"It's not that it isn't okay. Just saying, you don't have to. I bet it tastes weird."

"No, it's not weird," you shake your head adamantly. "I mean, it's you, so I think it tastes sweet."

"Better than poison?" Haechan teases.

"Definitely better," you agree without thinking.

"I know you've been tasting my meals even when I told you to stop," Haechan blurts out all of a sudden.

"You knew?" you whisper in shock.

"I felt so bad but I didn't mention it because I knew no matter what I said, you'd keep doing it."

"You thought correctly," you sigh. "But you don't have to feel bad. I'm also taking little doses of poison each day, so I'll be fine. We'll both be fine, I'll make sure of it."

Haechan kisses you again, gripping your hair firmly, but gently at the same time.

"Remind me again what did I do to deserve you?"

"Did the Sun ever do anything but shine to make the Earth revolve around it?" you smile fondly.

"You're saying I'm your Sun?" Haechan presses his forehead against yours.

"Provided I'm your Earth," you respond.

"Well, did you know the fate of the Earth is to be consumed by the Sun?" Haechan informs you with a sweet voice but sombre expression.

"Consume me, then," you gladly consent and he slides inside of you all too smoothly.

Earth and Sun, moving together as one. Two entirely different worlds and yet…you belong with each other.

"You're too sweet for me," you murmur, chasing his lips once more.

"You've had too much poison your taste buds are off," Haechan jests.

"Maybe so," you grin. "I should probably drink more of you as an antidote."

"I'm counting on it, my beloved wife."

The End

#nct #haechan #nct smut #haechan smut #nct dream smut #lee donghyuck smut #nct 127 smut #haechan x reader #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #haechan hard thoughts #haechan hard hours #nct imagines #haechan imagines #writing #haechan angst #nct angst

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msbigredmachine · 2 months ago

Text

Handsy (Roman Reigns)

When the OTC asks for help and you oblige him, he’s very happy to return the favor.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Shy!Black fem OC

Warnings: Smut, fluff, possessiveness...the usual, lol

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: This is the first of a number of "Possessive" one shots lined up. Hope you enjoy them. Looking forward to all your amazing feedback! 😁

Song inspos are below:

A work of art. You could stare at him all day.

Sure, you came off like a voyeur sometimes, but the view was too glorious to pass up. Observing (not stalking) him from his little designated space next to a couple of equipment crates in the bowels of the arena. Working with the wrestlers as Talent Assistant entailed long hours and not-so-glamorous moments, but it was all worth it simply because you got to see the Roman Reigns up close and personal.

You always had a front row seat to the occasion, being in charge of his itinerary, and that included his wardrobe. Bringing over his ring gear, new Bloodline merch or a tech fleece for him to wear before slinking away to allow him some privacy. Yet tonight was different as this was his first match back in months and you couldn’t help but hang back, keen to witness his majesty up front, keen to see him in action again.

Just see him.

“You gon’ stand there and watch me all night, pretty girl?”

The rumble of his deep voice startled you out of your daydream. The big man himself was inching towards you, his hair down and damp, his rippling muscles and the intricate tribal tattoos gleaming beneath the backstage lights. His black cargo pants were tucked into his red and black boots and he looked ready for war, the ensemble somehow magnifying the power of the man. The Adonis. The…god.

Shaking your head sharply, you fidgeted with your horn rimmed glasses as you struggled to regain your bearings. “I’m…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. Umm…are your gloves okay? I made sure to get the specs right.” It was almost suffocating to be in his presence at times.

“They’re fine.” His gaze bored into you, a knowing smirk tugging his lips as he put them on, the long digits of his fingers wiggling and teasing. You had to tear your eyes away as you imagined just what those fingers could do and where you wanted them...

You recalled the earlier days when he would address you only in passing, inquiring about an assignment or a quick update on something you were working on…the butterflies fluttering in your stomach whenever he spoke to you. Ever perceptive, Roman picked up on your nervousness and went out of his way to flirt with you while somehow maintaining the utmost professionalism. It was like he knew you were crushing on him and was rubbing it in your face. As familiarity grew, the tone of your interactions began to shift. Friendlier, lighter exchanges as you got used to him and his natural charisma.

Then, the nicknames started trickling in. Pretty girl. Sweetheart. Beautiful. You could feel your walls—literally and figuratively—crumbling, and it always took an insurmountable effort to build them back up. His six-month hiatus was a reprieve of sorts as you tried to sort out your feelings for him in his absence. Yet, said absence made your heart grow fonder. You thought about him every day and you wondered, quite unwisely, if he thought about you too.

“Like what you see, baby girl?”

The new nickname forced you back down to earth, and it was then you saw he was now standing right in front of you. Bringing your gaze level with his broad, glistening chest. Fuck. “Umm...Sorry, what did you say?”

“I was asking if you could help me out with this.”

Glancing down at the hand he extended, your eyes widened. A bottle of baby oil was in his grasp. You raised your eyebrow, defying the terror that surged through you at the mere thought of putting your hands on his body. “Isn’t that the trainer’s job?” you asked as nonchalantly as possible.

“It is. But tonight, I prefer a more…gentle touch,” Roman suggested, chuckling at your wary expression. “You’re so innocent. It’s cute. But don’t worry, I won’t bite,” he winked.

He was enjoying this; enjoying the reaction he was evoking from you and taking pleasure in messing with your sanity. But your mama didn’t raise no punk bitch. You were strong. You could do this without spontaneously combusting.

Taking the bottle from him, you slowly applied some oil to your hands and rubbed your palms together to warm it up. Moving behind him, you started with his shoulders and with gentle pressure ran your hands along his neck, down his back, rubbing in rhythmic strokes along his spine. Your fingers gently massaged the honed, taut muscles, easing out any tension you could feel there. As you moved to his lower back, you winced when your hands accidentally slipped down his pants, grazing his backside. "Shit. I’m-I’m sorry," you rushed, grateful that he couldn’t see you.

"You’re fine. Keep goin’," he said with gritted teeth, his tone significantly deeper. Rougher. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, a nervous cough escaping your throat as you squeezed some more oil onto your palms. “Turn around,” you instructed him, your voice surprisingly steady despite your shot nerves. As your hands glided up his chest, you did your best to focus on your task and avoid any other mistake. You oiled up his arms and his abs, ignoring the tiny little sounds you could hear in the back of his throat, ignoring his burning gaze on you.

"Your hands are like magic, sweetheart," Roman murmured appreciatively, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. You felt your breath hitch as your fingers worked over the tension in his hard muscles, each touch leaving you more breathless than the last. Despite the storm of emotions building inside you, you managed to finish with steady hands.

“All done,” you said softly, stepping back to create some much-needed distance.

“You did great. Thanks.”

His praise made your heart swell with a mix of pride and something more dangerous. “You’re welcome,” you replied, your voice quieter as your gaze lingered on him. “Your tattoos are beautiful… your skin is beautiful.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, emboldened by the intimacy of the moment.

Roman’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Kissed by the sun, I’ve been told. Though I wouldn’t mind being kissed by someone else…” His hand reached out, his thumb brushing lightly across your bottom lip, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the gentle contact, your mind reeling. “Roman, we… we can’t,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, betraying the internal conflict raging within you.

“Why not?” His tone was calm but insistent, his dark eyes searching yours. “We both know there’s something here. I feel it, and I know you do too.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. If only it were that simple. “Because… we’re at work,” you replied, trying to summon a rational argument despite your racing heart. “We shouldn’t…fraternize. And…” You hesitated again, your voice faltering as the words hung in the air. “I might have a man…”

The rebuttal that accompanied his snicker was smooth as silk. “And he still won’t be a fraction of the man I am. Besides, I know for a fact that you don’t have a man.” His haughty stare remained on you. “One thing I always do, baby, is my research on things I’m interested in.”

Was there a counter for that? You weren't sure. And even if there was, it would have been hard to find with the way he was staring you down, his head cocked to the side, tongue darting salaciously over his bottom lip. Goodness…

“Let me return the favor,” he said.

Oh fuck. You played dumb. “What?”

“I enjoyed your massage. A lot. It’s only fair I give you one too. Not here, though. After the show, somewhere more private. You got a ride to the next town?”

You shook your head. “Well, not yet, but I was going to ask Jade and Bianca if I could-”

“Scrap it. You’re coming with me,” he cut you off. “I got somewhere much more comfortable than some itty-bitty car.”

Jade never went in ‘itty-bitty cars’, but you were sure Roman wasn’t trying to hear it. The moment stretched out, a lifetime of tension and unsaid words. You’d been on his bus once, and not unaccompanied. This would be wayyyy different.

Roman closed the last of the space between you, and pulled you into his chest. Big and rock solid and tempting. All of him. Including the bulge that pressed against your lower belly that made you lightheaded. His hand came up to gently cradle the side of your face.

“I’ll be good. I promise.” His thumb brushed your cheek, and you wanted to hate how your skin tingled beneath his touch, how easily your resolve crumbled. You really did.

But right now, there was nothing in the world that you wanted more.

“Okay…”

------------------------

Roman’s hands were a wonderful contradiction: strong yet surprisingly soft, their warmth matching the cozy temperature of his bedroom on the bus. The electricity of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you hated how easily you succumbed to it. You wanted to resent the ease with which he disarmed you, your body surrendering before your mind could catch up—but the truth was, you didn’t care. Not in this moment.

The soft glow of scented candles illuminated the space, their aroma blending with the soothing notes of Force MD’s 'Tender Love'. The old-school melody was a familiar comfort, a gentle background to the scene unfolding. Draped in nothing but your panties on his plush king bed, you felt utterly exposed yet oddly safe. Roman's promise to help you relax was fulfilled tenfold as his skilled hands worked magic with warm essential oils, massaging away every ounce of your tension.

You struggled to stay still as his hands ventured lower, his palms kneading the soft, plump skin of your butt with deliberate care. The sensation set your skin aflame, and despite your best efforts, a quiet, unbidden moan escaped your lips. He chuckled at this, his touch remaining gentle yet commanding as he boldly gripped both cheeks and wiggled them together, the waves making him groan his approval under his breath. As he turned you on your back, your eyes met, the flicker of heat in his gaze unmistakable. For a brief moment, embarrassment threatened to creep in, but the desire surging through you washed it away.

Taking charge, you pulled his head down to brush your lips together—tentative at first, testing the waters, but quickly growing more certain. The kiss deepened, melting away any hesitation that had lingered between you. His taste, the warmth of his lips, and the press of his oil-slicked hands against your skin were overwhelming.

As his fingers skimmed the underside of your breasts, a shiver ran through you. Instinctively, your hands found their way to his broad back, pulling him closer, earning a soft, breathy groan from him. The sound sent a thrill through you, a small grin playing on your lips. But the grin quickly dissolved into a moan as his mouth found your nipple, igniting sensations that left you breathless.

“So soft,” Roman murmured, his lips teasing the sensitive peak. The gentle suckles along with the firm kneading of your breast left you trembling in his confident grasp. He released your nipple with a wet, audible pop, trailing kisses down your body with a reverence that made you feel worshiped.

His fingers traced a path along your skin, their touch featherlight but insistent, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached your thighs, his mouth followed suit, pressing kisses to the tender flesh. You flinched when his teeth grazed the sensitive spot near your core, a teasing bite that made you gasp. Every nerve in your body hummed with anticipation, leaving no room for second-guessing. All that mattered was him, and the way his touch unraveled you so completely.

“Roman…”

“Hmm, baby? Should I stop?”

The mere thought of him bringing this divine pleasure to a halt brought tears to your eyes. “N-no.”

“I know you don’t want me to. It feels good.” Sitting back on his heels, he peeled your thong down your legs, tossing it into his open suitcase landing among his clothes. Something told you you would never get it back. “I’ve been waiting on this since I first laid eyes on you…I think about you a lot, ya know…”

You bit your lip, shaken by the electricity that crackled at his words, at the rush of this erotic moment. There was definitely no turning back now, and you could only look on as he wrapped his arms around your thighs and buried his face between them. A startled moan burst from you, clutching his hair to steady yourself as his tongue caressed your flesh. Long, fat and warm, it lashed around and around inside you, his lips pulling and sucking, the sloppy slurps filling the room with your gasps and moans pitching higher.

“Oh, damn…” you whined, attempting to regain the upper hand in this trap you ensnared yourself in. “You said…you said you’d be good…”

Roman’s eyes flitted to yours, wide with feigned innocence. “Oh, I’m not? Lemme try this then…”

By the time you realized what he was talking about, you were too late. “Wait! That’s not what I mea-…Ohhhh!” He had spread your thighs wider, French-kissing your folds with those soft lips, his expansive mouth widening to lick you all up. His head moved up and down, his strong jaw working every inch and every crevice. Heat bloomed through your body, making your lower half squirm and twist from sensations you’d only read about in erotic novels. "Shit...."

"You like that, baby? Like me eating this pretty ass pussy?" Roman hummed against your core, his voice knowing and arrogant.

You would have given an articulate answer if you could think straight, but right now moans and whines and whimpers were the only languages you could speak. You felt your pussy pulse on his tongue as he made you feel high, your arms sprawled out on the bed as your orgasm and your body temperature climbed until you felt like you were overdosing from pleasure.

“You taste incredible, baby. I want you to come in my mouth.”

His commanding voice, his moans against your pussy, the rapid speed of his licks, had your eyes watering. Your body couldn't control itself as it detonated, releasing inside his mouth, his triumphant moan vibrating against the sensitive bundle of nerves causing you to groan out loud again as he caught your nut effortlessly with long, lazy laps of his tongue, licking you up until you were all emptied out.

"Oh my god..." you gasped, your eyelids fluttering from the shock of such a powerful climax. "You made me come so hard," you breathed, collapsing on the pillow.

Releasing your thighs, Roman wiped his mouth, his chest glazed with oil and beard gleaming with your juices. “Pretty pussy that tastes this good? I’m in trouble, baby,” he sighed happily, like he’d just feasted on the most delicious gourmet meal.

You could feel the tension kick into high gear, knowing full well what was coming next. You shifted nervously, your hands fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.

Ever attentive, Roman noticed your change in demeanor. "You good?" he asked, his voice low and soothing, searching your eyes with a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering away to avoid the weight of his. "Sorry I'm just...a little nervous," you admitted.

His head tilted curiously as he gave you a long, pensive look, a hint of amusement in them. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“No.” Your cheeks burned, yet, feeling obligated to elaborate, you pressed on. “But…I’ve only ever done it once. In college. It was…alright.” The less said about that, the better. He definitely didn’t make her come this hard with just his mouth.

Roman’s brow lifted slightly, his smile morphing into something wicked and possessive. “Once? Only once?” He kissed his teeth, the sound reverberating through your body. His hand slid up your thigh, fingers tracing lazy circles on your over-sensitized skin as he reached inside the bedside drawer. “Baby girl, I’m ‘bout to ruin you for anyone else.”

The confidence in his voice was intoxicating, and yet there was no arrogance - just a fact that he could and would do exactly what he said he could do. You couldn’t take your eyes off him as he tossed the condom on the bed in front of him, eyes widening as he slowly shed his boxers like it was some kind of grand unveiling, and boy, was it a spectacle.

You gasped softly when you finally saw him, too long and too thick, rising menacingly from a neatly trimmed nest of dark silky curls. “I…oh my…”

Roman chuckled darkly at your stunned expression, rolling the Trojan down his length. "Don't panic, baby girl. I'ma make it all fit."

His mouth found yours again as his hands slung your thighs around his waist. The movement brushed his wide thick tip against your core, and your head tilted back as he nuzzled the groove of your neck, placing a wet kiss there.

“Roman,” you gasped, trying to summon some kind of resistance. But he silenced you again with another kiss, his voice low and commanding.

“Stop overthinking, I can feel you tensing up,” he murmured, “Just feel me. Feel us.”

And you did. His touch, his kiss, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world—it consumed you.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice rough with desire.

You nodded, breathless.

“Then stop worrying,” he said, “Because right now, I’m only thinking about one thing. You. And how good you feel.” He shifted closer, slowly pushing his thick dick inside you. His arms and chest flexed around you, the tendons and muscles rippling and dancing as you reflexively lifted your hips against his, sliding him deeper into you, the initial discomfort of his thick length gradually easing away.

“Shiiit…”

“I got you,” he assured you, hissing at the feel of your pussy fluttering around his length as it reached your hilt. “Damn, baby, you sure you’re not a virgin?”

“No…you’re just…big,” you pointed out matter-of-factly.

He smiled wide at that, and then moved in earnest, hitting hard and deep, his sheer power and his pulsing heat ramping up the pleasure ravaging your body and compelling you to hide your face in his shoulder to muffle your moans.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered soothingly, kissing you softly, growling in your ear, “I can feel you, all tight and dripping. Fuckin’ incredible.” Grabbing your right leg and hooking it over his shoulder, he powered deeper inside of you, glancing down at his long, thick shaft spreading you wide. You had a clear view of that big-ass dick plunging into you, making you feel every single inch. Each time he slid in deep, your pussy made this crude, squelching sound while squeezing him, causing your head to rock back into the pillow with a loud moan. “Aww, fuck, Roman…”

Roman’s hand found your chin and steered your face back to him, his sturdy grip enough to make your heart pound in tune with his pounding strokes. “You’re mine now,” he murmured, kissing you again, whispering against your mouth, “Anytime I want it, anywhere, you give it to me, you understand me?”

“Yes,” you managed, drunk on the myriad of sensations he was literally fucking into you. It hurt too good, maybe too much, his big dick seemingly rearranging your insides, forcing you to push at his abs to make him slow down. But Roman wasn’t having it, gently grabbing your neck to pin you down, fucking his dick into you until tears sprang to your eyes. He turned your body sideways, trapping your lower leg between both of his and holding the other one down before burying himself back inside your heat. Slipping inside you was much easier now, that pussy was leaking. Gleefully, he watched your ass cheeks ripple against his strong pelvis every time it smacked against you, the sounds of your wet pussy permeating the air.

“I wanna feel you nut on this dick…let go, baby, come for me,” Roman said, his voice a command and a plea in one sexy package.

“Unnnh my god…” Your eyes rolled in the back of your head feeling him switch it up by winding his hips, his dick in the back of your pussy, dragging throaty, high-pitched noises out of you. Waves of sinful, primal heat bloomed into an explosion that had you cursing to the heavens and shaking beneath him. You never knew you could experience such indescribable ecstasy. This was Heaven, it had to be, to feel this euphoric, this rapturous. Or maybe it was just Roman Reigns and the magic he clearly possessed, plunging you headlong under his spell.

Roman watched you undulate with a cocky, borderline evil smile, licking his lips as he reached for your breast, squeezing and kneading in his palm. "Mmm, that’s my good girl, you look so beautiful, baby…So fuckin’ good." He didn't stop, didn't slow down, clutching handfuls of your soft ass as he stroked in and out of you with increasing aggression. “Gimme another one, baby, come on,” he ordered, smacking your ass, a husky groan and curse emitting from him as right on cue, your walls clamped around him yet again, as you squealed and shook and squirted on his dick, gushing all over his sheets.

“That’s it, that’s exactly what I wanted…” He bit his bottom lip, his hands braced on your thigh and ass like an anchor as he felt his control start to slip. “Fuck…Where you want my cum, babe? In you or on you?”

You clung to the pillow for dear life, moaning weakly as his thrusts became messier and choppier, making it difficult to think straight. “On…on me,” you whimpered.

Your pussy throbbed and quivered around his dick, the sensory assault shattering the OTC into a thousand shards. Guttural groans spilled from his lips as he pulled out with a harsh grunt, ripping the condom off. You shivered as you watched him stroke endless ropes of his seed on your ass, the milkiness contrasting almost beautifully with your rich melanin skin. The sight should probably have repelled you, but never have you been more turned on. Roman kept his pulsing member pinned between your bodies as he dipped down to kiss you, your heavy breaths evening out as you lapped and sucked on each other’s mouths.

