#and you dearest followers are my court to entertain

[braxiatel]

Listen I love me a good watcher as much as the next Grian viewer in the fandom, but like…. guys I don’t think he’s bringing them back. That really isn’t how cc!Grian does lore and he has confirmed that his intention is not and never was for the watchers to exist beyond evo smp.

Anyway. So permit office HQ, huh? Keeping an eye on Grian? Two eyes? Three eyes? A hundred eyes? 420692 x 10^67 eyes? ∞ eyes? e̴y̵e̷s̷ ̵e̶y̴e̴s̸ ̵e̸y̵e̵s̸ e̴̞̔̒͂y̶͖̼̖͋͑e̶̢̽s̸̫̰̀́ ̴͉̲̽͑̇e̴̼͑͘y̷̡̯̪̒e̷͍̍̆̎s̷̻̋̇̇ͅ ̶̢̊̍͜e̸̛͈͙̋y̵̧̯͓̿͒̒e̸̯͠ͅs̵̢̡̬̈̋̓ ̵̧̘̯̒̄̍t̶̢̘̺̕h̶̥̥͙͐͛ë̴̻ý̷̦ ȃ̶̠͕̰͎̣͑̔̀͛ṙ̸̭͔̊͑̑̍e̸̳̖͑̀̄͠ ̴̲͇̮̫̓̋͒̾̈́̈́͜ẽ̸͓͚̺͕̗̈́v̷͚͍̰̼̙͔͂̒̚e̶̢͇̗̒̀̂͝r̴͉̬̬̟̋̈́̆̇̕͝y̶̧̧̲̱͎̻̐͝w̶̛͔̓͗h̵̫̺̙̹̔͗͗̇̈́é̷̦̭̬̃̀̊̍̃͆r̷̢̛̜̮͇̍̌̔͗͂͌͜ẹ̸̤͒̅̄̚̚ ̸̟͍͉̝͙͂͜w̶̨̩͖̬͌a̸̧͈̺̻̩̫͗̿̈̈́͘t̵͙͓̱̏́͝c̵̰̠̬̘͘h̴̺͙͙̀͆͌̀͆͒̿i̸̹̣̹̘͂̈́̌̽͋͊͠n̸̻̓ǵ̴̭̟̝̃͋ ̶̺̦̮͍̞͌̆͂̈́̆̌̂ở̸̡̪͕̻͈́͆̅h̷̜͉̠͒ͅ ̵̨̧̭̄̀̚͘̚v̵̖͈̑̉̏͗ö̵̖̱̱́̔̿̅͊̿͐i̷̲̙̜̟̔́̑̆d̵̻̿͗̋̾̾̿͘ t̴̛͇̪́̈̐̊̇ẖ̶̨̧̡͈͚̹͎͔̘͇̘̬͊̀̓͒̍́͆͊̋͑̈́͊͗͐͝é̷̱͕̯̱̮̦̺̜̻̱̮̼̦̺̤̣̪̮y̷͕̪̻̓͂̔̓̋ ̵̡̢̛̯̫̖̝̙̙̟̉̂͐͑á̴̗͕̃̈́̊r̴̢̨̞͕͙͙͇̝̫͍̞͙͎͒͆̾̎̈͐͗͌͝ḛ̴̡̧̢͖͇̝͇͕̤̱̬̬̩̳̦̫͕̭̑̈̽̒̇̓̃́̓̋̚͘͝ ̴̡̩̼̗͓̮̙̓͜͠ͅh̷̛͚͉̭͔̮͇̖̠̋̅́̌́̇̑͒̑̀͝ȩ̷̛̛̮̣̹̪̟͔̭͍̱̲͖̥͔͊̆́̈̃̓̉͑̀͊̾̅͋͆̇̾̒̿̄̕͝r̶̡̢̧͇͕͇͈̹̙̥̠̜͎̬̃̊̚̚͜͜e̸̯̮̩̙̖̦̯͔̥̭̙̺͕̯̦̪̜͐̏̋̀̒͆̒͐̈́͒͐̏͌̊͜ ̷̡̡̜͇̝̺͒͠e̴̡̛̹̰̞̳̬͕͙̩͚̼̝̬̦̼̝͎̹̠͒̐́́̔̂͂̎̑̿͊́́͂̿̀͜͠͠͝y̸̡̙̦̪̩̳͕͌́͊̒̋̿̅͐́͊̽͘ę̵̢̙̻̞͕͍̪͙̃̎̑ͅs̴̯̣̹̬̹̘̠̄̉̀̃̆̉̋̋̇̐̌͛̎̀̑͌̀̚̕͝ ̶͒ͅw̸̭̙̹͉̭̖̋̋̑̒̍̐̂̽̓̚͝a̴̛̯̖̮͐̓̃̐̿̾͐͗̓͋́̽͒ṭ̷̢̡͍̝͔̟̱̱̘̱̫̦̹̭̠̯͚̼̖͎͙̗͑̏͌͂̇̀͋̅̄̐̿̄̂͒͊́͗͑̊̄c̵͈͉̬̩̼͇̤̯̳̯̤̞͙͖̰̟̩̫̭͒̊͆̑͆̐̿̓̍̃̀͐̓̚͘͜͜ͅͅh̴̙̣͚̜̻̟́̓͘̕͜͝ͅ ̷̺͐Ŵ̷̡͍̰͙̖̮̯̭͙̬͍͋̎͑͊̌̍͂͊͒̎̃̽̆̑̒͘͘͠ǎ̵͎̗t̸̜͉͉͔́̐͗̇͂͒̎́̿c̶̢̻̗̥̟͖̖̟͖͋̊̌̑̕ḫ̵̢̩͔͇͓̗̫̟̭̪̄͛͑̍́͒̑͝͠͝ȩ̸̛̰͕̰̿̓̉͊̿̑̌̈́̒̎͋͘r̴̨̨̨͚͉̘̮̱̖̳̲̖̭̖͍̮̖̀̈́̓š̶̢̤͖̪̭̬̼̟̮̞̼̻̫̪̯̱̟̤̰̞̩̮͊̇̀̀̓̿ ̶̡̛͉̰̳̩͓̙̫͎̟͇̳̯̻̭̖̲͉̞̅͌̽̄̌̐͌̓̓̈͌̈͛͑̎̋̎̕͘͘ͅ