“Hol’ on, let me rub my cum all over you,” he said, pulling back to let his large hands smear his sticky mess all over your ass cheeks, massaging you just like he did earlier. The care and gentleness in his caresses mixed with the nastiness of the act was shockingly arousing to you.

“Mm-hmm. Witcho sexy ass,” he smiled at his handiwork and finished with a light smack of your ass. He lay down beside you and gathered you in his arms, his body warm and solid against yours.

“You okay?” His voice was a soothing rumble, a contrast to the intensity of moments before. "Was it too much?"

“Not at all. It was...amazing,” you admitted, your head resting on his chest as his heartbeat thudded steadily against your ear. “This feels really nice.”

He tilted his head, gazing down at you. “What does?”

“You, holding me like this.” Your voice was soft, almost shy. “You're cuddlier than you look.” The words spilled out before you could stop them, and you quickly glanced up, worried he might take them the wrong way.

But instead, his lips curved into a small, teasing smile, and he kissed your forehead tenderly. “Cuddly, huh?” His hand brushed over your back, grounding and protective. “Guess I’ll take that.”

Your cheeks warmed, but before you could reply, his voice dropped, rich and husky, sending a shiver through you. “Get some sleep, baby. I ain’t done with you yet.” His lips pressed to yours as he added, his tone full of wicked promise, “I’m gonna wake your pretty ass up and fuck you all over again.”

------------------------

It was probably the quietest you’d ever gotten dressed up. Not wanting to risk making any noise, you skipped showering, choosing to wipe yourself down instead pending when you got to the arena. One quick peek into the bedroom showed Roman was still fast asleep. Good. All the better to make your escape.

Gathering your belongings, you crept to the front of the bus. The driver was kind enough to tell you the name of the town you were currently in. It was still a couple of hours to your destination, but you hoped to find a rental car service, or a bus, maybe a Lyft if you could. Anything to make sure you were out of Roman Reigns’ hair before he woke up and discarded you himself and acted like last night never happened.

It was going to be extremely difficult to forget though…to get over the feeling of his big, strong, talented hands on you, using your body all night, that skillful tongue of his that made your eyes water…his big ass di-…

Yeah. Your mental well-being and productivity levels advised strongly against dwelling on that part of him.

You also couldn’t deny how beautiful it all was. His care and attentiveness, making sure you were feeling as good as he was…The softness in his pretty eyes as he took you again and again…Okay, perhaps you were overthinking the emotions. Even you were not that naïve to believe you were the only woman he’d been intimate with on this bus, in that same bed. Said and done the same things to them. You were not that special. The last thing you wanted was to be embarrassed for looking for what wasn’t there, and, as you checked your watch for the time, for overstaying your welcome.

“Any particular reason you’re sneakin’ outta here?"

His deep voice cut through the stillness, sharp and commanding, freezing you mid-step. You spun around, your pulse skyrocketing as your eyes landed on him. Standing at the other end of the bus, he looked like something out of a dream—or maybe a very specific kind of nightmare. Broad shoulders. Sculpted chest. Marble-hewn muscles. That towel slung low on his hips, hinting at more than you dared to look at directly.

You swallowed hard, the words getting stuck in your throat before you managed, "I didn’t want things to be awkward."

"Awkward?" he repeated, advancing toward you like a predator closing in on its prey. "You think you can just walk away from me after the night we had and call it awkward?"

He loomed over you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. The scent of him—whiffs of cologne and sweat and massage oil—wrapped around you, reigniting every memory of what had transpired hours earlier.

"I know what this was," you said, trying to sound confident even as your voice wavered. "It was just a one-night stand. I’m not expecting anything else."

A grin spread across his face, slow and taunting. "Is that what you think?" The towel shifted slightly as he leaned closer. "You’re mine now, baby girl. I made that real clear last night. Or did I not do enough to convince you?"

Your breath hitched as heat crawled up your neck. He wasn’t just talking about his words. No, your body still remembered each and every way he’d claimed you, left you gasping and begging and sore down there. And now here he was, making it clear he wasn’t letting you go so easily.

"I—I thought..." you stammered, your bravado faltering under his intense gaze.

"Thought what? That I don’t mean what I say?" His hand slid to your waist, the warmth of his palm seeping through your thin shirt. "Baby, when I say you’re mine, I mean that shit. When I want something, I get it. And I want you."

Your heart stuttered at the unexpected softness in his voice. This was Roman Reigns, the stoic, untouchable force of nature you worked for. And yet, here he was, looking at you as though you were the most important thing in the world. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hide the way your fingers trembled.

“Roman, I can’t—I can’t lose this job,” you reached for another excuse. “I worked too hard to get here. People already talk, and now this? It’ll only make things worse.”

Your verbal monologue was stopped by his hand cupping your chin, tilting your face so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. They burned with a quiet intensity, unshakable.

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and steady, the kind of tone that silenced crowds in an instant. “I’m the face of WWE. You think anyone will come for you without dealing with me first? You think I’d let them? That’s not how this works.” He cupped your cheek, the gesture soothing, even as his words made your pulse race. “I protect what’s mine. Always.”

Your breath hitched, the conviction in his voice making it impossible to look away. Still, doubt clawed at you. “But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs’,” he interrupted firmly, but not unkindly. “You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone. You’re here because you’re damn good at what you do. And as long as I’m breathing, no one’s touching you. Not for this. Not for anything.”

His words settled over you like a shield, equal parts infuriating and reassuring. You wanted to argue, to push back, but deep down, a part of you believed him. Trusted him. And maybe…maybe that scared you even more than the risk.

So, against all logic, against every instinct screaming at you to keep this professional, you felt yourself nodding. “Okay.”

"Good girl," he said, his smirk widening. "Now, let’s get one thing straight. You don’t walk away from me, ever. Got it?"

You nodded again, your voice failing you completely.

"Good," he said, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. "Now, there’s a nice little breakfast diner a couple blocks away that I’m gonna take you to after. But first, come shower with me. It seems I’ve got some things I need to remind you of."

And just like that, the suitcase you’d been clutching slipped from your grasp as Roman took your hand and led you toward the back of the bus—and toward a future you would never have seen coming in a million years...but you liked, anyway.

THE END

------------------------

So glad this is finally out. Took me nearly 2 years, lol.

How was it? The smut is a lot, I know 😬 But I often try to ensure there's a story behind it.

Please leave comments! I love comments 😁😙😊

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i-cant-sing · 10 months ago

Text

TIME TRAVELER AU PT 2

Original post/idea here. Part 1 is here. Part 3 is here.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

I fucked up.

You thought as you sat on the bed, holding your head in your hands.

I fucked up so baaaaaad.

Not only have you healed Baldwin of his leprosy, forever changing history of the LEPER KING, but also managed to somehow be his bride. To make matters EVEN worse, you cant just up and leave right now because you dont know the disastrous effects it'll have on the future now that Baldwin wont die of leprosy, which means that the kingdom of Jerusalem wont fall to Salauddin and his muslim army and after that its just a domino effect.

You tried to view your options here.

I stay here, marry Baldwin and fuck up the fabric of time and space because how can someone from the future marry someone from the past? Wouldnt I cease to exist?

I leave, return to my time where authorities arrest me for fucking around with time- that is, if I even exist in the future now that I've altered history. Who knows if my ancestors survived/were born after this?

No. Neither option is good. I need to stay here and fix this. But in a way that i dont draw too much attention to myself so that im so insignificant that nobody remembers, let alone writes about me in the history books.

You were drawn out of your thoughts with someone knocking on your door. "Come in." You said, straightening yourself.

A couple of servants walked in, all women. "Princess Y/n." They all courtesied. "We've been sent here by his majesty to prepare you for dinner with him."

Princess? Ah yes. Only a couple of hours ago, Baldwin had proposed to you, I guess the concept of asking wasnt a thing here as he just slipped on the big beautiful ring on your finger.

You narrowed your eyes at them. "First of all, Im not a princess. You will address me as Y/n only. And secondly, Im not going to join him for dinner, so there's no need to prepare me" The maids all shared a look of confusion before the head servant spoke.

"But we cant address you as anything else until you wed the king, after which you will be our queen, princess."

"Didnt I just tell you not to call me princess? Just call me Y/n!" The head maid shook her head. "Princess, we can not do that. If we do, then we would be punished. And we must prepare you for dinner with his majesty!" The maids moved ahead to start helping you but you raised a hand, halting them.

"I said, no." You said sternly.

"What... what will we tell the king, princess? He's expecting you-"

"Tell him i cant come because Im sic- no, Im not feeling well and Id like to be alone." You cant say "sick" in this era, because that means "death sentence" here and you dont want to be fretted over and bring attention to yourself as "the king's fiancee got SICK!". Besides, you do need to be away from Baldwin as much as possible and have some time to plot your moves.

You had pulled out your notebook and began writing out dates and historic events of this era to plan your escape. You're trying to find some sort of shortcut where Baldwin gets sick again and dies, leaving his kingdom in the hands of his sister and brother in law, who will bring its downfall-

Someone knocked on your door gently. "Princess?" You quickly hid your notebook. "Come in."

Baldwin walked inside and towards you, eyes worried as they scanned you up and down.

"I heard you're not feeling well?" He asked and before you had a chance to back away, he had cupped your cheeks in his hands tenderly. "What's wrong? Shall I fetch the royal physician?"

"No." You replied with your face smushed in his hands. "I'm fine." You pulled your face away his large hands.

Confusion spread through his blue orbs. "Then why did you not join me for dinner?" He asked, using a hand to push your hair over your ear, not taking the hint that you didn't want him touching you.

"I just-" what possible excuse could you come up with that would be both effective and not insulting enough to have your head chopped off. "you- you dont care about me."

Baldwin looked at you in bewilderment. "I dont... care about you? Princess, how can you say that?" He tried to cup your cheek again but you backed away before he could, putting on a face of hurt.

"How can I not? You dont care about what I want, or even ask me what I need?" You feingned pain in your voice, turning away from him for dramatic effect.

He grabbed your shoulders and turned you towards him, his pupils grew wide as if trying to search for what it is that you need. "My love, what do you want? Just say the word, and I'll give it to you."

You looked down, again for the theatrics, and Baldwin lifted your chin. "Go on."

"You never- never asked me to marry you."

"Huh? But I did today-"

"No, you stated it- demanded I marry you." You furrowed your brows and looked down again.

Baldwin smiled. Of course, how could he have not asked you? You were a girl after all, you want to be courted the traditional way. Its not your fault that you dont know that kings do not ask permission for things. They just get it, because who would refuse to marry a king?

He kissed your forehead, lifting your chin again to meet his eyes. "Im sorry, princess. I shouldve asked." He took your hands in his and had that charming smile again. "Will you marry me, Y/n?"

"No." You shook your head. "I... I cant marry you, your majesty." You said, adding tears into your eyes. His brows furrowed in concern.

"What? Why?" You tried pulling your hands away but he didnt let go, tightening his grip ever so slightly.

"I-" well, you could say that youre not catholic and the church would never let you two get married, but you also dont wanna be tortured for being a "heretic". Maybe religious differences could be the last plan. Taking your silence as hesitance, Baldwin spoke. "I can offer you everything and more. Jerusalem would be yours. What is it that I lack that anyone else could offer?"

"I am not a good match for you!" Ah yes, lets do the typical "its not you, its me." You bit your lip as you yanked your hands out of his and walked towards the window, your back to him (theatrics). "You and I are not equals- no we are nowhere close! Youre a king, your father was a king, your family is royalty. I come from nothing, as did my ancestors. There will never be stability in our marriage when we come from such different backgrounds!" You never thought that you would be putting yourself down and call yourself "inferior" to break up with a man.

Silence hung in the air, as you held your breath.

"Youre right." You heard him say behind you. "We are not equals, we never will be." For some reason, instead of being relieved, a chill ran down your spine. Baldwin wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder. "I may be a king, but youre far superior to me. You're an angel, sent to me by God, and you saved me. I wouldnt be king anymore if you werent here, princess."

Warmth spread from your cheeks to the tip of your ears, both due to the close proximity and his words. Sensing your bashfulness, he chuckled, kissing your cheek as he turned you around to face him. You could hear your own heart beat at how close he was.

Baldwin tilted his head, half lidded eyes staring at you. "Youre everything and more that I could ask for, princess. Never put yourself down and compare yourself to me, hm?" He said, giving your arms a gentle squeeze before moving away, but not detaching himself completely as he took ahold of your hand and looked back at you.

"Now that this is settled, let us go eat. I've had the servants prepare a feast for us and then we can discuss wedding arrangements-" shit shit shit shit shit fuck it!

"I'm not catholic!" Baldwin halted at that. You've already said it, might as well dig yourself a deeper hole. You let the tears form in your eyes. "Im... Muslim. I didnt tell you because I didnt want you to think I was working for Salauddin and spying on you for him, you know I wasnt! I really did only want to know about you. Please believe me, I wasnt-"

"I believe you."

What? Just like that.

"You- you believe me?" You breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Once again, Im sorry i didnt tell you I was a Muslim, but dont worry, I'll pack my things and leave tonight-"

"Why? We still have to get married."

You blinked slowly. "But... Im Muslim?"

Baldwin shrugged. "So? It doesnt change anything."

You looked at him in bafflement. "It does! It changes everything! We cant get married! Im a Muslim! The church wont allow interfaith marriages, and I dont intend on converting to catholicism either if thats what youre suggesting!"

"I am not suggesting that. You can be a muslim if you want to, but we're still getting married." Baldwin stated matter of factly.

"The church wont allow it-"

"The church will do as I say. I am the head of the church. Besides-" He smiled.

"I dont remember angels having to prove themselves to be a catholic. You saved my life, you cured my incurable disease. As far as the church is concerned, youre a miracle sent to me by God. Youre the Chosen One!"

Is he... is he hearing himself? Can you try to convince him?

"But... but Jerusalem deserves a Catholic Queen-" you tried weakly, but he cupped your cheek and smiled gently at you.

"I am Jerusalem, Y/n. And I deserve you." Was all he said before pecking your forehead.

He tugged you along with him. "Now, we have to eat."

You dont want to eat. You want to stay behind and think of another strategy because clearly you cant talk yourself out of this wedding.

"I'm- I'm not hungry." You said, making him frown.

"How is that possible? You havent had anything since morning. I dont want you getting sick before the wedding." Baldwin continued to pull you along.

Does he not listen?

"I dont want to eat- I- dont feel like it." You said a bit harshly this time, hoping he'd take the hint.

And he did, finally stopping. He sighed and let go of your hand. "Okay. I suppose if you really dont want to, we can skip dinner tonight." Fucking finally. "Its just... I seem to have developed a habit of enjoying meals with you. And now that my leprosy is cured and I have no more diet restrictions, I just- I had the kitchen prepare some of my favourite dishes that I was able to enjoy before my disease disabled me."

You stared at him. Is he- is he trying to guilt trip you? Baldwin once told you that due to leprosy he had ulcers in his mouth, and he couldnt eat different types of food, and was only able to have bland, soft goo.

You looked away from his big sad eyes. He's not getting to you. You need to go back to your room, make yourself scarce, be far away from him as often as possible.

"You can still go and eat dinner alone."

With one hand, he cupped your cheek. "Princess, you know I cant eat until you eat too. But its okay, if you dont want to eat, then I wont too. I guess I'll just have the servants finish the chicken roast and oh-! They even made strawberry cream cake for dessert. But- maybe another day."

You looked into his eyes, those blue orbs that were filled with sadness, resembling a kid who was just told "no candy!"

Sighing, you held his hand. "Maybe I can have a few bites."

His face lit up. Ah, he knew you'd come around. "Lets go!"

The next day, youre helped by the maids to get ready for the day. Apparently, Sibylla wanted to meet you and discuss some things, and you suspect she wants to talk about the wedding preprations.

The maids had prepared your bath and were very insistent on washing you themselves but you made them all leave the bath chambers. Finally, they compromised when you told them that they could dress you up if they wait outside.

Setting your old clothes on the bed, you entered the bathroom and settled into the warm water. The essential oils and flower petals soothed your mind and body, and you finally had some desperately needed silence to hear your own thoughts.

Last night at dinner, Baldwin was very- well, "happy" would be an understatement to how he felt near you. And all those forehead kisses and skin contact doesnt go unnoticed by you either. You suppose that since he had leprosy, he never really had or was allowed to touch anyone else. But now that hes cured, all thanks to your dumb ass, he craves the physical intimacy.

You closed your eyes as you sank deeper into the warm water. Gosh, did I really have to give him the water? Had I not done that, he would still be ridden with lepro-

Your eyes snapped open. Thats it. You just have to make sure he never drank your water in the first place! Yes! You can go back in time and sure, its always dangerous to go back in the same time period more than once, but you really dont have any other option now, do you?

After half an hour, you finally exited the bathroom and the maids practically ushered you to sit in the chair as they finally, FINALLY got to dress up the future queen of Jerusalem and after a whole hour, they're finally done. And... well you look good. Your hair has been done nicely, and a delicate golden headpiece, almost like a elegant hair band sits on top of your head. They added some color to your cheeks and lips with crushed berries. As for your clothes, they dressed you in a dark blue tunic with loose, flowing sleeves. The tunic itself was made of silk, probably brought in from the Byzantine empire and was only available to the upperclass of this time.

"I am not wearing those!" You said when they opened the jewellery boxes. There were diamonds and other precious stones adorning the earrings and necklaces.

"But princess, you must wear these. It is royal protocol for the king's bride to be, and the future queen to wear the royal jewels." The head maid said. She doesnt know that you dont plan on sticking around and if you leave wearing these jewels, who knows what havoc would that cause?

"No. I dont want to wear them."

The maids shared a look of concern. "What?" You asked them.

"Its just... his majesty picked these out for you himself. He would be mad at us if you were not wearing these." One of the younger servants spoke as she fumbled with her fingers. Through the mirror, you looked at everyone's worried expression. You doubt that someone as calm and collected as Baldwin would lose his marbles over his fiancee not wearing jewellery.

"I dont think the king would be mad at you if I dont wear some jewellery. He isnt one to get angry that easily, you know?" You said chuckling, but it died when you saw them share the same concerned looks again. This time, you turned away from the mirror to look at them directly. "What? Go on, no secrets."

Another maid mustered up the courage to mumble. "Well- it's just- the king- I mean- his majesty is calm but um-" she paused to look at the other maids for help but they all avoided eye contact. "Out with it." You said a bit sternly.

"His majesty... gets... emotional- yes, emotional! When it comes to matters concerning you."

"Emotional? What do you mean? Speak clearly, no word will get out of this room, I promise." You spoke all while glaring at the other maids to make them silently comply to not tattle on their friend.

The maid bit her lip. "His majesty... gets mad when he thinks that you're not being treated well." You gave her a look to continue. "A few weeks back, while you were strolling out in the garden, his majesty reprimanded some of his knights for not escorting you. He asked them why they weren't guarding you?"

A few weeks back? It may have made some sense for Baldwin to be protective of his bride to be, but you two weren't engaged until yesterday. And before that, his relationship with you was barely platonic, more like a king-servant thing.

"Tell her about the kitchen incident too." Another maid whispered.

"What kitchen incident?"

"Um, 2 months ago, when the kitchen had prepared a feast for his majesty, he almost fired the entire kitchen staff for serving olives with the entree." You gave them a quizzical look. "Well, his majesty had told them that you can't eat olives and had told them not to include it in the palace's food. But it was a feast to celebrate his victory and the staff thought it'd be best to add olives because the king likes them."

Your eyes widened at that. He almost fired the kitchen staff because you said you can't eat olives? I mean, it's not like you're deathly allergic, you just didn't like how tart they were and when Baldwin saw you picking them out on your plate, all you could manage to blurt out was that you can't eat them. Perhaps, he thought you had diet restrictions like him.

You huffed. That still didnt warrant such a reaction from him. "That isn't nice. Don't worry, I'll talk to him."

The maid looked at you in horror. "No! I mean, his majesty would not like that we- um..." she tried to come up with appropriate words that wouldn't be insulting. Her scrunched up face as she thought hard made you giggle.

"Fine, fine. I won't say anything to him. You have my word." You said, smiling at them assuringly.

The head maid then held out the pearl necklace to you. You sighed and nodded, and they all cheered as they started picking out the jewels for you.

Its okay. You told yourself. I can always drop them somewhere before time travelling.

As soon as you were dressed, one of Sibylla's lady-in-waiting came to fetch you. She hurried you, saying something along the lines of "you must see princess Sibylla right away!" And you couldn't stop her from pulling you along, so time travelling will have to wait.

"Princess Sibylla needs to see you right away, princess!" The maid said as she pulled you towards a room. Knocking on it, the door swung open and you were met with the sight of different gowns hanging on dummies with maids tending to them, and right in the center of the room was Sibylla, practically jumping on her heels.

"Y/n!" She yelled out as she ran towards you and engulfed you in a hug before her lady in waiting, the same one standing beside you, cleared her throat. It caught Sibylla's attention who gasped softly before backing away and immeadiately giving you a courtesy. "I mean, princess Y/n." You gave a nasty look to the lady in waiting before shaking your head at an embarrassed Sibylla. "You don't need to courtesy to me, princess Sibylla."

She immeadiately beamed. "Of course I do! You're not going to be just my sister in law, you're also going to be Queen of Jerusalem! Of course i bow to you."

Me, a queen? Yeah, we'll see about that.

"Still, I consider us friends before anything else." You offerer her a small smile. "You called for me?"

"Oh? Oh, yes!" She immeadiately grabbed your hand and pulled you further into the room. "I didn't know what colours and material you preferred, so I ordered them to bring everything with the best seamstresses in kingdom!" She pointed at the seamstresses, who bowed to you.

"But... I don't need clothes. I already have a wardrobe." Your statement made Sibylla laugh as did a few of her hand maidens.

"Ahh, you're so naive!" Sibylla giggled. "That wardrobe doesn't exist anymore. You're a princess, soon to be queen, you need a royal wardrobe!" She said as she dragged her hand over one of the gowns, feeling the material. "And! You still have to select your bridal gown!"

For the next 3 hours, Sibylla had the maids show you different gowns and materials, even helping by giving her input as to what would suit you.

"I still like my old clothes, they're quite comfortable." You sighed. Designing your new wardrobe was not something that needed your urgent attention at the moment. You need to return to your room and get the time machine from your old dress and leave this era.

Sibylla nods. "I understand what you're going through. I still remember how they burned away my entire wardrobe when I married Guy. But I suppose its poetic in a way. Since you're starting a new life, so why not start one by getting new clothes!"

Wait.

"They burnt all your old clothes?" Sibylla nods. "Mmhmm! In a way, you're burning away your past! And starting a new-" You didn't stick around as you immeadiately rushed out of the room and made your way towards your own.

You can't- your old clothes has your time machine. If they burn it, you can't ever leave!

You burst into your room, looking at the empty spot on your bed where you'd left your clothes before going in the bath.

"No." The maids, they must've put it in your closet. You searched it, searched your entire room but to no avail.

A maid walked into your room, watching you tear apart the bedroom. "P-princess? May I help-"

"Where are my clothes?!" You walked upto her, the poor maid's fright apparently on her face. "WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES!?"

"They- they're burning it-"

"WHERE?!"

"The gardens!"

You ran out of your room, and made your way towards the royal gardens as fast as you could, but with how huge this palace was, getting there took a while. Not to mention when you did get to the gardens, you didn't spot anyone there, but you did notice the smell of something burning, which lead you to the back of the gardens, that was away from everyone's sight.

There you found them, two maids burning your clothes in a small bonfire.

"PUT IT OUT!" You yelled as you rushed towards them, startling them.

"Princess-" they began bowing.

"Didn't you hear me? PUT THE FIRE OUT!" They scrambled about trying to find some water, but of course, they didn't have it.

"I'll get it from the fountain!" The two maids ran to get a bucket of water for you, but it would be too late by the time they came. So when you spotted your old dress burning, you pulled it out with bare hands, not caring about burning yourself.

The dress was mostly burnt to ashes, while only few bits remained that were still on fire. You managed to wrangle out your time machine out of it, the small metal box that was burning hot and left marks on your skin as you tried to hold it.

But even from here, you could see the damage was done. The area that displayed the year had now completely melted off, as did some of the buttons.

No. No. No. No. No. NO!

You couldn't help but cry as reality began to set in. You're stuck here.... you're stuck here forever.

Heart wrenching sobs wracked your body as you tried to hold the hot metal machine in your hands, your skin burning as you tried. Even when the servants came and poured the water on the fire, you still kept on crying, clutching your machine to your chest, partly to conceal it, partly from helplessness.

The maids looked at each in worry as they tried to console you, tried to pacify you, lest you had them executed. But it didn't matter, you were inconsolable. While one of the maids sat by your side, trying to soothe you, the other one ran in to get help.

Moments later, when you were able to hide the machine in your clothes again, someone came up and touched your shoulder from behind.

"Y/n?" You looked up through your tears. It was Baldwin. For some reason, seeing him only made you cry harder as you finally realised that you were stuck here with him. That you fucked up permanently.

"Oh princess. What's wrong? Don't cry- shhh, I'm here." He pulled your body towards him, letting you sob into his chest heartbreakingly. Exhaustion, frustration and shock must have overtook your body, as you fainted in his arms.

"Princess? Y/n?" He tried waking you up before collecting you in his arms and rushing back into the castle.

Hours later, you woke up to find yourself back in your room, lying in your bed. Your eyes looked down at your hands which were now wrapped in bandages. They only served as a reminder of what youd lost- your time machine.

Tears welled up in your eyes again. Am I- am I really stuck here? You sniffled.

A hand came up to caress your cheek, startling you.

It was Baldwin. "Princess? Do you want to tell me what happened?" His soft tone made you even more sad, and you raised your bandaged hands to wipe your tears, but he caught your wrists and lowered them back gently, using his own hands to wipe away the tears.

"No, you cant use your hands for sometime. The burns need to heal." His hand remained on your cheek, thumb caressing the area under your eye. "What happened, Y/n? Why were you so upset?"

You cant avoid the topic for long, and now that your way of escape is gone, you need to be careful of what you say and how you act around the king.

You let out a shaky breath. "They... they burned my clothes."

"Mmhm. Dont worry, I will have them bring in the fanciest clothes for you. Sibylla will make sure of it. Only the best for my princess." You shook your head. "Its not- its not that... They were my clothes... they burned away-"

"I know... but its a tradition. The maids burn away the bride-to-be's old clothes to signify that youre detaching yourself from the past and starting a new life." He explained, watching as you sniffled. Clearly, you were still upset over this.

"But the maids, they still should've informed you of this tradition before doing anything. I know how emotional of a transition this could be for girls." You nodded sadly, heart still sinking at the loss of your machine. "Dont worry though, they will be punished harshly for it. I have them in the dungeons tonight, and tomorrow-"

"What? Punished? No!" You cut him off. You dont want anyone to die because of you, especially when you dont know if anyone these people could potentially be an ancestor of yours.

"But they caused you harm. You burned yourself due to their-"

"No, no. Please, don't punish anyone- I- it was my fault for not knowing about royal traditions! Please, your Majesty, I beg you- don't do this- i- i-" You pleaded.

"Shhh, okay. Okay. I won't punish them for it." He patted your hair. "On one condition."

You looked at him in confusion.

"You call me Baldwin from now on." He grinned. "We are to be husband and wife soon, I don't want us to use royal titles with each other."

Your eyes widened. Is he- is he really giving up titles? You're not that blind to see his attempts at intimacy, but what you don't understand is why or even how you came to be on the receiving end of it.

What exactly is it about you that has made him want to marry you? Surely, Baldwin would've preferred to marry someone of this era, someone who is more compatible with him. Despite you trying to blend in the past months, you allowed Baldwin to see how you're not... as Conservative as most people of this time period are. One could say that he may be impressed by how intelligent you are than others, but it also brings up the factor of being "threatened" or "insulted" by the same intelligence.

Even though you consider beauty to be a "subjective" thing, the whole "beauty is in the eye of the beholder", you're not blind to how attractive others are. So why not them?

Did he only like you because you're intriguing? Does he still think you're a spy? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?

Probably. Or maybe he really does believe all that mumbo jumbo about you being "an angel sent to save him."

"As you wish... Baldwin."

Last night, after Baldwin had left you to rest, you stayed up and tried to figure out if you can fix your time machine, and if not, then can you built another one?

Fucking hell. You closed your eyes. I made it once, I can build it again. But it's easier said than done.

Back in the present, you had the technology to build it. Now? You have to first make the technology and the tools from scratch before you could even get on making your time machine, all while keeping your science project discrete, which was easier before because you weren't going to be married to a fucking King!

Right now, you're sitting in Baldwin's private dining room (yes, there are more than one dining room. He's royalty, what did you expect) having breakfast- well, being fed breakfast.

"You really don't need to do this." You said as Baldwin fed you another spoonful. He smiled as he wiped your lips with a napkin. "I don't need to, I want to. Besides, I don't want my princess starving."

Involuntary, your face flushed. "I- the maids could've fed me. And im not a princess." He frowned slightly. "Why would you- open wide, princess- why would you want the maids to feed you when you have me?" He pushed the spoon to your face as you parted your lips, but then he pulled it away and brought his face close to yours. "Do I make you nervous?"

You backed away immediately. "I- no- I mean-"

He burst out laughing. "I'm- I'm sorry princess, but you are just too endearing!" Baldwin chuckled as he grabbed the spoon again and fed you.

Your cheeks reddened, this time more out anger than embarrassment. "I don't want to eat anymore." You muttered, turning your face away.

He smiled as he brought the spoon to your lips again. "Ah ah, but you still haven't had enough." However, you rejected again, looking away instead of replying.

He sighed, placing the spoon back on the plate. "I'm sorry, princess. I shouldn't have laughed at you."

"You shouldn't have." You mumbled, face still turned away from him.

His lips quirked up a bit. "You know, for someone who insists that she's not a princess-" He turned your face to him gently. "- you sure have all the blandishment of one."

"Blandishment?"

"Flattering actions of a princess." He nodded.

You frowned. "Are you calling me a spoiled princess? A brat?"

"I would never!" Baldwin gasped. "I enjoy you acting like royalty, demanding respect and attention. You deserve it and more. Besides-" He picked up some food on the spoon again and brought it to your lips. "Even if if you were a spoiled, bratty princess, I wouldn't mind. I would enjoy spoiling you, hm?" He nudged the spoon to your lips softly.

You parted your lips, making him smile. It really is hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you with his baby blue eyes. They just- they draw you in.

"Also, before I forget, I will be leaving the castle today to meet Salauddin. So you can either hand out with Sibylla, who still wants to help you design your wedding gown, or your can-"

Salauddin? "Why are you meeting Salauddin? Isn't he your enemy?"

He chuckled. "Only on the battlefield. He and I have developed a friendship, or a mutual respect over the years. As to why I'm going to meet him, is... well, you."

"Me?" He nodded. "Since you told me that you're a Muslim, I thought that we could perhaps have a discreet Islamic wedding- what is it called? Nikkah? So, I could go and learn more about it from Salauddin."

You opened your mouth to protest. You don't need to be part of history as the "king of Jerusalem's Muslim wife" or "the Muslim-Christian wedding that took place during the Crusades", even if it might make the world more progressive.

But then, you didn't protest. "Can I come?"

Baldwin raised a brow at you. "You want to meet Salauddin?" You shook you're head. "Well, no, not really. I mean, I don't mind meeting him, but I just want to get out of the castle for a bit. It's been months since i left this place, I just want to get some fresh air." This could be the perfect opportunity for you, because if memory serves you right, Muslims of this era had made significant advances in science. Maybe you can use their help to get some tools to make the time machine again.

Baldwin looked unsure. "I don't know if it would be safe for you-" you held his hand with your bandaged ones. "Please, Baldwin? Can't you take me with you? And wouldn't I be the most safe when I'm with you?" Ah yes, stroke the male ego.

Finally, he smiled.

"Alright. I supposed it would be fine, after all, you should see the kingdom you're going to be the queen of."

Thoughts? (Also, I need to go shower rn, so I'll put the read more later. Doing so much effort for u guys, my spoiled greedy children)

Part 3 is here.

#yandere baldwin #yandere king baldwin #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x #yandere x darling #yandere #baldwin iv

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raven-dor · 3 months ago

Text

when you light the candle

in which gwayne hightower finds love in the arms of the targaryen heir, rhaenyra’s daughter

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x targaryen!reader

WARNINGS: arranged marriage, allusion to slight nsfw, typical HOTD language, Aegon being a creep, fluff!!

WORD COUNT: 6.4k

🎶 : k. - cigarettes after sex

AN: in this fic, viserys is dead and rhaenyra became queen (YAY) but her peaceful accession came with a price... also ages for gwayne and alicent are different because i thought it would be weird to have a huge disgusting age gap!!

“My dear-” Rhaenyra sighed.

“I understand my duty as heir, Mother, but that does not mean I cannot express my grievances.” Her daughter crossed her arms. “You cannot blame me for being hesitant. A Hightower, really?” Her face contorted with disgust. “It feels as if I am being condemned to death.”

“Y/N…” Rhaenyra fought the urge to laugh. She often forgot how alike she and her daughter were. “My darling girl, I am sorry, truly, but our kingdom needs stability, and this marriage will see to that. You must-”

“Like I said earlier,” Y/N snapped back, sitting down rather unladylike. “I understand, no need to explain it any further.”

“Yes well… for what it is worth, I have heard he is a rather kind man.” Rhaenyra scoffed, plucking a grape off the vine. “Shocking for a knight, I think.”

Y/N smiled to herself, staring into the distance. “I seem to remember one such knight.”

While her daughter may have resembled her in personality and stature, much like her brothers, Y/N was the spitting image of her father. “He was very kind, yes.” Rhaenyra sat beside the young woman, pushing a stray hair behind her ear gently. “And loving.” She whispered. “Your father loved you very much.”

Y/N nodded. “I know, Mother.” Holding her hand, she smiled. “He loved you just as much.”

Rhaenyra could not find it in herself to speak, simply nodding.

Y/N straightened her dress for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour, or at least that is what it felt like for Jacaerys, who was watching in amusement.

“I fear if you pull on your fabric anymore, it will fall off.”

She rolled her eyes, shoving her brother harshly. “When you are of age and put on display for all the eligible young ladies to gawk and stare at, tell me, dear brother, how calm and collected you feel then.”

“Nervous?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “It is showing, I must say.”

“For the entirety of the court to judge me for this ridiculous dress?” She jutted her hip, glaring. “Not in the slightest.”

He sighed, extending his arm for her to hold as the grand doors opened. He leaned over whispering in her ear comfortingly. “You’re a dragon, sister. Do not forget it.”

Taking a deep breath, she stood as straight as possible, smiling like she hadn’t just been spiraling. “Quite a lot of green in this crowd.” Y/N muttered, waving politely as she passed her subjects.

Jacaerys scoffed. “I expect you’ll be seeing much more in the coming weeks now that you’re marrying a Hightower.”

Y/N fought the urge to roll her eyes, pinching his arm discreetly. He hissed, and she laughed as their mother watched from the high table, suppressing a grin. Bowing before their mother, step father, and the Dowager Queen, both tried to sneak a peek at her husband to be.

Y/N smiled as they stood upright. “Your Majesties.”

Alicent smiled half-heartedly. It was better than nothing, she supposed. Her brothers did not receive the same treatment, the smiles, the ‘good will’. The Dowager Queen had always had a soft spot for Y/N.

Why, she had no idea.

Taking their place beside their mother, Rhaenyra stood, addressing the crowd. “It was not long ago that I myself was in this position. Marriage is work, marriage is patience. Fortunately, my daughter seems to have much more patience than I.” Laughter fell over the crowd, and Rhaenyra gestured toward the Dowager Queen and her family that sat beside her. “Our houses have long been allies, and I am glad to continue that tradition with this union.” She raised her glass, smiling at her daughter as she spoke. “May their marriage be blessed!”

The crowd raised their glasses in unison, cheering for the Princess, who was smiling brightly, the very picture of nobility and duty. None of them knew the truth: how she really had no idea who she was marrying or what exactly she was getting into.

After what felt like minutes of applause, Y/N sat down, indulging herself in a rather full cup of mead. “My lady.” She turned around, her breath catching at the sight of the man in front of her.

He was quite tall, and handsome.

“I wanted to introduce myself.”

She smiled, setting her glass down. “You must be Lord Hightower.”

He nodded. “You are quite intuitive.”

Oh. Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Or observant. It does not take a mastermind to see the resemblance between you and your sister.”

That was the other thing she could not get passed. Yes, she was two and twenty, practically an old maid, but did that really mean she could get married off to a man only two years younger than her mother?

Lord Hightower did not look disheartened. If anything, her resistance to his ‘charm’ made him more intrigued. “I wonder, my lady, if I could interest you in a dance?”

Y/N smiled, annoyance all but rolling off of her shoulders. “I believe-”

Rhaenyra cut in, staring at her daughter with an intensity that rivaled her dragon. “I’m sure the Princess would be delighted to dance with you, Ser Gwayne.”

“Yes.” Y/N smiled tightly. “I would love to.”

Gwayne extended his hand, bowing his head, slightly. “My lady.”

She took his hand, following him to the dance floor. The rest of the nobility followed after, the waltz gently playing in the background as they moved around the room. Gwayne leaned down, whispering in her ear. “You seem rather upset with this arrangement, Princess.”

She tried not to scowl. “I am merely upset that yet another choice of my life has been decided for me.” Her eyes widening, realizing she had just told her husband to be something she had only told her family. “I-”

He smiled, shaking his head. “Do not apologize to me. If I were in your position, I would be equally as frustrated, perhaps more.” He whispered again. “I’m rather passionate about these sorts of things.”

The Princess raised an eyebrow, curious. “You are passionate about what exactly?”

“Anything you are.” He spun her around, laughing at her flushed cheeks. “I plan to be very supportive of my wife, unlike many of my peers.”

Her heart fluttered, but her face told a different story. “How… kind of you ser.”

Jace squinted his eyes, glaring at the Hightower man. “I don’t trust him, mother.”

Rhaenyra laughed, appreciative of her son’s protectiveness. “You must know Jacaerys, that I would never match your sister with a man I did not consider to be of high moral character.” She raised an eyebrow. “Do you believe me cruel?”

“No.” Jace shook his head, looking back to the man charming his sister. Or, trying to at the very least. “But still…”

He hadn’t even kissed her on the lips. It kept racing through her mind as she sat front and center at her reception. At their reception. He hadn’t even kissed her on the lips. She had been walked up the aisle by her brother, stood beside him, prepared herself, and he kissed her on the corner of her mouth.

What sort of kiss was that?

She was confused, unbelievably confused.

“Are you alright, Princess?” Gwayne whispered.

She nodded, not knowing whether to feel offended or relieved at his hesitation. “Fine.”

“Do you need a moment? Perhaps we can-”

Of course. He wanted to retire and start the bedding process. She almost scoffed in his face. “I need to find my mother.” She didn’t wait for a response, standing up and walking into the crowd. Her mother was fixed in the back of the room, talking with Baela and Jace. Y/N approached her mother, hooking her arm through hers. “May I talk to you?” She gestured toward the two teenagers. “Alone.”

Rhaenyra nodded slowly, shooing the young couple away. “Are you alright?”

“I-” Y/N pulled her mother to a secluded area of the hall. “He wants to retire.”

“He wants to-” The older woman’s face dawned with realization. “I see.”

Y/N nodded. “I-” She gulped, whispering. “I’m scared, Mother.”

Rhaenyra smiled, pulling her daughter into a tight embrace. “My sweet girl. Don’t be frightened. Truly.” She pulled away, placing a comforting hand on her cheek. “He will not touch you until you are ready, I am most certain of it.”

“Mother, he is a lord, like any other we’ve come to know. He will-”

“Do you trust me?” Rhaenyra whispered.