[ithebookhoarder]

Hiiiiiii, Could i request an Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader fic where Anthony married reader who is from a lower class (basically like Theo) and they end up having a fight because reader did something that would be considered out of class or simply wrong while she’s trying to learn to be a viscountess. Sorry if it didn’t make any sense English isn’t my first language 😭😭😭

All's Fair in Love and Cricket (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

Synopsis: After getting into a fight with your new husband you decide to settle your differences in a 'sporting' fashion, whilst reminding Anthony once and for all just who he married.

A/N: Ohhhhh boy did I enjoy this one. I'm sorry if it feels a little rushed or clunky in places, I may make some more edits at some point. I struggled with the flow of writing so much action but I loved it too much not to post it. So yeah, anxiety be damned else this would join the rest of the unposted drafts I have stashed away. I hope you enjoy it. 💕

Warnings: Anthony being a stupid idiot, class references (discrimination), reference to illness 

Masterlist

It was late summer and as the sun beat down on the green lawns of St James’ Palace the lords and ladies below began to wilt. Many a woman held her parasol above her head in a desperate attempt to remain cool, which was hard when you wore petticoats and had nothing to do but sit and watch the men play cricket for hours on end.

Even Her Majesty looked like she was struggling to make it through the afternoon's entertainment, her attendants desperately fanning her where she sat under her canopy. They looked close to melting in their ornate gowns, however they were clearly willing to endure if it allowed them to continue admiring the game - and more importantly, those playing it. It was like waving a bone in a dog’s face as they watched all the eligible young men of the court sprinting about the green, their physique and athletic talents on clear display.

No wonder the Queen had her opera glasses with her, despite her proximity to the field. 

You almost felt bad for them, watching as the men were subjected to the same treatment as the young ladies were night after night at social functions… hence the 'almost'. After all, there was a sense of satisfaction watching them preen and dance about like show ponies on display. That, and the view wasn’t exactly a terrible one when your husband was one of those playing. 

You’d have endured sitting on that blasted green a thousand times over, baking in the afternoon sun and surrounded by swooning women, just to watch Anthony Bridgerton as he captained his team. 