Y/N nodded, grasping her mother’s hand tightly. “Of course I do.”

“Then trust me once more. Your husband is a good man, and he will not touch you unless you…” She paused. “He will not touch you, unless that is what you wish.”

Ah.

Y/N felt torn. He was attractive, she had to admit, and kind enough. But still, she hadn’t wanted to… not again. She squeezed her eyes shut, murmuring under her breath. “He’ll, he’ll find out-”

She had put her trust in the wrong squire. She was only ten and five and he was sweet, or so she thought. She'd trusted him, and he had used her for his moment of fame, a way to coerce the Royal Family. Daemon had gone manic when he had found out, and the squire… Rhaenyra shook her head. “He will never know unless you choose to tell him.”

Y/N nodded, smiling weakly. “Goodnight, Mother.” Spinning on her heels, she stalked toward the main table, standing in front of Gwayne. “Shall we?”

Her husband looked shocked but still nodded. The crowd started jeering, laughing, and making comments about the Princess’s eagerness. That hadn’t made her disturbed.

What disturbed her was that in a few moments, the entirety of the royal court would all be in their shared quarters, watching the bedding ceremony.

It had been a silent walk, neither of them making an attempt to speak to the other. The maid’s eyes all but fell out of their sockets when they saw the Princess burst through their doors, Lord Hightower diligently following three paces behind her.

Gwayne had sensed his wife was an anxious woman the moment they’d met, but tonight, that anxiety was pouring off of her in waves. He smiled kindly at the servants, dismissing them from their work. “That will be all for tonight, thank you.” They scurried out, leaving the pair alone for the first time. He looked curiously at the young woman, who was pacing around the room. Taking a careful step toward her, he spoke softly. “Are you quite alright, my lady?”

“Why-” She stopped, staring at him. “You didn’t kiss me.”

“I-”

“I understand that I am quite homely compared to the beauties of Oldtown, but…” She shook her head, stalking toward him with an accusing finger pointed. “You embarrassed me at my own wedding. The least you could have done-”

“You are not homely, my lady.” He reached a hand out, caressing her cheek. “Quite the opposite really.”

She tensed, pulling out of his touch. “You Hightowers- you’re always planning something. I am the heir to the Iron Throne, and you would treat me as a common woman, not worthy of your love or respect. Even if I wasn’t heir, you should never treat a woman-”

She was quite beautiful, he’d noticed. Watching her rant about his family filled his heart with something he couldn’t quite place. Her eyes were passionate, full of fire and drive. Her hair was quite beautiful while it was down, so dark and full.

“Are you- are you even listening to me?”

Gods, she had caught him staring. “I-”

“I’m sure you are fantasizing about how you will take me during the bedding ceremony, but I assure you, this will be the most uninteresting moment of our married life. Hopefully, I will embarrass you as much as you embarrassed me.” She crossed her arms, satisfied with her dig at his supposed thoughts. While he struggled to find the words to respond, she began to remove her clothes, remaining covered by her thin slip.

His cheeks grew red, and he raised his eyebrows, trying not to combust. “Bedding ceremony?” Gwayne coughed. His voice sounded as if it was being squeezed.

“Are you playing dumb?” She scoffed. “I am sure you have been to plenty a poor maiden’s wedding night.”

He tilted his head, thoroughly confused. “I’m sorry if you have been led astray, but there is to be no bedding ceremony.”

“Ah.” She somehow felt… disappointed? “My mother saved me that embarrassment at least.”

“Well, it was actu-” She stormed past him, slipping on her robe and slippers. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you. I don’t trust you not to-”

While she was stunningly beautiful and quickly driving him into a stupor, he could not stand by and let her assume the worst of him. “Listen to me when I say this- I do not ever wish to embarrass you. Ever. It was I who denied the bedding ceremony. The ‘men’ of the court brought the proposition to me, and when I denied them…” His eyes became dark. “That is a disgusting and vile tradition, one that I do not wish to practice.”

She felt warm, and caught herself smiling. Shaking her head, she pulled her robe closer to her body. “You- you vex me.”

He laughed, stepping closer to her, a smirk gracing his handsome face. “You vex me just as much.” He held her hand, kissing the back gently. “My lady.”

“You-” She growled, stomping her foot like a child. “Good night my lord.” Whipping around, she practically flew out the door, leaving Gwayne alone in their chambers.

Saying farewell had proven to be much more difficult than she had thought. But wearing green… she felt like an imposter. She looked down the line, forcing herself not to laugh at Aegon’s fresh black eye. He refused to make eye contact with her, she could not figure out why. The only Greens she had bothered saying goodbye to were Helaena and the Dowager Queen, ignoring her two uncles. They never cared for each other, if anything, she would be glad to be rid of their presence.

Her brothers stood in a row, each growing sadder as she approached them. Aegon and Viserys did not understand why she was leaving, too young to understand the impact this would have on their family. Joffrey was visibly melancholy, clinging to his sister tightly. He whispered, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Don’t leave me.”

Y/N smiled, kneeling down to be eye level with her little brother. “I will never leave you, Joff. I’ll visit you often, I promise.” She kissed his cheek gently, standing back up, approaching the two eldest. “Behave yourselves.” They looked at her with watery eyes and stoic faces. “Take care of Mother and the boys. I expect-” They both lunged forward, hugging her tightly. She laughed, ruffling their hair. “It will be alright. I’ll be back.”

Luke’s face was wet, and he mumbled into the fabric of her dress. “No you won’t.”

She scoffed. “I will. You just wait and see.”

Jace let go, crossing his arms accusingly. “You’ll be busy, I imagine. Taking care of your family.”

Y/N reached out, grasping his hand tightly. “You are my family. Always. I will always be your sister, you can confide in me until we are old and grey. The city of Oldtown is always open to you.”

She looked back to Gwayne, who nodded firmly, stepping forward to address the princes. “She is correct. Visit whenever you like.” He looked to Y/N, whispering. “We should depart soon.”

She nodded, looking back to her siblings. “I must leave.”

Lucerys let go, wiping away the leftover tears that clung to his cheeks. “I’ll write to you.”

She smiled. “Nothing would please me more.”

Gwayne held his arm out, but Y/N ignored him, approaching Jacaerys carefully. “I will miss you.”

He nodded, staring at the ground. “And I you.”

“Jace,” she sighed. “I do not wish to leave you upset.”

“I am not upset.” He scoffed.

She laughed, shaking her head affectionately. “I suppose your watery eyes are simply a result of hay fever.”

His shoulders shook slightly, a smile peeking out from behind his frown. “Have a safe trip sister.”

She nodded, kissing his forehead gently. “You will be one for the history books, I know it.”

Taking Gwayne’s arm, she looked back at her family one last time before entering the carriage.

“Thank you.” She whispered.

He smiled. “Whatever for?”

“I know you hit Aegon.” She crossed her arms, smirking. “I assume he was one of the ‘men’ who asked you about the bedding ceremony. Am I right?” He nodded. “That is quite noble of you.”

His cheeks grew red. “Merely protecting your honor, my lady.”

She smiled, reaching her hand out, holding his hand for a moment. “You are a much better man than most.”

“It is not hard to do…” He whispered, his eyes kind. “When one has you as a wife.”

Oldtown had done nothing for the couple’s relationship, if anything, it had dwindled it back down into the nothingness it once was. Gwayne was busy running the city in the wake of his uncle’s death, and Y/N, she knew no one. After becoming the Lady Hightower, her old ladies in waiting were taken away, as she was now too low of a position to house that many young ladies for ‘seemingly no reason.’ That had made no sense to her. She was heir to the Iron Throne, how was she at ‘too low of a position?’ Still…

She was utterly alone.

She had tried to make an effort, at first. Gwayne had appreciated it, (as evident from his words at dinner), but he was constantly busy, off in meetings or dealing with skirmishes in the city. Perusing the halls of the castle had passed the time for the first fortnight of her arrival. She loved the way the tower seemingly never ended, even when she reached the attic. It felt infinite, full of new corridors she’d never seen before.

That too grew tiring.

It began to feel so when she came to know the halls of the tower as well as the back of her own hand.

After a rather dreary morning, she meticulously planned her escape. Sneaking away from the watchful eye of her assigned guards, she raced towards the stable, mounting her horse and galloping through the great gates. The citizens of Oldtown stared, murmuring about their new lady. Y/N laughed, not caring to think of their opinions as long as the breeze ran through her hair and the sun shone on her face. The surrounding land smelled fresh, unlike that of King’s Landing. She had no real destination, following the well traveled path until she reached a clearing. Tying her horse to a nearby tree, she strolled down the hill, meeting the most tranquil scene she’d ever been graced with in her life. A large lake, rivaling that of the ocean, laid before her, a small island in the middle of it all.

She removed her robe and garments, haphazardly tossing them on a nearby log. Practically falling into the lake, the water quieted the world around her. A sort of gargled voice rang through the peaceful quiet and she jumped, standing up in the lake to meet her husband's wide eyes.

“My lord.” She smiled weakly.

“A guard informed me that my wife was last seen racing out of Oldtown’s gates.” His voice held a sort of humor. “Naturally, I had to investigate the incident myself.”

She laughed, clutching herself for warmth. “I am sorry if I worried you.”

He shook his head. “There is no need to apologize, my lady.” He picked up her robe, extending his hand. She took it gratefully, wrapping the warm cloth around her. “In fact, no one would fault you if you had left. If that is in fact-”

“No!” She yelled, covering her mouth with her hand in shock. “I meant…” She stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm. “I am quite content, my lord. I wanted respite. From the tower.”

He nodded, holding her hand in his. “You are shivering.”

“I am quite fine, my lord.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I have never known shivering to end in any sort of ‘fine,’ my lady.” He smiled, extending his arm. “Shall we?”

The couple walked in silence for a moment, enjoying each other's presence. Y/N looked up, clearing her throat. “May I request something of you?”

Gwayne nodded eagerly. “Anything.”

Y/N smiled, warmth blooming inside of her chest. “Call me by my name, please. I don’t think I can go another day being addressed as my lady.” She whispered, staring at the ground. “It is quite formal, is it not? For a husband and wife, that is.”

“I would like that.” Gwayne smiled, lifting her chin with a single finger. “As long as you call me by mine in return.”

She nodded, fighting the blush that threatened to form. He was rather beautiful, with his freckles and long hair. “I believe that can be arranged.”

“Gwayne!” She called out for what felt like the fifth time. She had missed his company in truth, and hadn’t seen him in what felt like weeks. (It had been a mere day.)

“Gwayne?” She pushed open a cracked door, grinning. “Are you-” She frowned. The room was empty, except for a portrait. She felt pulled forward, walking further into the room. The woman was stern looking, but beautiful, there was no doubt in her mind. The portraits eyes were bright blue, piercing the very soul who dared to look back at her.

“I see you found my mother.”

Y/N clutched her chest, whipping around. “You frightened me!”

He laughed, walking forward and kissing the back of her hand gently. “I apologize.” His tone was soft, quiet as a mouse. “Did I truly scare you?”

She shook her head, their eyes locked in a dangerous embrace. "So this is your mother?”

He nodded, turning towards the portrait. “My father commissioned it mere months before she died.” He smiled, tightening his hold on her hand. “When I was younger, I would find him in here, staring at her likeness." He laughed to himself. "They were quite the couple.”

“I’m sure you miss her terribly.”

Gwayne’s shoulders tensed. “In truth, it has been so long that I have forgotten what her presence felt like.”

That had made her frown even more. “I understand.”

He nodded. “It is difficult. Trying to remember a parent you hardly knew.”

Y/N’s eyes watered. “Quite.” Taking a deep breath, she turned towards her husband, her voice low. “You look like the very image of her. Your mother.”

He smiled. “Is that a compliment, dear wife?”

She blushed, shrugging as nonchalantly as she could. “She is quite beautiful.”

“Ah.” Gwayne was now fully grinning. “The same could be said about you.”

Her blush vanished, and she shoved him away, rolling her eyes playfully. “Do not tease me, Gwayne Hightower.”

His hand grasped his heart, following after her like a lost puppy. “I would never.”

The Oldtown Library was the very picture of tranquility. Lord and Lady Hightower had chosen to take advantage of the quiet day, and had been simply enjoying each other’s company for hours. It was so rare to have this time together, and Y/N enjoyed knowing that at any moment, she could call out to her husband and he would answer.

She hoped he felt the same.

Her legs ached, having been in this position for so long had caused one of them to go numb. Stretching her legs, she walked over to the bookshelf, scouring for a novel she had read in King’s Landing. She groaned, crossing her arms in annoyance. Of course, the novel was on the tallest shelf.

Reaching up, she made herself as tall as possible, but it was no use. She huffed, whipping around to ask Gwayne for help.

It was like he had already read her mind, because she ran into his solid chest, gasping at the sudden impact. She knew her cheeks were bright red, but she still looked up at his piercing gaze.

He smirked, whispering. “Would you like some help?”

“I-” She bit her lip. “My book. I fear it is too high for me to reach.”

“I believe…” He reached up, staring at her all the while. “That I can be of some assistance.” The book was in his grasp, but she made no move to pull it out of his hands.

“Thank you.” She whispered back. Her back was now fully against the bookshelf, Gwayne inches away from her. “Are you- Are you quite alright, my lord?”

Gods, she was perfection itself, her tone sending shivers down his spine. “What have I told you about calling me my lord?” He sighed, leaning his forehead against hers. “As of late, I find myself…”

She nodded, eager for him to continue. “Yes?”

“I- I find myself wanting for you. Wanting to be near you, wanting to feel your touch…” He laughed. “It is quite intoxicating. You have captivated me, body and soul.”

She felt as if her very skin was on fire. Her heart skipped, Gods, is this what marriage was like? She wanted to capture his lips against hers and bring him to bed. “Gwayne… I-” Of course, doubts flew through her mind. How many women had he said this to before? How many more would he say this to during their marriage? “You do not mean that.”

“I-” He tilted his head. “I do not mean that you have-”

“I am not… you don’t-” Her eyes started to tear up. “Gwayne, I am not-”

He leaned down, capturing her in a passionate kiss. Her eyes widened, and she sighed, falling into his arms, which tightened around her waist every moment they kissed. “You are. Gods, if I could worship you, I would-”

She placed a finger over his lips, silencing him. “Do not say such things.”

He removed her finger from her mouth, kissing her hand gently. “You will find, dear wife, that I am not a liar. You are as divine as the-”

Her finger found its way back over his lips. She laughed at his expression, still as calm and patient as the day she met him. There was something new however, a passion she hadn’t seen before. “You- Do you have any idea the things I-” She squeezed her eyes shut, telling herself to be brave. “Just-” She surged forward, pulling him back down into her lips.

His eyes widened, but he did not fight her, if anything, he had pulled her closer. His arms felt perfect around her waist, she’d thought as his thumb caressed her ribcage. He pulled away from her lips, whispering. “What have I done to deserve you?”

She sucked a breath in. “I- I need to go.”

His eyebrows furrowed, loosening his grip. “Are you alright?”

“I just-” She nodded, smiling weakly. “I have a meeting with Lady Redwyne, she-” She turned away, walking towards the door. “Have a good evening, My lord.”

Avoiding your husband was not for the faint of heart. Or so she had told herself as she actively avoided her own. Out of embarrassment or lack of self control, she didn’t know. She felt overwhelmed by his affection for her, overwhelmed when he looked at her with that passionate gaze that made her knees shake. In a moment of weakness (some would say loneliness), she caved, storming into his chambers. It was the middle of the night, the air chilly as she pulled the robe closer to her body. Perhaps she should have made herself more appeasing, but she hadn’t cared.

She stood by his fireplace, pacing back and forth as she waited for him to return. Her mind started to wonder, where was he at this late hour? She couldn’t blame him, many husbands strayed from their wives.

“Y/N?”

She straightened her posture, facing him hesitantly. “Gwayne.”

“Is everything alright? Are you-” He paused, his eyes taking in her figure. “Did you walk through the tower like this?”

“I-” She smiled weakly. “It was merely from my chambers to yours. I- I made certain no one…” Her voice grew quieter as he walked closer. “Saw me.” He said nothing, and her resolve began to crumble. “I know this is unexpected, but please. Say something- anything would-”

“You look… ravishing.” He swallowed, eyes trained on her. “What have I done to deserve this beauty before me?”

She gulped, trying to ignore the way her heart skipped. “I thought I would apologize. For my absence as of late.”

“Ah.” He nodded, inches away from her. “While I can admit I’ve missed your presence, there is nothing to apologize for.” He looked over her figure once more, lazily draping an arm over her waist. “Have I told you you look ravishing?”

She nodded, crossing her arms. “Yes, you have. I have not barged into your room to be made a fool.”

“You have not made yourself a fool.” He pulled her closer, a gasp leaving her lips. “I am the fool.”

“How are you-” He lunged down, pulling her lips to his.

“I now realize that I have not made you aware of how beautiful you are.” He shook his head, walking them toward the bed. “Allow me to show you.”

“Gwayne! What-” He threw her on the bed, hovering over her.

“You are as radiant as the sun.” He pulled the ties of her robe slowly, heart hammering at the mere thought of her. “You are-”

“Wait.” She stopped, sitting up. “Can I-”

He nodded. “Have I-”

She climbed his waist, straddling him in an instant. Her hand found her way to his cheek, caressing it softly as she whispered. “I wanted to say that I- I find myself wanting you too.”

He grinned, pulling her close. “I’m glad.” Her robe barely hid her figure, with both shoulders fallen and the rest being held up by sheer will. She leaned her forehead against his, pulling at the robe until it gave way. “You-”

Her cheeks were bright red, but she did not break eye contact with him, leaning in closer with each passing second. “Gwayne…”

“Yes?” He whispered, their lips inches apart.

“I know husbands stray… from their wives. But may you-” She leaned closer to his lips, whispering back. "May you pretend I am the only one?”

His eyes widened, and he laughed. “Oh, my darling girl.” He kissed down her neck, around her face, everywhere, smiling as she giggled from his affection. “You will always be the only one. Trust me.”

Her heart skipped. "I do."

"Good." He grinned, leaning forward. "Good."

The sun peeked through the curtains, streaming over the couple. Their legs were tangled together, their arms haphazardly thrown over the other, dead to the world.

Or rather, Gwayne was dead to the world. Y/N watched her husband sleep, staring at his beautiful face, trying to commit it to memory. His freckles were light, but very much visible this close. She reached up, gently pushing his hair out of his eyes. Kissing his forehead gently, she rolled over so she could begin her day.

Gwayne's arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back into his chest. “And just where are you off to?”

She laughed, turning in his arms to face him once more. “You’re awake.”

He nuzzled his face into the pillow, groaning. “I must say, I’m quite surprised you are.”

She scoffed, hitting his chest indignantly. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He looked up, smirking. “You were asleep before I could-”

She slapped a hand over his mouth. “You are much too bold this morning, ser.”

“Ser?” He raised an eyebrow, pulling her with him as he rolled over, causing a symphony of laughter to leave her. “I beg you, do not ever call me ser again.”

“If you insist.” She giggled, kissing his neck gently. “My lord.”

He hummed, closing his eyes. “You are glowing, did you know?”

“That would be the morning sun, my dear.” Y/N smirked.

He shook his head, his face serious. “You are always glowing.” A hand caressed her cheek, resting on her jaw as he stared. “As beautiful as the summer breeze.”

“Gwayne…” She knew her cheeks were bright red. “You flatter me.”

“No.” He shook his head. “It is the truth.” Looming over her now, he kissed down her neck. “Say it.”

“Say what?” She whispered.

“Say you are beautiful and I shall stop.”

“But…” She gasped as he pulled the sheet down to reveal her figure. “What if I do not want you to stop?”

“Well then…” Gwayne smirked. “We are at a stand still.”

She shook her head, pulling him toward her. “No, we are not.”

He grinned. “Then say it.”

“I-” She gulped, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck as he trailed down her frame once more. “I’m beautiful.”