Being one of Anthony’s oldest and dearest friends, his competitive nature was well known to you (for which you had one too many games of Pall Mall at Aubrey Hall to thank), but it seemed to be out in full force today. You’d simply lost track of how many times he had dashed back and forth, working up somewhat of a sweat as he barked orders at his teammates in a desperate bid to ensure victory. It was no surprise to you that he had subsequently been forced to remove his jacket and roll up his sleeves, exposing his rather sculpted arms to those watching.  

As you said, there were worse ways to spend an afternoon - and normally, you’d have been smugly lapping it up, however, today you were unable to truly enjoy yourself. Not when all you wanted to do was march over to him, take that cricket bat and give him a good whack or two. Maybe that would knock some sense back into idiot… 

That was the issue with being in love with your dearest friend: those who knew you best also knew the best ways to hurt you, and Anthony’s behaviour at dinner the following evening had proven just how true a statement that was. 

It had all started after the entire family had been summoned to the townhouse for a dinner, to toast you and what had so far been a successful first Season as Viscountess Bridgerton. At first, everything had appeared normal, with the usual laughter, merriment, and ease that one would typically experience at a Bridgerton gathering. It was what had first endeared the family to you, back when you had been but a small child, living at Aubrey Hall as the only daughter of their Stable Master. 

They had never been anything other than kind to you, inviting you to play with their children, and join them in their daily lessons. They had also bought you gifts on your birthdays, invited you to join them at events, and even paid for the finest doctors when your father had fallen unwell several years ago. It was as if, to the Bridgertons, your family was their family - an attitude that they extended to the all members of the staff that kept their ancestral seat running. It didn’t matter if you were Head House Keeper, or the greenest of scullery maids. Everyone was counted and cherished, and the Bridgertons had earned utmost loyalty in return. 

The rigid rules and divisions of high society didn’t appear to exist within the wisteria covered walls, and it had been that way well into your young adult life. In fact, it had been you that had initially rejected Anthony when he first declared his love for you one day, after taking you along with him on one of your many afternoon rides. 

You’d been the one to remind him who he was and that society expected him to marry someone they deemed worthy of him and his title - and that wasn’t you. You didn’t have a penny to your name beyond the small sum you’d saved from helping with the younger Bridgerton children as a governess. You didn’t have a title or an estate or anything to bring to a marriage. 

“Except the most important thing!” Anthony had pleaded. “Love… I love you, and there is no one else for me in this life except you. Life is short, terrifyingly short. Look at my mother and father… to be without the person you love most in the world is an agony and I cannot bear it. Please. I can’t lose you. I will not spend my life without you, knowing love is within both of our reach but that we were too afraid to grasp it? If I cannot spend my life, no matter how long it may be, with you then I will have no-one. No-one. My brothers can have the title. I don’t want it. I only want you.”

He’d continued to insist that for the following 6 months, even after his family had moved to their London house for the Season. It didn’t matter how many beautiful, eligible, wealthy heiresses he was introduced to. He would entertain none of them. He would have none of them. Only you. 

It’s what he’d continued to insist until you’d eventually accepted, realising that he was right; Love was the most important thing and you both deserved to have it in your lives, come what may. 

So, you’d said yes. 

You’d become engaged and gradually made your way out into society as the new Viscountess Bridgerton, armed with the support and guidance of the Bridgertons. 

Which brought you to last night and the dinner that had been organised to mark the end of the most challenging, but rewarding, Season of your life - and the dinner had started so wonderfully. Yet, somehow it had all gone to hell in a hand basket in the mere blink of an eye thanks the well meaning, but ill timed, teasing of Colin and Benedict.

Your brothers-in-law had both decided to raise a toast to your first Season as an ‘official’ member of the family and they'd got off to a rather complimentary start, if you were being honest. However, they had somehow moved from their praise on to reminiscing about the many years and many adventures you had had since joining their family.

Whereas every anecdote had caused the rest of the family to spiral into more laughter, your husband had looked more and more infuriated. In fact, Anthony had warned them not too kindly to ‘sit down’ and ‘shut up’ about your childish behaviours, which of course had only encouraged them further. 