Kings Landing felt different, she had told herself while they walked into her mother’s birthday dinner. Perhaps it was the fact that she was walking through her childhood home with her husband, but she felt confident, prideful even. It was a small, intimate gathering, with only her and Gwayne’s family present.

And by Gwayne’s family, she meant his sister.

The seating arrangements could not have been more unfortunate, with Y/N sitting opposite of her despicable uncle.

“I must say…” Aegon whispered. “It is so nice to see you returned a woman grown.” He leaned forward, smirking. “Perhaps later…”

Y/N scowled. “I dare you to finish that sentence.”

Rhaenyra smiled, standing up and addressing her family. “It warms my heart to have my family gathered for this celebration.” She looked over at her daughter, eyes watering ever so slightly. “Thankfully, my firstborn, my heir, was also able to be in attendance.” She raised her glass. “I’m glad you were able to join us. It has been too long, my darling.”

Y/N laughed. “It has hardly been five moons since my departure, Mother.”

“Yes, well…” Rhaenyra sat down, looking over at Gwayne. “How does my daughter fare in Oldtown?”

“Wonderfully, Your Majesty.” He looked down at his wife, smiling brightly. “She is the perfect Lady Hightower, I must say.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, smacking his arm playfully. “You flatter me, Husband.”

“I am merely telling the truth.” Gwayne laughed. “I dare say we have not had such a Lady since my dear mother.”

Alicent’s face dropped, and Y/N smacked his arm harder. “Gwayne…”

Aegon leaned across the table, sneering at his Uncle. “I must say, I’m quite surprised to see you so inexplicably happy. I’ve heard she can be quite the-”

Jace slammed his fist on the table, silencing the room. “Watch your mouth.”

The platinum blonde sat back, raising his hands up in surrender. “I’m merely enlightening my Uncle, Jace.”

“Why don’t you-”

“It is quite alright, Jace.” Y/N hissed, smiling lightly. “It was a jest.” Gwayne grabbed her hand under the table, caressing the back gently.

Aegon looked unsatisfied. “All I meant to say is that I’m quite surprised you have found love in such a short time.” He looked over at Gwayne, wiggling his eyebrows. “Is she rather-”

It was now Y/N’s turn to slam her fist on the table. Standing up, she glared at her Uncle, grasping Gwayne’s hand tightly. “I am sorry, Uncle, that you do not know what it is to respect your spouse. I am also sorry that you wouldn’t know love if it stood right in front of you.” She gulped, realizing the entirety of her family was now staring at her. “My husband is a good man, unlike the tales I have heard of you and my poor Aunt. Gwayne is kind and caring and-” She huffed. “I have never loved someone more. I pity you, I really do. Never knowing what true unconditional love feels like because you deny yourself every chance of happiness.” Sitting back down quickly, she grabbed her wine, taking a large drink. Her mother stared, a hand over her mouth that Y/N could only assume was holding back laughter. Her brothers looked shocked, shocked that she was so defensive over a man she hardly knew.

But she did know him, and he knew her much better than anyone. The chatter started up soon after, but she was frozen in her seat, refusing to see her husband’s reaction. She had never-

She looked up, jumping when she met his eyes immediately. “I’m sorry if I-”

Gwayne stood up, grabbing her hand. “Follow me.”

“Gwayne.” She hissed, “They’re staring-” He walked out of the room, refusing to acknowledge the prying eyes of their family. “Gwayne, I’m sorry if I upset you. I just- I couldn't take it anymore. He drives me-”

Pulling her into their shared chambers, he slammed the door behind him. She walked out of his hold, hugging herself as she watched him stare at her. “Say something, please. I truly am… I am sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

He stalked forward, grabbing her face and pulling her to him. Her eyes widened, knees weakening at the passion that exuded from his kiss. They stayed latched to each other for what seemed like minutes, ignoring the world around them.

“You are an angel, I am convinced.”

Y/N laughed. “I love you.”

Gwayne grinned, kissing her quickly. “I love you much more, my love.”

She shook her head, basking in his affection. “I do not think that is possible.”

He groaned, laying his head on her shoulder. “Must we go back to dinner?”

She nodded, raking her fingers through his hair. “I’m afraid so.”

He shook his head. “Your mother will have to forgive me.”

She laughed. “For what, my love?”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, throwing her over his shoulder. “I must spend time with my lovely wife at this very moment, or I shall combust.”

Y/N giggled, smacking his back. “Gwayne!”

He threw her on the bed, laughing at her flushed cheeks. “You are simply divine.” Crawling up to her lips like a lion to its prey, he practically growled. “I could stare at you for hours.”

Y/N smirked, wrapping her arms around his neck as she whispered. “Perhaps you could show me how divine I am instead.”

“I believe, dear wife…” He pulled the string at the front of her dress, removing her topcoat. “That can be arranged.”

taglist: @beebeechaos @i-padfootblack-things

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #team black #team green #alicent hightower #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #x reader #fanfiction #got #got fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #hotd fluff #literature #hotd angst #angst #🪩! fics

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missadangel · 15 days ago

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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XXIII. Farewell (Smut!18+!MDNI)

“Prope quaere amicum, propius hostem”

Seek your friend near, your enemy closer.

When you arrived at Palatine Hill with Marcus, you noticed that Geta's imperial carriage had already arrived. As soon as you stepped into the courtyard, Commander Darius recognized you and approached. He informed Marcus that Julia and Geta were already in the great hall, clearly aware of the plan as well.

As you made your way toward the hall, Marcus and you heard voices coming from inside. He muttered, “Your Aunt Antonia must be here already.” He then quickened his pace.

“Why would she come here?” you asked.

Marcus glanced at you as the guards opened the door. “You'll find out soon enough, my lady. Don’t tire yourself; I’ll handle the talking,” he said, stepping in ahead of you.

As you entered, everyone turned to look at you. It was clear that Geta and his mother were in the middle of an argument. Your aunt was standing on the right side of the hall, with two members of the Senate. After exchanging a glance with Marcus, she looked at you and smiled, but you couldn't smile back; the tension in the hall was palpable, making it impossible not to feel it.

“You!” Julia pointed her finger at Marcus, her anger palpable. “You all played a game against me! How dare you!” Then she turned to you, her body trembling with rage. “It’s all your fault!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. In a swift motion, she grabbed the sword from the waist of one of the guards beside her. The guard was taken by surprise; perhaps it was Julia’s authority as empress that caused him to hesitate for that brief moment. But by then, it was too late for him to realize he had made a mistake.

Yes, it was a mistake that he allowed her to easily draw his sword from his belt while she attempted to attack you with it. However, this action was absurd and futile, especially considering that Marcus was standing right next to you. Before you could even react to Julia’s clumsy attack, Marcus quickly grabbed your wrist, pulled you behind him, and stood in front of you as a shield. Meanwhile, Geta firmly grabbed her mother by the arm and shook her until she dropped the sword.

“What do you think you’re doing? How far are you going to go? Are you really my mother? Look at you! I can’t even recognize you! You’ve lost it!” Geta roared.

“Can’t you see they set me up? And all because of this girl!” She pointed a finger at you, and you reacted by rolling your eyes.

“Enough!” Geta shouted, enraged.

Your aunt Antonia looked at you and Marcus, then breathed a sigh of relief before turning to Julia. "You speak as if we were holding you responsible for something you didn't do, Lady Domna. Did you think you wouldn't be held accountable for your actions? Your day of judgement has come; you can no longer escape justice. You will pay for what you have done. All of Rome will know what you have done to my sister, and your reputation will be ruined.”

For some reason, you found a strange satisfaction in the desperation in Julia’s gaze as she glanced at the council members beside her. After all, she deserved it.

Antonia continued, addressing the council members. “Your Majesty, the consuls, who are close friends of your father, are here to testify about your mother’s involvement in the death of my sister, Empress Marciana.”

"Tell me everything; I want to know it all,” Geta said, casting you an evasive look. It was clear that he was very upset about the terrible actions his mother had taken. One by one, the consuls recounted what Julia had done. Hearing the details again made your chest tighten, and your legs trembled. If Marcus hadn't been holding your hand, you might have collapsed. After absorbing what had happened, Geta looked at his mother with a disgusted expression and declared her crimes, pronouncing judgment on her. As a result, Julia was sentenced to exile. You witnessed your aunt’s face as Julia was forced out of the hall by the guards, despite her protests and shouts, and you realized that she was enjoying it. Yes, Julia certainly deserved the punishment, but you couldn't bring yourself to smile with joy at her plight; it felt wrong, especially when Geta appeared so sad.

As Antonia and the council members left the hall, Marcus approached Geta.

“Emperor Geta, I know this might not seem like the perfect moment, but there’s a crucial matter we must discuss—something you need to know.”

Geta frowned as he handed him the message from Elagabalus.

“I’ll be outside,” you said, glancing at the two of them.

“You don’t have to leave, sister. You can stay-”

“With your permission, Your Majesty, I need to speak to my aunt alone.”

He nodded with a smile and began reading the message. You exchanged a look with Marcus, then turned and left the hall, leaving the two of them alone.

Your aunt was outside, talking to two Senate members, and she looked quite pleased. You approached them, “Could you please leave us alone?” You fixed your gaze on them, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with everyone who knew the truth about your mother’s death and had kept it hidden from you all this time.

"Aurelia, my beautiful niece," Antonia said, smiling at you. "I told you we would get rid of Julia, and now we have as I promised. That whore finally got what she deserved.”

"I wish you had told me about the plan; maybe I could have helped." You said, you were curious about her response, but you had a feeling you already knew what she would say. Her answer confirmed your guess.

"You might be right, but your husband, General Acacius, wanted to keep you out of it. He is very protective of you, dear."

"He is indeed.” You nodded. “But I don't think he was pleased when you told him about your plan."

"You're right; he didn't like it, but he also wanted to get rid of Julia. After all, she posed a threat to his own son—and to you, my dear.”

“It’s not hard to imagine how you convinced him. But what if the plan hadn’t worked? What if Geta was someone who didn’t trust Acacius? Have you ever considered what could have happened to my husband then?”

She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I understand your concern, but he values and respects Acacius. Besides, I’m sure he would never do anything to upset you.”

You sighed. “That’s the real reason, isn’t it? You wanted me involved in the plan because you wanted to use his feelings for me to your advantage.”

A confident expression appeared on her face. “If you had gone to Geta and told him everything, he would have believed you, and everything would have been easier. But I knew you wouldn’t do that because I can see that you care about him too. That left me with no choice but to make this plan.”

“You don’t care, do you? Not about Geta’s disappointment, his sadness, or even the danger Acacius has put himself in. All you wanted was Julia.”

“That’s true, and I won’t deny it. Aurelia, all I care about is you and Marcius. Your brother is not someone I will concern myself with, and your husband is a good soldier; he can take care of himself.”

“But he’s the only one I truly care about. Look, you’re my aunt, and I care for you like a mother, but I don’t want you to involve my husband in any dangerous plans without my knowledge again. He’s more precious to me than anyone else, and I’m just as protective of him as he is of me. Please understand that."

Antonia nodded, but her expression was not very pleased.

You soon noticed Nerissa approaching you, accompanied by several slaves. One of them was cradling her son in her arms. You looked at him and smiled.

“My Empress,” you greeted her, and she returned your smile, though it was short-lived. “How is my little dove?”

You reached out your hands to take the baby from the slave, but she hesitated. It quickly became clear why; she was waiting for Nerissa's approval. After glancing at her, she nodded, and she handed the child to you. You cradled him in your arms and gently stroked his blonde hair. “Is Geta still insisting on not naming him yet?” you asked.

"Hopefully he will soon; it's just not the right time yet. We don't have much alone time, you know. His Majesty has been very busy lately." There was something unsettling in her tone. "By the way, could you tell me what happened to Lady Domna? I'm sure you know why the guards were taking her away, since you're here.”

You kissed your nephew on the head, noticing that he had fallen asleep in your arms. “Geta will tell you all about it; don’t worry about that.”

“I doubt he'll tell me,” she replied, holding out her hands to you. Reluctantly, you handed your nephew over to her mother, wishing you could keep him a little longer. After taking him, she returned him to the slaves and gestured for them to leave. Once she was sure it was just the two of you, she approached you, her expression more serious than you had ever seen before.

“Aurelia, don’t you think you visit him too often these days?”

What was that supposed to mean? I had only seen him once or twice since the wedding.

“I’m not sure how you mean.”

“Let me be absolutely clear. I do not want to see you here. I insist that you refrain from coming unless it is a serious or important matter. This is not good for him, and I am determined to ensure that my marriage remains intact. You understand what I mean, do you not?”

“Nerissa, why are you—”

She interrupted, rolling her eyes."Gods above, Aurelia, don't pretend you don't know how he feels about you. I'm not naive, I can see everything.""Nerissa, I..." You gave a troubled sigh. "Look, he'll realise he's making a mistake eventually. He'll notice your love. You need to be patient and—"

She shook her head. "But that's not going to happen if you're always around him. Help me. Stay away from him. Please.”

She took your hand and looked at you with pleading eyes. “Please, Aurelia.”

Although you were upset, you nodded in response. She quickly pulled her hand back at the sound of approaching footsteps. Marcus was coming toward you, accompanied by Darius. You cast a furtive glance at him, and Nerissa turned away. They both bowed to her as she walked into the great hall. You could sense Marcus's curious gaze upon you, so you took a moment to gather yourself and smiled at him.

“My lady, are you ready to leave now?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yes, General, let’s take our leave, please.”

Darius bowed his head as he departed.

Marcus leaned closer and asked, “Are you not feeling well?”

You took his arm and gently rubbed it with your hand. “It's been a long day. I want to go home and rest.”

He nodded. “Let’s leave then.”

Eight months later.

With each passing day and every fleeting month, your belly swelled and rounded. The gentle kicks and fluttering movements reminded you of the warmth of the little one nestled inside, growing, and so did your son, Marcius. At first, he learned how to sit, then he managed to crawl on the floor, then he managed to stand by holding onto the furniture around him. One day, he finally took his first step toward his father, who was sitting at his desk, smiling widely in return and cheering for him.

His first words also came out slowly during this time. When he called you "mother" for the first time, he may have spoken inaccurately since it sounded like “ma-ma” and probably not consciously, but it was enough to bring you to tears. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard, and you knew it was a moment you would never forget.

When Marcus was at home, he would hold his little hand and take him on fun walks around the villa. They’d often head over to the stables to check out the horses, their shiny coats glimmering in the sun. Those times together were the absolute best, filled with laughter as he soaked up every moment with his son.

The little one, who had nearly all his teeth, seemed to enjoy every bite of food and every morsel. Watching him grow was a real joy, like waking up to a new happiness each day. The villa, which had been quiet, was now full of life. It was alive with giggles and the delightful sounds of a growing child, transforming the space into a vibrant home filled with love and bliss.

As time went on, Marcus found himself extremely busy implementing extensive measures against a potential threat. His diligent efforts succeeded in persuading some of Elagabalus' allies to withdraw their support; however, the threat had not yet been fully neutralized. Consequently, Marcus decided to collaborate with his legates to devise a strategic plan aimed at permanently eliminating the threat. The possibility of war became increasingly apparent and eventually seemed inevitable. After a period of tranquility, a series of disturbing events began to unfold. Elagabalus, with the support of the Carthaginians, re-established alliances with the Gauls to strengthen his position and ultimately succeeded in seizing the southern region, targeting Numidia.

Two months later, following a rebellion in the region, news arrived of the execution of the Roman governor. The Numidians officially recognized Elagabalus as emperor. Unfortunately, this was not the worst of the news; the most troubling information came from the southern legions. All the southern legions, including Marcus' legion, were neutralized, forced into submission.

Marcus was devastated by this news, hardly eating or drinking for two days. You were very concerned for him. With your significant support, he ultimately began to feel better and regained his composure. Subsequently, he proceeded to develop a comprehensive action strategy without delay. He began to visit Palatine Hill and the Fields of Mars nearly every day, often staying until late at night. The situation was more serious than anyone had realized, and if immediate action was not taken, the consequences for Rome could be irreversible.

At that time, news came from Palatine Hill about Geta, who had been poisoned. Marcus spoke with Commander Darius about Geta's condition, recalling similar incidents in the past. They decided to collaborate on a solution before word of this reached the public. You were deeply concerned about Geta and wanted to go and see him, cure him. However, your growing belly and frequent cramps made it difficult for you to do so. Besides, Marcus did not want you to go anywhere after what happened during your last childbirth.

So, you decided to summon Hanno for his healing. Marcus agreed and took him to Palatine Hill himself, knowing that Hanno was better than all the medicii in the palace.

It soon became clear that the poisoning was caused by a fish dish that Geta had eaten, leading to a collective sigh of relief as it was confirmed that the incident was unintentional.

However, everyone involved in cooking and preparing the food was still punished.

You decided to visit Geta because you felt uneasy and were still haunted by Nerissa's recent behavior towards you. She had become a completely different person now, and trust was no longer in the equation. You wanted to believe you were mistaken—maybe you were exaggerating—but deep down, you knew you couldn’t be certain. You recognized that you had a great opportunity to pursue something you had been considering.

You visited him and spoke with Geta about Hanno and asked him to stay in the palace as a medicus. Geta agreed, especially because Hanno was the one who had healed him. However, Hanno initially resisted the idea. When you reminded him that Vicius had once served as a medicus there, he found it hard to refuse and ultimately agreed as well. This duty was perfect for Hanno, as you wanted to ensure he wouldn't be involved in anything that could endanger his life further.

Moreover, you sought to have Hanno at the palace to oversee the well-being of Geta and your nephew, as he would serve as a reliable source of information regarding any potential threats or concerns. Although Marcus was not entirely keen on the idea, he admitted that he was surprised and even looked proud as he complimented you on your intelligence.

It was also during this time that Decima and Octavius were married in a joyous ceremony held in your villa. Decima often came to the villa during the day to see you and Marcius, as her husband had been as busy as yours of late. She was happy to be married, and you were happy to see her so. After that week, the midwife came to examine you and told you that you might go into labour in a fortnight. She was almost sure it would be a girl this time. You didn't like her smug talk, but you felt like you were going to have a daughter, too.

However, it was Marcus who was the happiest about this news.

On a night when the moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow that illuminated everything below. You woke up in the quiet, feeling hungry. This discomfort had become a familiar companion, echoing the restless nights that had plagued you of late. Shadows danced across the walls as you blinked your eyes, unable to sleep.

Each night was filled with interruptions. Sometimes, it was the urgent call of nature that pulled you from your sleep; other times, it was the gnawing hunger in your stomach demanding attention. And then there was Marcius, whose cries served as an unmistakable reminder of his needs. Because of this, you often found yourself sleeping during the daylight hours.

You slowly opened your eyes, blinking against the dim glow of the bluish moonlight cascading through the window, filtering softly between the curtains. The light flickered blissfully on the ends of Marcus's curls, creating a halo around his sleeping form, while the shadows obscured the details of his face. You could still make out the gentle rise and fall of his chest, a reassuring rhythm in the tranquil stillness of the night. You sighed, admiring his charm. You could watch him sleeping like that forever.

A sudden heavy pressure stirred deep within your stomach, soon morphing into an overwhelming wave of hunger that washed over you like a tide. With great effort, you propped yourself up in bed, carefully pushing aside one of the pillows that Marcus had arranged under your arm for comfort. Each movement felt cumbersome, the weight of your large belly making even the simplest gestures a challenge. As a sharp cramp seized your stomach, you let out a soft moan, the sound barely escaping your lips. The sound roused Marcus, who, ever the light sleeper, opened his eyes in an instant, concern etching itself across his face.

"My love?’"

"Oh, apologies, I didn’t mean to wake you."

"Do you have to go to the latrina again?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep, eyes blinking slowly as they adjusted to the dimness.

"No, not this time, I...’"

He sat up, the sheets slipping down to his waist, and placed a warm hand on your back, his fingers brushing gently against your skin. "What’s wrong, Aurelia?"

"I can't sleep because I'm hungry," you confessed, your voice almost a whisper, tinged with shyness. It felt strange to mention, especially since it had only been a few hours since dinner.

Marcus chuckled softly. "You're saying that like you’ve committed a crime." He bent down and placed a tender kiss on the top of your head. His masculine scent gave you butterflies in your stomach, but your hunger outweighed your desire. "I’ll get something for you. What does my beautiful wife want to eat?’"

You shrugged pursing your lips. "It doesn’t matter; I just need to fill my stomach."

He grinned as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Alright, I’ll bring you whatever I can find."

As he approached the door, you whispered softly to avoid waking Marcius. "Marcus."

He paused, turning back to look at you.

"Can you get some figs too? I’m craving them."

His laughter rang out like music in the quiet night. "Whatever you wish, my princess.”

Not long afterwards Marcus returned to the room with a tray full of food. You reacted to him by clapping your hands gleefully. "You're the best husband; I am a very fortunate woman indeed."

He sat down beside you and kissed your cheek. "You can't be more fortunate than I am," he replied.

As you enjoyed your meal, he sat beside you, peeled the figs, and placed them in front of you for you to eat. In just a few minutes, you had nearly finished everything on the tray, while Marcus observed you with curiosity and with a smile on his face. Suddenly, you felt a wave of embarrassment. "I ate like a savage, not like a lady, didn't I?”

"And I’m sure I don’t look beautiful like this," you said, teasing him.

You expected him to laugh in response, but instead, his gaze deepened, filled with something more intense. He gently brushed the sticky honey from the corner of your lip with his thumb, an intimate gesture that sent a thrill through you. "On the contrary," he murmured, his voice low and sincere, "I find you even more beautiful like this. You possess a beauty that transcends appearances—one that enchants me in any form.”

You were captivated by his deep, dark brown eyes, and time seemed to stand still as you gazed into their depths. In that moment, the spoon slipped from your grasp, and a golden stream of honey cascaded down onto your upper sternum, gleaming in the soft light. Marcus let out a soft, playful chuckle, his voice a warm whisper that sent shivers down your spine as he leaned closer. The heat of his breath enveloped you, tantalizingly brushing against the delicate skin above your breasts. With deliberate intention, he traced his warm tongue over the honey that had dripped, the sensation igniting a rush of warmth that made your heartbeat quicken and your breathing deepen.

When he pulled away, he grinned and licked his lips. “Mmm, sweet, but nothing compares to the taste of you.” He said, pulling you closer and kissing you. When your tongues touched, you moaned as you could taste the honey on his saliva. You tossed the spoon onto the tray and wrapped your arms around his neck, fully immersing yourself in his embrace. You wondered if he was aware of his own masculine scent and the incredible taste he possessed. Kissing him was so pleasurable that it induced a state of dizzying bliss, as if time itself were slowing down while you explored the depths of his mouth. As your tongue delicately traced the contours of his, he responded with a deep, resonant growl, his hands firmly cradling your hips. Your legs were on either side of him now and you were practically astride him. Your big belly was getting in the way a bit, preventing you from wrapping him completely. But Marcus didn't mind; he wanted you naked and grinding on him straight away, in the most convenient way. He realized he should have approached the moment with more tenderness, yet the intense waves of desire washed over him, leaving him breathless and disoriented. In that instant, he made a decision about perfect position to take you. He pulled his head back, breaking the kiss, his dark brown eyes burning you to the core.

“What is it?” you gasped, your eyes dazzled, your hair a chaotic tangle, partly obscuring your face.

He took your hands, leaned back on the bed, and pulled you down on top of him.

“Lift the hem of your tunic,” he said, his tone almost commanding.

You hesitated for just a moment before you started to gather the fabric.

“Show me,” he urged, breathing heavily.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“Bring it up here.” He licked his lips, and heat flooded your face.

"Um..."

“Come and sit on my face, Aurelia.” He sounded impatient.

“But Marcus,” You murmured, but he was past caring.

“Now,” he rumbled deep in his chest.

"Impatient, I see," you giggled. As you lifted the skirts of your tunic, leaving yourself completely exposed from the waist down, he quickly got out of his own clothes and lay back down, even more eager and impatient than before. The dull, almost painful throb of his length needed relief. He took himself in hand and groaned as you parted your knees and showed him your pretty slit.

“Perfect,” he whispered as if he saw for the first time.

Actually, the thing is he couldn't find an oppurtunity to get inside you because he had been incredibly busy for a few days. And that was the only thing he craved right now. “So beautiful.” And it was. So perfect and beautiful that he had to take a deep breath for an instant or he would have released at just the sight of you. He slid his hand up his throbbing shaft and squeezed the tip hard. He didn’t want to spend himself on the sheets, he wanted to release deep inside you, inside his wife.

“Marcus?”

“Darling wife, have mercy and give me your sweet taste,” he groaned earthily.

You whimpered as one of his hands grabbed your hip roughly to urge you over his chest. “What if you can't breathe?" you said, noticing it was a very silly thing to say as you bit your lip. “As you can see, I've gained some weight, and—oh!"

"Then I’ll die very happy," he snarled, moaning against your slippery cunt. You tasted so good. He cursed everything that prevented him from tasting you for days.

What the hell had he been thinking?

He dragged his tongue between your slick folds and over your pretty pearl, again and again, delving into your tight sheathe in a tease that had his cock twitching in anticipation. Your wetness maddened him. He held your hips tight as he licked and sucked your cunt, pushing his tongue deeper and deeper. He often whispered how much he loved the sweet, heady taste of you and your cheeks still burned as if you were hearing it for the first time. As you watched the slickness run down his cheeks and glisten on his beard, your shame turned to desire and your skin felt like it was on fire. You moaned as he thrust two fingers inside you, feeling the pressure of his signet ring. It was too much and not enough, the feeling you never wanted to end. You instinctively bent down and grabbed the roots of his hair as his tongue tormented you.

Soon, you found your release, screaming his name as you came. He still hadn’t had his fill when he heard your wail and felt your convulsing around his swirling tongue. Slick gushed from between your cunt, the sheer sensation of it taking your breath away.

He pulled his soaking fingers from you and licked them clean. "My lovely princess," Marcus murmured, his lips red and slightly swollen from his rapt attention to your cunt.

He crawled up and made you sit on his lap, making you wrap your legs around him.

He grinned at your big belly. "Will you be comfortable if I take you like this?" He asked softly, drawing kisses across your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, and your plump lips, while his fingers gripped the straps of your tunic tightly and pulled the fabric down your shoulders.

You nodded while tasting yourself as his tongue slipped between your lips, tangling with your own. He held you close as he rolled onto his back and positioned you above him. You were wet enough to straddle him, rubbing yourself against his length, making him groan. You had to stifle your own scream, remembering you were not alone in the room as you pressed yourself against him. You liked to ride him a lot, enjoying how his hands supported your hips and how deep his cock felt inside your walls.

He was too, enjoying a lot as he rocked his hips against yours, feeling as if he was much younger than he was. There were almost two decades between you, his hair showing silver streaks that marked his age as just over forty, while you were only two years past girlhood. He was so eager and strong in making love to you that his age was no obstacle to him. That was something that would never tire him out, not ever. Yet, he often found himself wishing that he had crossed paths with you during his younger years. For him, every single day without your presence, even those from the past, was nothing but wasted.

Even now, when you were on top of him and he was thrusting himself deeper and deeper into you, kneading your breasts possessively, you could see it in his movements. There was no need for words; his brown eyes revealed his thoughts and emotions with every glance, which only you could truly understand. It wasn’t surprising that his feelings mirrored your own. You were both aware that this could be the last time you shared such intimacy, especially considering the imminent arrival of your second child. As you came together, your pleasure intertwined, and soon you found yourself savouring the last traces of your pleasure when, suddenly, your womb convulsed, and Marcus caught you with a firm grip, preventing you from slumping onto the bed. He sighed as he placed his palm on your chest, feeling the rapid beat of your heart beneath his hand. Gently, he laid you down on the bed and adjusted the pillow under your neck for your comfort. As he spread the sheet over you, he noticed soft movement on your belly, a tender reminder of the life within. He placed his warm hand above your tummy, his touch soothing as he began to speak softly to the little one growing inside you. Gradually, you felt a wave of fatigue wash over you, and with each soothing word of his, you surrendered to the gentle pull of sleep, lulled by the serenity of his presence and the rhythm of his voice.

The next day, Cato arrived at the villa early to deliver news, and Marcus left without even having breakfast. Marcius reacted to his father's departure by crying, so you took him to the stables to calm him down. He had been behaving this way lately; he loved spending time with his father and seemed so happy when they were together. However, whenever his father left the house, he would start to cry. You kept telling him that one day, when he was older, he could go outside with his dad, but he was too young to understand that yet. When his father returned home in the evening, holding him in his arms, Marcius was the happiest he could be. It was heartwarming to see them together like that.

In the afternoon, you sent someone to Palatine Hill to fetch Hanno. You needed to speak with him to find out how Geta was doing. With the birth approaching, you didn't want to leave the house, especially since Nerissa preferred you to stay inside. You had only seen Geta a few times after Julia's funeral, and the last time you spoke with him about Hanno was almost a month ago. He hadn't looked well during that conversation, and you often found yourself worrying about him.

As you were feeding Marcius some fruit, you heard a horse neighing outside, and soon after, Hanno appeared in the courtyard. He smiled as he looked at you and Marcius.

“Hanno, or should I call you Lucius now?” you asked.

He grinned. “I still can't get used to that name.”

You pointed to the lectus and gestured for him to sit. “You’re a Roman citizen now; you should get used to it.”

He took his bag off his shoulder, sat down across from you, and sighed. “It still feels like a joke,” he said, waving his hand at Marcius.

“You've grown a lot since I've seen you, little man,” you replied.

Marcius mumbled something and handed Hanno a grape. Lucius smiled at him as he put the grape in his mouth and chewed it. Marcius clapped, and you joined in the laughter.

“He likes you,” you said.

Lucius reached out, picked him up, and sat him on his lap. “I like him too.” He then looked at your belly. “How do you feel?”

“I'm fine; I'm just having trouble sleeping.”

“What does the midwife say? Is everything going well?”

‘Nothing to worry about. “We’re just waiting now; let’s hope Marcius’ brother or sister arrives soon.”

Lucius opened his bag and took out a wooden carved toy horse, giving it to Marcius. “Here, little friend. I made this for you.”

Marcius seemed happy as he held the wooden toy.

You smiled at him. “That’s very nice, Lucius. Thank you.” You turned Marcius, softly rubbing his head. “Did you like it, my beautiful boy?”He showed the toy, murmured something, and repeatedly bumped it against the floor while playing in his own way.

Lucius reached back into his bag. “Your brother Geta wanted me to give this to you. He said it’s for Marcius.” He held out something wrapped in cloth, and as he handed it to you, a soft tinkling sound emerged from within. You unwrapped the cloth and discovered a pair of gold bracelets along with a note.

“These bracelets were the first gifts my father, Septimius Severus, bestowed upon me. I am passing them on to my nephew, so he can wear them as he grows into a remarkable young man.”

You took a moment to reflect as you examined the bracelets. They exhibited a level of elegance and were embellished with meticulous craftsmanship that is typically reserved for members of royalty, particularly a prince.

Lucius leaned toward you.

“Are you alright?”

You didn’t realize you were crying until he asked. You nodded as you wiped away your tears. “I just realized I miss Geta; it’s been a long time. Is he doing well?”

He looked away.

“Has something happened to him?” You suddenly noticed you were short of breath, which had been happening a lot lately.

"Calm down, Aurelia. He is well. He has been getting tired recently, and there have been a lot of consuls coming and going from the palace. I saw them arguing with the empress the other day."

"Why were they arguing?"

"I'm not certain, but there are a lot of rumors about them. Slaves love gossip."

"What rumors?"

“Nonsense, don't worry about it right now.”

“Please, tell me.”

He huffed in response. “They claim they don’t sleep in the same room, you know. It’s probably a lie—just stupid gossip.”

You wondered why Nerissa would treat Geta that way.

“What about my nephew?”

“He's fine, don’t worry. He seems to be getting ready to take his first step, but he’s not as eager as Marcius,” he said, stroking her head.

“I miss him so much,” you said, pursing your lips.

“Please be patient a little longer. Do not attempt to go anywhere in this situation.”

“That’s why I sent for you,” you replied, laughing at him.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure if I’m a fighter, a medicus, or your informant anymore.”

You squinted at him. “Or, are you unhappy serving your princess?”

He grinned. “Not at all, your highness. But now that I’m free, I say I...”

“What is it?”

"I want to return to Alexandria," he said in a low tone.

You felt a tightness in your chest. "What? But why? Aren't you happy here?"

"I am, but they say the whole southern region is about to erupt in chaos soon, and there’s someone I need to see. I have to show her that I’m still alive."

You raised an eyebrow. "Her? Someone special, I suppose?"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, breaking into a shy laugh. "You could say that."

"I see. It's your decision, after all. You're a free man now."You smiled at him faintly, even though your heart felt heavy.

But then, an unexpected sharp pain sliced through your lower abdomen. A contraction gripped you, and your breath caught in your throat.

"Aurelia?" Concern laced his voice.

"Just a contraction," you managed to say between gasps, your breaths coming quicker as you closed your eyes tightly, willing the pain to pass. Yet, to your dismay, a sharper wave of agony crashed over you.

Norell saw you from a distance and rushed toward you. “Domina! My lady!”

It didn't take long for you to realize what was happening as the contractions became stronger and closer together, now even intensified. "The baby's coming," you said with a troubled grin.

Lucius took your other hand. "Are you certain?"

You nodded. "I'm absolutely certain, Lucius!" you shouted, gripping his hand tightly as another contraction struck, sending incredible pain through you. You looked at him with urgency.

"Get the midwife in here!"

The other slaves exchanged worried glances, but then they hurried off towards the quarters where the midwife was staying.

“Can you make it up the stairs, my lady?” one of them asked, eyes wide with concern. You groaned loudly, the sound reverberating through the room as you steadied yourself to stand. “I think I can,” you replied through gritted teeth, summoning every ounce of strength within you. In a swift and decisive movement, Lucius scooped you into his arms, lifting you and carrying you up the stairs.

“You stay with Marcius here!” you shouted to Norell, who nodded in response. You forced a warm smile at Marcius who gazed at you with curious wide eyes, his little brow furrowed with concern.

When Lucius entered the room, he laid you on the bed and propped up several pillows behind you. Moments later, two slaves entered alongside the midwife, their expressions a mix of determination and concern. Then Tullia rushed in, her breath coming in quick, anxious bursts. “My lady!”

“Tullia! I need you to summon my husband immediately!” you commanded.

“I will tell them now, my lady,” Tullia replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “But it may take some time before the general arrives; he mentioned he would be at the barracks.”

“I'll go and fetch him,” Lucius said, his demeanor reassuring. “You don’t need to concern yourself with anything else, alright?”

You reached for his hand, held it tightly. “Thank you, Lucius.”

He smiled at you before leaving room.

The midwife bent down to examine you and asked for permission before lifting your skirts.

“Labour has begun, my lady. We must get ready at once.” She looked at the slaves. “Prepare hot water and clean cloths immediately!”

The slaves scurried from the room, their footsteps echoing as they hurried to fulfill her commands, the tension in the air thickening with each passing second.

“I can’t do this without my husband,” you whimpered. “I need him to be by my side.”

“But I’m afraid the baby can’t wait much longer,” the midwife replied gently, her voice like a soft balm against your fraying nerves. You nodded, swallowing your worry as you desperately wished for Lucius to bring Marcus with him soon.

The soldiers on guard at the imposing entrance gate of the barracks stood alert as they caught sight of a horse and its rider approaching. One of them raised his spear high, the metal glinting in the sun, and shouted, “Halt! Stop right there!”

Lucius expertly pulled on the reins, and the horse reared up, its legs striking the air as he steadied himself. The soldiers scrutinized him intently, their eyes narrowing as they took in his dusty cloak and determined expression.

“No civilians allowed here! Turn back now!” one soldier barked, his voice harsh and commanding.

Lucius met their gazes defiantly, his eyes ablaze with urgency. “I need to see General Acacius! This is important!”

“Are you deaf?” the first soldier snapped back, annoyance creeping into his tone.

The second soldier, sensing the tension, placed a hand on his friend's shoulder to calm him. “Tell us what you need to say; we’ll deliver the message to the general,” he suggested, his voice slightly softer but still firm.

Lucius shifted his mount, turning slightly towards the sturdy wooden doors of the barracks. He refused to dismount, his resolve unwavering despite the soldiers’ barriers. Every second felt precious.

“It’s urgent!” he declared, frustration lacing his words. “What part of that don’t you understand?”

At that moment, a commanding voice echoed from inside the barracks, issuing the order to swing open the heavy iron gate. The soldiers, clad in shining armor that reflected the afternoon sun, moved purposefully toward the entrance. Centurion Verus and a man who Lucius didn't recognise came outside. They were deeply engrossed in hushed whispers, so preoccupied with their conversation that they failed to notice Lucius standing nearby.

“Make sure Acacius doesn’t find out,” Verus murmured, his brow furrowed with concern. "That man is exceptionally clever, which makes me uneasy."

“Don’t worry, sir; everything is going as we discussed,” the other man assured him.

Suddenly, Verus's sharp gaze locked onto Lucius, his body tensing. “What are you looking at?” he snapped, his voice laced with an edge of hostility.

Lucius turned his eyes away; he didn't care about their conversation at all. All he wanted was to reach Acacius, no matter what. Other soldiers brought their horses forward, and Verus and his companion glanced at Lucius before spurring their horses into a rush, dust swirling around their departing figures.

"General Acacius!" Lucius' booming voice through the gate enraged the soldiers.

"How dare you shout like that?"

"I'll cut out that tongue of yours!"

It wasn't the general himself, but someone whom Lucius recognized with relief.

“What is going on here? What is this disgrace?” Octavius barked, a mix of surprise and annoyance crossing his face as he recognized Lucius. “What brings you here?”

“Sir, he insists that he must see the general—”

“Octavius, this is urgent! The general needs to come with me to the villa immediately!”

The soldiers exchanged bewildered glances, their expressions shifting from curiosity to shock as Lucius addressed the general's right-hand man by name. They were further taken aback when Octavius, instead of erupting in anger, maintained an air of smug indifference.

“General Acacius is quite busy at the moment. Just tell me what it is,” Octavius replied, dismissively waving a hand.

Lucius, frustration etched across his face, could no longer contain himself. With a low curse, he dismounted his horse and strode purposefully toward Octavius.

“Aurelia. Lady Aurelia is in labor and has sent for her husband,” he said, lowering his voice and raising his eyebrows for emphasis.

Octavius's entire demeanor shifted at that moment; he went from appearing brave to displaying a sense of urgency as he turned on his heel and rushed back to find Acacius.

The sun was setting as Marcus, Octavius, and Lucius arrived at the villa. While another day came to an end in the city, a new life was about to begin in the villa.

Marcus dismounted from his horse with a rush of excitement, his feet pounding against the cobblestone courtyard as he hurried forward. The urgency of his steps left Octavius and Lucius struggling to keep pace, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern.

Entering the villa, Marcus was immediately met with the startling sound of your anguished cries emanating from upstairs. His heart seized with apprehension, compelling him to dash towards the stairs. Just then, a shrill, yet joyous, baby cry echoed through the corridors, freezing him in his tracks. A broad smile broke across his face as he turned to share this precious moment with Octavius and Lucius, who mirrored his elation.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Marcus raced up the stairs. Bursting into the room, his eyes were drawn to a vision of beauty: a delicate infant cradled in Norell's arms. The soft glow of the dim light highlighted her velvety pink skin and wisps of golden hair that fluttered gently around her tiny head, leaving him utterly mesmerized.

“It’s a girl, General,” Norell announced with a note of triumph in her voice.

A wave of emotion washed over Marcus as he contemplated her words. “A girl,” he thought, his gaze locked on the enchanting child. “A very beautiful girl, just like her mother...” He felt warmth fill his heart, knowing their family was blossoming once more.