“Oh, hush, brother,” Benedict had quipped, raising a glass to your successful debut. “She knows we mean it all in good fun. After all, she once had a phase where she refused to wear shoes and would walk barefoot around the estate, traipsing mud everywhere! I think we’re allowed to be surprised by how far our dear darling Y/N has come.”

“It’s true - It’s a miracle,” Colin added, wiping the tears of laughter from his cheeks. “The transformation is remarkable. Who knew she would go from feral ragamuffin to lofty Lady Bridgerton.” 

Anthony’s only response had been to tighten his grip on his glass to the point it looked like it would shatter. 

Whether it was the residual stress of your busy social calendar, or something else entirely you had no idea. All you did know was that Anthony was angry, and even your gentle touch would not soothe him. 

In a desperate attempt to calm him, you’d pulled Anthony out onto the terrace shortly after dessert had been cleared and asked what was happening. Much to your surprise, he had turned on you, venting about how childish his brothers were and how embarrassing it was that they were discussing things unbefitting someone who was a Viscountess. 

“They’re just joking, my love. They were doing it to get a rise out of you.”

“Well, it wasn’t funny,” he’d growled, causing you to bristle. “They’re so immature. They need to grow up and realise we’re not children any more. That… that you’re my wife and joint head of this family.”

“So? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t, Anthony,” you snapped, the warning clear in your tone. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing, I just - it - they’re… it’s embarrassing.” 

“So, you’re embarrassed? By what? Your family? Or me? Because everything they said tonight is true. I did do those things, as did you. I may not have been born a noble lady but you knew that when you asked me to marry you. So don’t suddenly act like you're ashamed, that you are somehow better than your family - than me.”

Somehow the argument had only spiralled from there, with both of you saying things you didn’t mean, and with both of you storming off and slamming the doors behind you. 

Even now, sat on the edge of the cricket pitch, the thought made your blood boil. How dare he? How dare he act ashamed of you and the wondrous memories of your youth together? It wasn’t as if you hadn’t grown and matured since then. You had done everything within your power to be worthy of him and his family, and yet all it took was one mention of the girl you had once been to make him upset?

As if sensing your silent fury, Eloise had been glued to your side since the moment you'd left the house. Her company had been a blessing, with her numerous whispered remarks and jokes, making the day almost bearable. One remark in particular from Eloise had caused you to burst out laughing in a most undignified fashion after watching Anthony trip over one of the opposite team - the Duke of Hastings of all people. 

You still weren’t quite sure how they had been positioned on opposite teams, but you were sure there was some kind of wicked divine intervention responsible. Who else would think it a good idea to put two competitive men against one another? Your hosts, perhaps? After all, Lady Danbury and Her Majesty had organised the game and you had learned long ago not to underestimate the women - especially when they decided to conspire together. 

“How long is this delightful game again?” Eloise’s polite remark oozed with sarcasm as she leant back against the tree behind her. 

It was obvious she was bored senseless. In fact, you half suspected she would have already left had her mother not been sat on the opposite side of the green, watching her like a hawk. 

“I’m not sure,” you groaned in reply. “I lost count of who was winning about an hour ago.”

“So, we’re to be trapped here for eternity?”

“Pretty much, considering this part will not end until either Simon or Anthony lose, and we both know that neither one of them will concede defeat easily.”

Eloise rolled her eyes. “And I thought they were bad at Pall Mall-”

“-LOOK OUT!”

The cry interrupted both of you as you turned in surprise. Given the so-far sedimentary tone of the day, neither of you had expected such excitement as numerous Lords and Ladies began to hurl themselves out of the way as a stray cricket ball rocketed through the air, towards the crowd. 

“Good god!”

The exclamation seemed apt as both you and Eloise ducked, watching as the ball sailed past, causing several yelps and groans from the people around you. You were pretty sure you also spied a glass of lemonade flying through the air in all the chaos. However, your attention was drawn to the figure charging towards you to retrieve the offending item as it rolled to a stop. 

Anthony.

“Pardon me, Y/N,” he murmured, reaching down to collect the ball that now lay a small distance from your feet. You nodded in greeting, aware of the many eyes watching but you elected not to say anything, not trusting yourself not to make some snide remark.