Her mother...

He longed to see you before cradling the newborn, but his heart nearly seized as he caught sight of your closed eyes and the deep concern appeared on the midwife's face. “What’s happening? Why are her eyes closed?” he demanded, a frown shadowing his brow as he noticed the blood-soaked cloths clinging to your body while he hurried towards you.

“General, it was a very difficult labor,” the midwife replied, her voice trembling as she fought to maintain her composure. “She lost a lot of blood and must be utterly exhausted.” As Marcus pushed the damp hair from your forehead, the beads of sweat cascading down your face, he called your name softly. But when you remained unresponsive, his concern transformed into palpable desperation.

“She’s not herself! Do something!” His voice erupted, a roar of anguish that reverberated through the room. The midwife touched your cheek with tentative fingers, her heart racing as she swallowed hard.

“My lady!”

Suddenly, the joyful atmosphere in the room shifted to one of concern. Upon hearing the sounds, Lucius hurried upstairs and appeared in the doorway. Marcus looked at him urgently, “Do something, please!”

Lucius quickly approached, opening his bag to retrieve several vials and some cloth. The midwife and the others watched him anxiously, including Norell, who appeared at the door, cradling Marcius in her arms.

Marcus sank onto the edge of the bed beside you, gripping your hand with a fierce intensity that reflected the crushing weight of his helplessness. The world around him blurred, leaving only your still form in focus, and his heart felt as if it were being wrenched apart. “No... Aurelia, please... my love... please...” he whispered, his voice thick with despair; your motionless figure was like a dagger to his soul.

Lucius was taken aback by Marcus's sorrow. In his past as a medic, he had witnessed men shed tears over the woman he loved, but this was unlike anything he had ever seen before. What could make such a strong, sturdy man so miserable if not pure love itself? A love so profound and great that it cast doubt on Lucius's very own affections for the woman he cherished. Fortunately, there was no loss yet. He probed the vein in your neck and was relieved to find a sign that you were alive. He sighed deeply. “She has a pulse, but it’s weak,” he murmured.

“What do you mean? Tell me she's alright!"

Ignoring the urgency in Marcus's tone, Lucius uncorked one of the vials, releasing a pungent aroma that hung in the air. He carefully soaked a rag with the strange liquid and brought it close to your face. At that moment, Marcius looked up and said, “Ma-ma.” The room fell silent; everyone turned to him, tears brimming in their eyes, including Marcus, as hope flickered faintly amidst their despair.

You came to your senses, jolted by a pungent and unpleasant odor that clawed at your nostrils. The sharp scent stirred something deep inside you, and as a medicus, you instantly recognized its purpose.

When you finally opened your eyes, your surroundings came into focus, revealing Marcus' concerned face hovering closely above you. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest as you spotted a single tear glistening on his cheek, cascading down the rugged line of his scar like a painful memory trying to escape.

“Marcus! Why are you...?" you began to ask, but the words faded as vivid images of your last moments rushed back. Panic surged through you, and you gasped. “Has something happened to my baby?”

He gently pressed his hands against your shoulders, stopping your attempt to sit up. His warm embrace wrapped around you like a shield, and he exhaled a shaky breath, burying his face in your hair as he planted plenty of soft kisses on the top of your head.

“The child is fine, my lady. Please don’t worry,” the midwife replied.

Everyone seemed unusual; something had definitely happened. However, once you saw that the baby was well, you didn’t care what it was. You felt incredibly tired to care though.

“Just concentrate on being well yourself,” Lucius said.

You smiled weakly; he was right. He then stood up—being a medicus, he knew what the midwife had to do next. Everyone left the room except for Marcus and midwife. As the midwife carefully wiped the remnants of your labor away with warm, clean water and soft cloths, the slaves rushed to spread fresh, crisp sheets on the bed with deft hands.Through it all, Marcus kept his arms wrapped around you, his grip unyielding and protective. When the time came to dress you in fresh clothes, it was he who gently assisted, his fingers brushing your skin with the tenderness of a feather.

After nursing the baby for the first time, he helped you ease onto the soft bed, then settled in beside you. “You frightened me so much, Aurelia. For a moment, I thought I had lost you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. His fingers danced through your hair, caressing it softly as if he were untangling not just the strands but also the worries that clung to you. Snuggling closer, you nestled your head against his warm collarbone, finding solace within his embrace.

"The baby's neck was wrapped around the cord, and the midwife and I fought desperately to free her. I felt such relief when I finally heard her cry, but exhaustion washed over me, and I must have lost consciousness. Please, don’t worry; we’re both fine now.”

“Thank the gods, my love,” he murmured. “They have spared your life and our daughter’s. I’ve traveled through hell and back to heaven in a single day.”

You kissed his cheek, then turned your head to check Marcius, who was mumbling sweet nothings in his sleep, and then at your daughter— wrapped snugly in her swaddle beside you, her small chest rising and falling with each breath.

"There are four of us in this room now, General. What do you think about that?" you teased, your voice a playful whisper.

His lips curved into a warm smile, the kind that lit up his entire face. “It would be difficult to capture my feelings in mere words. All I can say is that I am the most fortunate man on earth.” You turned your head, locking eyes with him, feeling a rush of warmth. “Marcus, I feel the same. I’m truly the most fortunate woman to have you as my husband, and our children are too since they have a father like you.”

As you stifled a yawn, fatigue tugged at your eyelids, heavy with the weight of the day. He leaned in, planting a soft, tender kiss on your forehead. “You need to sleep now,” he murmured, his voice a soothing melody that wrapped around you.

“Rest well, my love.”

That week was dedicated to your recovery. You spent most of your time lying in bed. Being a mother of two children was even more beautiful and challenging than you had imagined, but the feelings you experienced were so wonderful that you couldn't have been happier. Your aunt and cousin Paulina came to visit you, and you noticed that her daughter had grown up too. You wished that one day you could see her and your daughter running around and playing together, you hoped to live long enough to witness those days.

The villa must have had one of its busiest weeks. Geta was among those who came to visit you and the children. He seemed to be doing better, but you could still sense that he wasn't truly happy, which concerned you. Decima, who couldn't be with you on the day you gave birth, came to see you and the baby the very next day. She spent all day at the villa helping you, only returning home in the evening. She also shared the wonderful news with you that she was expecting a child. Although you told her you didn't want to tire her out any further, she insisted on staying to help.

Everything was going well and blissfully; there was joy in your home, and everyone was happy. However, outside the villa, the real world still existed in all its cruelty. On the last day of the week, there was a council meeting, and the decision you dreaded was made: war was on the horizon once again.

The threat posed by Elagabalus in the south was no longer something to take lightly; it had to be eliminated as soon as possible. Preparations had begun, and the Roman army was on the verge of entering a significant battle it had not faced in a long time.

Marcus was busier than ever, dedicating countless hours to training soldiers and developing effective strategies. You could see the slight tension in his expression, even as he smiled at you. When your little girl woke you up crying in the middle of one night, you found Marcus asleep at his desk, and your heart tightened. You weren't sure what troubled you more: the impending goodbye that would come too soon, the anxiety of waiting for his return without knowing when it would be, or the fact that he had been so exhausted lately while preparing for war.

One morning, he was up early again, sitting at his desk and studying the map spread out in front of him. You softly got out of bed and walked over to him.

"What keeps my husband so busy every morning and evening?" you asked.

He looked up and met your gaze. "My sun, I ask for your forgiveness for waking before you have risen.” He opened his arms, inviting you into his embrace, and you accepted his invitation, sitting on his lap. He gently touched your cheek and scrutinized your face. "Forgive me for not giving you much time these days, my love."

"I'll forgive you if we have breakfast in the meadow," you said.

"Your wish is my command," he replied, smiling.

You smiled back, wrapped your arms around his neck, and kissed him.

The meadow was a breathtaking tapestry of color and life on that enchanting spring morning. It felt like a slice of heaven, where vibrant flowers unfurled their petals to the warm sun, and the trees were adorned with delicate, budding branches that danced gently in the breeze. The air was filled with the cheerful melodies of birds, harmonizing their joyful spring songs as they flitted through the branches.

You had brought Marcius here for the very first time, and the pure joy on his face was radiant. He delighted in chasing after butterflies, their wings painted in brilliant hues, while he reached out to touch the colorful blooms swaying around him. With his newfound ability to walk, he took unsteady steps, often toppling over in his excitement, but his spirit remained unbroken.

Still, his little body could only take so much. After a delightful day of exploration and play with his father, he finally succumbed to sleep, his eyelids fluttering as he nestled into Marcus's arms. Marcus sat beside you in the lush meadow, holding him close, a serene smile gracing his lips as the peaceful ambiance of nature wrapped around you like a soothing touch.

“Aurelia… There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your heart quickened, a mix of curiosity and intuition stirring within you; the tension etched on his face revealed the truth before he even spoke. “I must leave Rome soon. After months of preparation, the moment has finally arrived. Our southern lands are under dire threat, and the peril grows more menacing with each passing day. We must take decisive action to eliminate it.”

“What is the battle plan, General?” You asked, your voice steady, even as a whirlwind of emotions surged inside you.

"We have successfully assembled the largest navy ever created, and the requisite ammunition and catapults are currently being loaded onto our warships. The Carthaginians possess a numerical advantage; however, a portion of their fleet is expected to be stationed at Numidia and Alexandria by this time. It is imperative that we act swiftly to leverage this situation and secure the city of Carthage. Given the absence of their commanders and a majority of their military forces, the city is currently vulnerable."

It was easy for him to explain his battle plan, but it was very difficult for you to listen and imagine him fighting there. He touched your cheek. "Aurelia, my love, this war is unlike the others. We must be prepared for anything. That's why I will leave Cato and Felix here; they will be in charge of protecting you."

You felt a lump arise in your throat. "Marcus, what are you saying?"

"If we are defeated and I..." He paused, exhaling deeply. "If I am unable to return..."

"Marcus, please—"

He pressed his thumb against your lips.

If I am unable to return, it is evident that Elagabalus may advance here with the intention of eliminating Geta. While this scenario is remote, there remains a possibility that they could lay siege to the city. The Praetorians may not be able to hold out for long. Please bear in mind that if anything happens to Geta, our son will be next. Take him and our daughter to where Felix and Cato will guide you. Do you understand? Promise me that you will do this."

Suddenly, your eyes brimmed with tears. "Marcus, I couldn't bear to live if anything happened to you. And you are saying…"

"You will live, my love," he said. "For our son, for our daughter, and for me. Even if it's not in Rome, you will find a way to carry on." As he spoke, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, wiping away the tears that stained your face. "Promise me now, please."

With a trembling breath, you nodded, the words escaping your lips like a soft, mournful whisper.

"I promise.”

Days and weeks passed, and at last, that day had arrived—the day you had feared the most, the day of separation. Anxiety wrapped itself around you like a suffocating blanket, stealing your sleep and filling your mind with troubling visions. The nightmare that haunted you only deepened the sense of dread, stirring a storm of helplessness within.

As Marcus leaned in to kiss you goodbye in the sun-dappled courtyard, a wave of desperation surged through you. Every fiber of your being urged you to drop to your knees, to plead with him to stay. But you resisted, forcing yourself to stand tall, to embody the strength you hoped would comfort him. You wanted him to remember the curve of your smile, the resilience in your posture.

In those final moments, as he turned to bid farewell to Marcius and your little girl, he glanced back at you. His smile was bittersweet, his gaze lingering, as if he were trying to etch your image into his memory forever. In that shared silence, the weight of unspoken words hung between you, a testament to your love and the invisible thread that would bind your hearts despite the distance.

You accompanied him out of the courtyard and wished to join him on the travel to the port of Ostia. At first, he was resistant to the idea, but your persistent insistence wore him down, and he eventually agreed—on the condition that Felix and Cato would accompany you there and back to the villa.

When the carriage arrived at the harbor, the sun was at its zenith. Marcus pointed out the fleet preparing to sail. You were mesmerized, having never seen such a large number of ships gathered together. The soldiers recognized both of you and saluted, and you returned their greetings.

From the deck of the ship, the salty breeze carried the soldier's voice across the water, “General, the wind is at our backs! We’re ready to set sail, sir!”

Marcus nodded and turned to you. “I’m afraid the time has come, my lady.”

Suddenly, you couldn't hold back your tears. Marcus gently cupped your face in his hands and wiped the tears away.

“My love, every time we part and I see tears in your eyes, my heart feels like it stays here with you. I think of you even when I wield my sword. So please, don’t cry anymore. Our children are entrusted to you in my absence; be strong for them.”

"My brave general, I hold my head high and my heart is content. But don't you know that I am in love? I miss you, I cry, I wait, but I know how to be patient. Let my tears be your companion, and let my love be your shield. I fervently wish for you to come back, safe and sound, to my waiting arms, my love. I will not allow fate to take you from me, and as your princess, I forbid you to die.”

He smiled, took your hands in his, bringing them to his lips for a soft, lingering kiss. “I promise, my princess, I will return to you in victory,” he vowed, his voice steady yet soothing. “Let the expansive blue sky be your confidant while I am away. If you listen closely to the harsh winds that whip through the air, you will hear the whispers of my heart. The rain will fall, carrying with it my love for you.”

A wave of emotion swept over you, and you sobbed, clinging to him as if he were your anchor in a stormy sea. He wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your hair. Time seemed to stand still as you held each other tightly, your tears soaking into the fabric of the red shawl he wore over his armor. He inhaled your familiar scent, etching the moment into his memory, feeling as if it were the last time.

Both of you sensed Octavius standing respectfully behind him, waiting for his general to board the ship. It was time for Marcus and his soldiers to leave the harbour and say goodbye to their homeland. Before stepping onto the deck of the ship, Marcus turned to you to meet your eyes one last time and, despite the heaviness in your heart, you managed to give him a smile—one that shimmered with unspoken words and memories, a final farewell that echoed the depth of your feelings.

In Marcus's absence, the days stretched endlessly, each one dragging like the weight of sorrow pressing upon your heart. The beautiful memories he left behind, along with your children, were your only sources of support. You found yourself missing him more deeply than ever before, a longing that gnawed at your soul.

As night fell and you lay in bed, Marcius curled up in the very spot where his father used to sleep, and you wanted him to sleep there until his father returned. You forbade the slaves from washing the last clothes he wore. Each night, you cradled his burgundy tunic, the soft fabric still carrying his familiar scent. As you breathed it in, it wrapped around you like a tender embrace, evoking memories that brought both comfort and a deep ache of longing as you fell asleep.

When Cato delivered a letter from him a few weeks later, you were overwhelmed with happiness. You went to the room to read the letter in solitude. Your heart raced as you sat on the bed and opened it.

"My beloved wife, my dear princess, my radiant sun. As I write this letter from the heart of the vast sea on a dark night, where the moon remains hidden, I want you to know how profoundly I feel your absence. The silence around me is overwhelming, and as I gaze out from the deck, I see only the endless waves stretching far and wide—no land in sight, just emptiness that echoes my longing for you. Then a wind stirs, and I whisper how deeply I miss you and how immeasurable my love for you is, how I wish that this breeze could carry my words to you before my return. As dawn breaks, a flock of birds appears on the horizon, gliding gracefully away from the shore. They soar towards Rome, towards you, towards home. I wish to join them and fly towards you. I wish to land on your chest and die there, only to be awakened by your sweet kiss, bringing me back to life. Then we could lie in our room, in our bed, holding each other, never wanting to wake up. Until our son and beautiful daughter call out to us…"

You lingered over the letter, reading it over and over, the soft paper cradled between your fingers. As you pressed your lips to the words he'd written, you could almost feel his warm fingers brushing against your skin. The familiarity of his handwriting wrapped around your heart like a soothing embrace. Determined to respond, you resolved to pour your heart into a letter of your own tomorrow. But for now, you knew you needed to gather your thoughts and find the right words, all while bracing yourself against the tears that threatened to spill.

It had been several days since you received Marcus's letter, and you were eager for any news from him. After nursing your little girl and ensuring she was sound asleep, you slowly descended the stairs. You heard some noises coming from outside and felt excited to see Cato—could he have brought news from Marcus? However, when you saw his expression, your excitement turned to worry and fear. You knew that something had happened, and you knew it couldn't be good.

“Cato?”

You felt a rush of concern as you noticed Decima was at his side. She dashed toward you, her body collapsing into your arms as sobs wracked her body, sending a jolt of anguish through your chest. You grasped her shoulders firmly, trying to soothe her.

“What’s wrong?”

Cato’s gaze fell to the ground, his eyes refusing to meet yours, as if too burdened by the weight of the news he carried.

“Speak, Cato! Tell me at once!” you urged, desperation creeping into your voice.

“My lady,” he began, his voice steady yet heavy with sorrow. “There was news this morning. Our navy… our fleet has come under attack by the Carthaginian navy in the Mediterranean. Many of our ships have been sunk, and we have been informed that the general and Sir Octavius's ship were among them.”

“We don't know the details yet. The legates and commanders who stayed in the city will convene with Emperor Geta today. An emergency meeting has been called.”

“Get my horse ready,” you murmured, urgency lacing your tone.

Cato blinked in surprise, hesitating. “My lady, forgive me, but now may not be the right time to go there—”

You silenced him with a fierce glare that brooked no argument.

“Now!” you commanded, your voice rising with an intensity that cut through the air like a clarion call, summoning the slaves into action.

Cato rode alongside you as you made your way up Palatine Hill. A sense of suspicion filled your mind; you were convinced that Marcus was still alive, and you believed there had to be a way to reach him. You grasped Unio's reins to bring her to a halt, she neighed loudly. You jumped down and noticed the guards looking at you in surprise, but you didn't pay them any attention. You rushed inside.

A few soldiers and guards were standing outside the great hall, and Cato ran to catch up with you as you moved toward the entrance. You walked between the soldiers and approached the door. The guards were taken aback to see you. They hesitated, unsure whether to open the door for you, as a meeting was taking place inside.

“Open the gate now!” you commanded.

“Did you not hear Lady Aurelia?” Cato snapped at them.

The guards looked at each other, but eventually, they opened the door for you.

As you entered, the first person you noticed was Commander Darius. Geta stood directly across from him. Centurion Varus was also present, along with two other men. They were all engrossed in a discussion about the map spread out before them. When they heard the door open, they all turned their heads toward you.

“Oh sister, the news must have reached you too,” Geta said worriedly.

Everyone in the hall greeted you, saying, “My Lady.”

You nodded to them and went straight to Geta's side. "Any recent news?"

"We're still waiting," he replied, his voice heavy with anxiety. "Also, we cling to the hope that the fleet will return soon."

You shook your head. "It'll take days."

"Seven days at least," Varus interjected, his tone grim. "The fleet may return without the general, and we haven’t heard from him yet."

You shot him a fierce glare, refusing to entertain his words. "What do you mean? He's not dead; my husband is still alive!"

"I hope so, my lady," Varus replied, his expression grave, "But we must prepare for every possible outcome and fortify the city against an impending assault. The general took nearly 30,000 troops with him, and our defenses were weak. I warned him that his strategy was flawed, but—"

"You know very well that my husband, General Acacius, has never faltered in any of his strategies," you protested, your voice trembling with emotion that surged within you like an approaching storm. "Something is amiss. Someone must have betrayed him; could it not be?"

Varus flashed a tense grin, his discomfort palpable in the charged atmosphere. "Regardless, we have no time to engage in such discussions. We must urgently select a new commander, a general, Your Majesty, to lead the troops that protect the city."

"The Council will convene tomorrow in an emergency session," you asserted, the weight of responsibility heavy upon your shoulders. "A decision will be reached then; the most seasoned commander will be chosen. For now, head to the barracks and send word to the navy. We must ascertain the general's condition once and for all."

"Yes, Your Highness," he replied, a formal salute snapping his posture straight before he exited the hall. As the door closed behind him, an uneasy feeling settled in your gut; you couldn't shake the unsettling way he had looked at you. You might be mistaken, but you feel he is somehow involved in this situation. But how? More importantly, if he is indeed involved, what might his next action be?

@orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @immyowndefender @lailathepedritofan @screechingchildfury @shinymusicpanda @somedayheaven @ivoryandflame @negrita2345 @music-lover09 @javiismyhsbnd @idontcareihavenoidea @jisungandpedrolover @mmkkzz @ro-nahime-things @indiegirlunited @kluvspedro @movievillainess721 @berriesarepunk @bonadeamo @heramj @blushingwueen @smoochispoof @littlemisspascal @kirashess @okaaaadereeee

@this--is--music @mmkkzz @ro-nahime-things @indiegirlunited @kluvspedro @movievillainess721 @berriesarepunk @bonadeamo @heramj @blushingwueen @smoochispoof @littlemisspascal @kirashess @melsunshine @meetmeatyourworst @footballfangirl94 @daejangandimja @ariesandwolves @hooomansstuff @vlonerv @chewie-bars @dendulinka6 @lucienofthelakes

@superqueenearthquake @ultra-nina-bella @longlivekingminnn @pedroloverbilmemkac @aurorathegreekprincess @daejangandimja @pedritomylovebemyhusband @fatimayilmazzz @javiismyhsbnd @jisungandpedrolover @shinsegismylove @luvleyprincess @meetmeatyourworst

your likes, comments and reblogs are soo important to me, and thank you for all support, love you all❤️

if anyone wants me to tag them please comment or msg me :)

#fanfic #fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gifs #pedro pascal fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius #gladiator ii #marcus acacius x oc #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x ofc #marcurelia #marcus acacius fanfiction #general acacius #pedro pascal gladiator #acacius #gladiator 2

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ssstarlighttt · 1 year ago

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…majesty, oh lord.

As Jack paced his room, the door opened, light flowing in. Wanderlust could see her silhouette, standing perfectly in the door’s frame. He could see the slight movement of Jack’s body slightly stagger at her arrival.

He couldn’t do this.

and here we are, at the end. the final chapter of address me, your majesty is up, and you can read it here. <3

#just dance #just dance 2023 #just dance 2024 #just dance fanfic #jacklust #jack rose #wanderlust #jd jack rose #jd wanderlust #jd sara #jd brezziana #jd mihaly #jd night swan #jd scotty #writing #fanfic #ao3 #star��s stuff #address me your majesty

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smileflowcr · 6 months ago

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"Escuché que ascendiste al trono." Silas es un gobernarte con miles de años a su espalda como experiencia, importándole poco lo que suceda en otros reinos siempre y cuando no se metan con sus dominios. Ha tomado la cabeza de algunos reyes que, por viejo, lo juzgaron como un débil o formado alianzas con otros en los banquetes que organiza a menudo. Su relación con el reino del Sol se volvió amistosa desde que Altair abandonó su cama para siempre y formó una familia. "Felicidades, mi bello Sol, brillarás más que todas las estrellas en el cielo."

#me acordé de esto que me comentaste ayer(?) uwu #por supuesto siempre tratándolo cual joyita es 😋#cual cosita me dices. te amito <3 #( dialogue: silas chryssomallis )#( dynamic ♡ alastair & silas )#mikrokosmcs #( verse ❀ a new king has ascended; all the stars and galaxies address me as your majesty )

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blacksvans · 6 months ago

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El reino del Sol era encantador, el oro y el aceite que corría por medio de intrincados canales de riego, encendía cada una de las vasijas donde el fuego iluminaba la habitación. El vino y el sake se estaban acabando, mientras Alastair descansaba dentro de su gran tina de agua, sales y hierbas que limpiaban sus heridas de la guerra. El nekomata descansa al borde de la bañera, muchas de sus prendas propias del kimono formal se habían desaparecido y ahora solo quedaba con la más colorida superior, cubriéndolo de una desnudes, pero aliviando su calor en un reino tan sofocante. ❝ Felicidades por una victoria más, Alastair ❞ Sus manos con pequeñas garras rastrillan el cabello rubio fuera de su frente, acercando luego un vaso con sake hasta los bonitos labios del menor a quien parece devorar con sus ojos felinos. ❝ Tu victoria final contra tu hermano, ahora te puedo llamar majestad. ❞ | @mikrokosmcs

#evander inoue ; thread #evander & alastair ; relationship #mikrokosmcs #a new king has ascended; all the stars and galaxies address me as your majesty ; verse #todos los perros días con un verse #y el nombre más largo ever(?)#pero te quiero así xq big brain siempre #VAMOS CON ESTOS CERDOTES #EVANDER SOLO QUIERE QUE SE LO CULEE(????)#como son estos 5 que solo quieren estar en al cogedera(???

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harunayuuka2060 · 4 months ago

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Professor Trein: I can't help but still worry about the fact that you're going to the Valley of Thorns. *has packed some sweaters for MC*

MC: *smiles* Thank you for your concern, Professor, but I assure you that I will be okay.

Professor Trein: Well, you are a capable child, after all.

Professor Trein: Though I suggest that you remain vigilant.

MC: *nods*

Lilia: You're such a worrywart, Trein. I'll make sure to keep them out of harm's way.

Professor Trein: *frowns* I'm more convinced that you would be the source of trouble.

Lilia: Fufu~ You flatter me.

Professor Trein: ...

Sebek: Can’t I come with you, Waka-sama?!

Silver: Sebek, it's a family reunion.

Malleus: Sebek, Silver, I need you to maintain order in Diasomnia.

Sebek and Silver: Yes, Waka-sama!/Yes, sir!

Lilia: *chuckles* Good boys.

MC: ...

Malleus: What's wrong, dear?

MC: ...

MC: I haven't arranged a present for Nana…

Lilia: Meeting you will be the greatest gift for her, so you shouldn't be concerned.

Malleus: *smiles* That's right.

Lilia: Well! Let's not keep Maleficia waiting any longer.

Sebek: Safe travels, Waka-sama! Lilia-sama! MC-sama!

Silver: Safe travels to all of you.

*MC, Malleus, and Lilia safely arrived at the front gate of Black Scale Castle.*

Malleus and Lilia: *looking confused*

Malleus: We can't possibly be in the wrong place.

Lilia: Indeed.

*The exterior design of the castle appears lively, decorated with white flowers and vibrant balloons, and displays a banner that says "Welcome home!"*

MC: *finds themselves staring at the castle in awe*

Baul: YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESSES!!! WELCOME BACK!!! *as he rushes to greet them*

Baul: *kneels*

MC and Malleus: ...

Lilia: Oh! It's nice to see you again, Baul!

Baul: It's been a while, General!

Lilia: *chuckles* You don't have to address me as general. I have long been retired.

Baul: Please excuse me, Sir Lilia!

MC: ...

Malleus: This is Baul, Sebek's grandfather, who serves as our royal advisor.

MC: Oh, that explains why he looks so much like Sebek.

Baul: Your Royal Highness, I don't mean to rush you, but Her Majesty Maleficia is waiting.

Maleficia: *at a loss for words to express her joy at finally meeting her grandchild, she simply hugs them tightly, making incoherent noises*

MC: ...

MC: *hugs her back, smiling* Nana.

Maleficia: Welcome home, my dear.

MC: *chuckles* Thank you, Nana.

MC: But um, is it really necessary to lock Dada out?

Maleficia: I wish to have a moment with my grandchild without any interruptions. *kissing their forehead*

Lilia and Malleus: *outside the door*

Lilia: ...

Lilia: *laughs*

Malleus: *sigh*

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst malleus #twst lilia #twst maleficia #twst baul #twst trein #twst sebek #twst silver #twst a life reclaimed

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yaksha-lover · 2 years ago

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Summary: After the events of ghost bride, Vil and Leona decide to continue their competition to determine who is the best suitor. They decide you, being new to the school, are the best option to try and romance.

Multi x GN Reader (Leona, Vil, Ace, Deuce, Floyd, Rook, Azul, Malleus)

Part 2

“Yeah, whatever, you failed too. Doesn’t mean a thing. Any sane person would’ve chosen me over you,” Leona snarks.

“Prove it, then. Let’s choose someone else and we’ll be able to determine who the real winner is,” Vil replies, not bothering to look up from the compact he’s using to apply his makeup.

Leona’s ears perk a little at the idea, but he turns his nose up at it anyway. “Like who? Everyone at this school’s already stepping over each other to get a picture with you. Not exactly a fair competition, blondie.”

“Our dear prefect hasn’t been at the school long, and they’ve never known me as a celebrity since they’re from another world. It seems they would be the fairest way to continue our little competition,” Vil pauses, looking back over at Leona. “If that’s okay with you, your majesty.”

Leona rolls his eyes. “Old bride clearly had no taste. At least the prefect won’t have all these delusional biases about their ‘prince,’” he grumbles. “Fine, they’ll do.”

“Alright, then whoever can get them to accept an invitation to the upcoming semi-formal will be the winner.”

“Deal. Try not to feel too hurt by their rejection, it’s not as though you can compete with a real prince like myself.”

“I’m not worried, you hardly qualify as a prince, lazy second-son that you are. Unless you’re planning to actually try for once? Could it be you have another motivation for wooing the prefect?”

“As if I would go for a pathetic little herbivore like them. I’m in this to prove a point to you, that’s all,” Leona huffs. “You’re the one who suggested them. Projecting, are we?”

Vil smirks at his denial. “My, my, quite the tsundere little kitty you are. I have no reason to deny, I have become quite fond of them recently. Enough to stop you from becoming a perpetual nuisance in their life, at least.”

The next day, you sit at your usual lunch table with Ace, Deuce, and Grim, when a certain grumpy lion approaches you.

“Herbivores,” Leona says, narrowing his eyes at the sight of Grim devouring an entire leg of chicken. He turns his gaze to you. “Get up, prefect, I need to talk to you.”

“Kinda busy,” you mumble, mouth full of food.

“Why, hello prefect,” Vil greets, walking over from his table where Rook and Epel watch on. “Ah, let me get that for you.” He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, gently tilting your face when you look up at him and dabbing at the corner of your mouth. “Now you look perfect.” Vil looks up at Leona, saccharine smile ablaze. “Was this man bothering you?”

You ignore his strange behaviour and decide to just continue eating.

Leona glares at him, spotting the rose in Vil’s hand. “Aren’t you about to do the same thing, Schoenheit?”

Vil scoffs, glimpsing the small jewelry box Leona is subtly holding behind his back. “Hardly. I was simply checking in on my dear friend, who seemed distressed by your presence.”

Between Grim looking over at your food every two seconds and the bickering going on above your head, you decide to give in and let him have the rest of yours. “…I think I’m just going to leave.”

The two housewardens are too busy bickering to notice you making your escape, leaving them with the rest of your table.

“I never knew you felt so threatened by me. You really had to resort to sabotaging my attempts?”

“I was not! You just happened to be in the way of my own plans,” Vil dismisses.

Ace finally looks up from his lunch to address the situation. “What’s up with you, housewardens? Why are you hovering around the prefect like that?”

“Stick your nose out of this, freshman. It’s none of your business.”

Vil sighs. “If you must know, I wish to ask the prefect to attend the semi-formal as my date. I came to ask them.”

Ace looks back in forth in surprise between Vil and Leona. “You too, Leona? Huh, never figured you’d be interested in anyone but yourself.”

“Don’t lump me in with him. This is just a competition for me. Neither of us won when trying to charm the ghost, so now I’m going to take my victory over him.”

Ace relaxes a little at his words, turning to the other housewarden. “You’re doing this for a competition, Vil? I know Leona is shameless, but surely you’d never stoop to his level?”

“It’s not just for the competition. I do like the prefect, but now I have the chance to take them to the dance and to show Leona how much more charming I am than him.”

“I mean, I hate to rain on your guys parade but I think it’s a lost cause. The prefect definitely likes me. We’re best friends after all, so they’d probably choose me if I asked.” Ace says nonchalantly, earning him a glare from Deuce. “Not that I’m interested in them! Obviously, I don’t care. But, uh, if it’s a competition, of course I have to win.”

Deuce rolls his eyes: “You’re such an idiot. And wrong. I’m their best friend.”

“And where do you think you’re going?” Vil asks Leona when he starts to walk away.

“To nap. It’s exhausting dealing with you children. Try not to get in my way, next time,” Leona replies, not bothering to turn around as he saunters away.

The next time you’re approached by the housewardens is in the hallway after class. You jump in surprise when a hand reaches around your waist to pull you into an empty classroom. The long brown hair that tickles your face gives you a pretty good idea of who the culprit is.

“Prefect,” Leona greets casually , as if he didn’t just basically kidnap you with no explanation.

“What are you doing? Will you let go of me, please,” you sigh.

Leona loosens his grip and turns you around in his arms to face him. He brushes a hand over your cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair out of your face. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” he says, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. He’s so close his breath brushes over your neck.” “For me to let go of you?”

“Leona?! I-”

Your response is interrupted by the sound of a bell and the noise of chatting students approaching the classroom you currently occupy. You and Leona fling apart, but there isn’t enough time for you to calm your flustered face before Floyd, just entering the room, is able to see it.

“Shrimpy! What are you doing in here with sea lion?” Floyd takes in your embarrassed expression. “You haven’t been doing anything naughty, have you? And without me?”

“Nothing happened, eel. Let’s go, prefect.”

“Now you’re trying to take shrimpy away after hogging them all to yourself?”

“Sorry, Floyd,” you appease, not wanting to get into another ridiculous situation, “but he’s right. I have a class to get to.”

“Class is boring. I’d much rather be playing with you, but suit yourself. I’ll just have to squeeze you sometime later!”

Leona trails behind you as you walk to your next class, demanding an explanation from him.

“So why did you try and seduce me?”

“Seduce? You’re so perverted. Have you forgotten I’m a prince? I was only trying to-”

His reasoning is interrupted by Crewel’s glare as you silently head into class and take your spot beside Ace, leaving Leona to get a talking to for making you late.

“Leona and Vil have both been acting so weird lately, and I don’t know why.”

You miss the side-eye Ace and Deuce give each other as they ‘uh huh’ your venting.

“So,” Ace says, leaning towards you a bit, “Have you heard of the upcoming dance?” He winces when Deuce kicks him from under the table. “It’s kinda stupid, but if you wanted to go-”

“Trappola! Quiet or you’ll have extra work to do after class.”

Crewel seemed to be saving you a lot today.

Later, you notice Vil ahead of you, walking by himself through the halls. He drops something on the ground, but walks away before you can call out to him. Picking up his dropped handkerchief, you rush after him, finding yourself in yet another dim, empty classroom.

“Vil?” you call. He turns around, and you hold his lost item out to him. “You dropped this.”

His eyes light up and he smiles when he sees what you’ve brought. “Oh! Thank you so much, dear.” He approaches you, suddenly dropping a kiss on your cheek, making your face heat up. He winks. “Just a little reward for your endless kindness.”

“Uh, it was nothing, really.”

“Nonsense!” Vil leans against the wall, filling your view. “In fact, let me repay you. Do you have some time now?”

Before you can respond, someone flickers the lights on, the brightness now revealing the room was less empty than you assumed. The sound of a violin fills your ears as you spot Rook in the corner of the room, playing beautifully. Epel stands in front of a small table, set with two plates and a vase of roses in the middle. He blushes a little when you spot him, giving you a gentle wave. Both of them wear suits. Epel approaches Vil to remove his school overcoat to put on a more traditional suit jacket.

Still lost in confusion, you let Vil guide you to your seat at the table. He sits down across from you, taking your hands into his. Epel brings out a slice of chocolate cake, setting it between you, before going to sit near Rook.

“Ah, I hope you don’t mind sharing, dear.” He winks again. “You know, I really would like to repay you for your act of kindness.”

“Did you just- have this all set up? In case you dropped something…? It’s really nothing, it took me literally two seconds to return.”

“So humble, it’s one of your many fantastic qualities. I am serious about treating you, though. You know the upcoming dance?” You nod, not liking where this is going. “How about I accompany-”

Before he can finish, the door flies open and Leona struts in. He, seemingly, is not fazed by this set up in the middle of an empty classroom.

He ignores Vil and the others completely, turning to you. “Prefect, we never finished our conversation from earlier,” he grumbles.

“You’re right. Sorry, Vil, but it would be rude to keep him waiting. I better just-”

“Please, I have something important to ask you. Just one moment of you time is all I ask.” Vil places him arm on your shoulder.

“They already made up their mind, Schoenheit. Back off, they wanna come with me.” Leona grabs hold of your hand, trying to tug you out of Vil’s grasp.

Vil does not give in, taking hold of your other hand. “Putting words into their mouth, Kingscholar? They were about to choose me.”

Stuck between the two of them, locked in a glaring contest, you try to pull your arms from both of them.

“Merveilleux!” Rook stops playing his violin, approaching the group of you. “To have two beautiful men trying to make you swoon, c’est le paradis!Would you like me to become a contender for your heart as well?” Rook sweeps his arms around you gently, before Leona pushes him off.

“Fuck off, I don’t need another one of you pomefiore brats swarming around them.”

Rook turns back to you. “He’s quite possessive, are you into that type of man, I wonder? I can be that type too~”

“I’ve gotta go,” you say, taking this chance to run out of the class.

You’re asked to sit in on a meeting with the teachers and housewardens, which Vil and Leona decide to use as their last opportunity to win once most of the others have left. Only you, Leona, Vil, and Azul remain, still packing up your things.

“Prefect? I apologize to bother you again, but if I could, I’d still love to ask you-”

Vil is, once again, interrupted before he can finish.

“Prefect,” Leona says, touching your cheek. You turn to face him just in time for him to pull out a jewelry box from his pocket, popping it open in front of you. “I-”

“What the hell? Are you actually proposing to me?!”

“What are you on about?” It’s only then that Leona seems to realize your confusion. “A ring, Ruggie?? I said get something nice, not a ring!”

Ruggie strolls in from around the corner, shrugging. “I’ve never even seen jewelry this expensive before. How would I know what you wanted me to get? I’ll take it if they don’t want it.” He pauses, suddenly remembering something. “Also, did you still want me to bring in the flowers? There’s four hundred roses just sitting in the other room.”

You turn back to Leona incredulously. “Why did you send Ruggie to- Forget it, why have you guys been acting so strange?”

“Leona and Vil made a bet on who could get you to agree to go as their date to the semi-formal. It seems their small, fragile egos were quite bruised from their rejection by the ghost bride,” Azul interjects, finally looking up from his book at the corner of the table.

Vil stares at him. “You truly have no loyalty nor shame.”

“Says you,” you quip.

“Yes, it’s quite pitiful. I heard rumours and used my resources to discover the truth. I thought you deserved to know, prefect.” Azul stands from his chair, approaching where you’re sitting to place a hand on your shoulder. “Now, if you still wanted to attend the event with someone who wasn’t planning on manipulating you into it, I would be happy to offer my services.”

Your narrowed eyes prompts Azul’s swift apology.

“Ah, I see now was not the correct time. I shall make my exit.” He leaves the room along with Ruggie, leaving you three alone.

“What is wrong with both of you? You didn’t learn your lesson with Eliza? It’s messed up to play with a person’s feelings like this, I’m not your little prop.”

“Prefect-” Vil starts, cutting himself off at the look you give him.

You give them each one last glare before walking out the door, barely hiding your laughter.

“You’re quite the actor, my dear,” Malleus says, slipping your hand into his own as the two of you walk towards Ramshackle.

“I know,” you laugh, “Did you see their faces? I think that’s the first time in his life Leona’s ever looked guilty. His tail was definitely between his legs.”

“Yes, it was rather unbecoming of him,” Malleus chuckles, before stopping his stride. “Although, you could have simply let them know you already belong to another.”

“True, but it shouldn’t really matter. It’s not as though they’re actually interested. They clearly just think of me as some kind of prize to win in an ego competition. Plus, it’ll certainly make a scene when we walk in to the dance together, won’t it?”

Malleus sighs, pulling you into his arms to drop a kiss on your head, before continuing to walk you home. “You are far too naive, my love. Not to worry, you have me to protect you from those beasts.”

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