As it was, you both had barely said more than a handful of words to each other since your argument last night.

Clearly sensing the lingering tension between you, Anthony quickly turned to address his sister instead. “Eloise.”

“Ah, brother," Eloise cheered. "Splendid play so far. Tell me, when did the object of the game become the decapitation of the ton? I would have attended far more cricket matches had I known that was the aim of the game.” 

“You can blame Simon for that one,” he replied, his taunt hidden beneath his neutral smile. “Still, good dodging back there. I thought he might have nearly caught you both.”

“Almost.”

“But alas he missed, like most of your players today,” you quipped, enjoying the way Anthony seemed to redden at the reminder of his team’s less than stellar performance. “Still, good effort. You’ve almost caught up with Her Majesty’s team. I believe that’s better than last year.”

“Well, that might have had something to do with the fact that she does have Simon,” Anthony grumbled. 

It was true, no one could out-run Simon - even if Anthony always gave it a damn good try: hence why the Queen often had him captain her team when he was in London for the season. Besides, the head of the other team was usually Lord Duval, due to his position as the Queen’s chief administrator. However, it seemed his brains and financial strength were all he had, due to the fact his social skills, and athleticism were sorely lacking. 

“Touché, and who is up next?” Eloise asked. 

“I don't actually know. The other team seem to be taking remarkably long to sort themselves out.”

Just then, almost as if on cue, three men began to hurry towards them.

A quick glance revealed that one of the gentlemen who was approaching was Colin Bridgeton, and the other the Duke of Hastings; that much you knew. The third was rather unfamiliar to you, however, you were pretty certain he’d been playing on Simon’s team. Regardless of his identity, neither he nor any of the other gentlemen now stood in front of you looked very pleased. Rather, they looked as if they had all sucked on a lemon, their frowns were so deep.

“Sorry to interrupt ladies, but I must reclaim Lord Bridgerton here for a moment. It appears Anthony will be needed to bowl again,” Simon sighed by way of explanation.

“What on earth for?”

Colin was the first to answer. “Lord Dingby is unable to bowl on account of the heat, and the Baron will not play.” His skepticism was clear as he shot the so called Baron a disapproving look. “He ’twisted his ankle’ or so he claims, thus we are down a bowler and the other team is down a player.”

You all rolled your eyes.

“So then, who will bat?” questioned Eloise curiously. “If Anthony is bowling you still require one more man to take their place on the other team?”

Wasn’t that the question of the hour. However, no one appeared to have an answer, and by the disapproving glare steadily growing on the Queen’s face, they didn’t have long to come up with one. 

“Maybe Lord Stevens?” suggested the third man hastily, staring around at the crowd. 

“No. He injured himself riding the other week,” Simon replied. “And unfortunately our hosts only saw fit to invite enough male guests as were playing. We aren’t exactly spoilt for choice regarding possible options.”

It was true. There didn’t seem to be any visible answer in sight given that those most suited to the game were already positioned on the field. 

“What about female guests though?” 

Your question hung in the air for a moment, causing everyone around you to turn in surprise. 

“Excuse me?” Anthony looked at you suspiciously as you began to rise from your seat. He was well versed enough to know when mischief was afoot. A fact that was proven right a moment later as you held your hand out towards a shocked - and excited - Colin.

He was only too happy to oblige your silent request as he placed the bat in your grip. It was rapidly becoming the most exciting event of the season and lord knows he wasn’t about to spoil the fun - especially if he got to rub salt into Anthony’s wounds at the same time. 

After all, given his display the previous evening, it was time you truly gave him something to feel embarrassed about. Losing.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Perfectly,” you smiled. “You’ve seen me when we’ve played Pall Mall. I have a decent enough swing. Besides, you said yourselves you need an extra player and there isn’t exactly anyone suited left - not anyone male, anyway.” 

“Anthony?” 

To his credit, your husband was also smiling, even if you could see the sudden tension forming behind his perfect smile. “I see no problem with it. I’m sure our hosts would prefer the game finished rather than called off because we ran out of players.” 

“Agreed. Well, it’s settled then.” Simon cheered, clapping a hand on Anthony’s shoulder as they looked back towards the field. “It seems she will be taking his go.” 

Then they noticed the rain cloud of a man next to them.

"She can’t play!” protested the third man. Everyone looked at him in silent disbelief. “This is a gentleman’s game. A Lady can not play."

“Her Majesty seems to have no objections,” Eloise commented smugly, glancing across the field. Indeed, it was true Her Majesty seemed to have no objections to the turn of events, choosing instead to exchange a wad of pound notes with the man beside her. If anything she looked exhilarated by the prospect. "Besides, I doubt a feeble female such as ourselves will pose any threat to your team, your Lordship.” 

“Well… I… Bridgerton, I still don’t think-” 

Thankfully, Anthony was all too busy gazing at you to take any notice of the pompous oaf’s objections. 

It was a look you were more than familiar with, the unspoken desire and encouragement obvious in the way his gaze softened. It was the same look he always gave you when you’d done something amazing (and most things were amazing in his eyes). It didn't matter if it was taming a particularly unruly horse, solving a maths problem that left the rest of them scratching their heads, or daring to step onto the dance floor at your first ball, knowing not another soul in that room other than him.  

It was a look that made you feel invincible. That you could do anything and everything you put your mind to as long as you had Anthony cheering you on from the sidelines... you were a team. Always.

"Anthony?" you asked, the challenge obvious - but also your sincerity. If he truly did not want you to play then you'd have marched back to your chair and sat right back down.

You'd meant it before. You loved your husband and wanted nothing more than to be the best partner you could be. Your hurt from last night had stemmed from the fear that, for a moment, that wasn't enough for him anymore.

Fortunately, it appeared you were wrong. Your husband wasn't embarrassed by you. If anything, he looked ready to kiss the ground you walked on as he leaned over and whispered in your ear, "If you can get four runs, I will personally pay you 5 pounds."

"You have a deal," you laughed. "As it is, women and ladies alike play cricket up and down the country. It’s high time we had a chance to show you boys up."

The other man began to protest again. "My Lady, my La-" 

He never got very far. You simply stopped, turning and handing him your parasol and shawl.

"Thank you," you cheered marching away.

He paused, taken aback. It didn’t help that Eloise was only too eager to firmly pull him back into your now vacant seat with a glare that could have melted ice. 

All around applause broke out as the players resumed their positions on the field. It took a moment or two for them to prepare for play but now everyone seemed to be watching intently. 

Oh well, if you were to dare to play at all then you may as well dare to achieve something from it, you mused, gripping the bat handle and aligning yourself with the wicket. Victory seemed a rather good start, especially given the fact you had no idea what Lady Whistledown would make of this turn of affairs. You’d already had a shocking enough entrance into the world of the Ton, what was one more daring display?

"Go easy, Lord Bridgerton," the referee cautioned from the side of the green. 

Anthony nodded obediently at the crowd’s titters. You could see the restraint he was demonstrating, choosing not to hurl the ball at you the way he would had you both been in the privacy of your home. Instead, it took all his will power to grip the cricket ball and resume his position on the field. 

Unfortunately, you never knew when best to desist from poking proverbial bears. That, and Anthony was too easy a target. 

"Yes, do go easy on me," you jibed. Everyone who knew you could hear the sarcasm buried in your voice as you took the bat and fluttered your eyelashes at him. "I’m only a delicate woman, but I must endeavour to ensure her Majesty’s team at least has an opportunity to best you, Lord Bridgerton. You’re only losing by what? A few wickets?" 

Oh. You were in for it now. 

Anthony’s grin was devious as he stepped back a few paces, weighing the ball in his hand till finally he charged at you, swinging his arm over in the perfect bowl. 

It was then you brought up your bat to send the ball back in a high arc. 

There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone followed the ball with their eyes. It was as if they couldn’t believe you’d actually managed to hit it. However, the shock quickly wore off as everyone remembered the point of hitting the ball in the first place. 

"GO!" came a yell from the crowd as excitement began to spread. 

So, you did.

Hitching your skirts in one hand, you began to sprint towards the other set of wickets, grinning as your partner passed you along the way. 

Of course, you would have liked to protest that you could have indeed run faster had you not been encumbered by your stays and petticoats. Your slippers were also rather terrible for any movement. What you wouldn’t have given for a pair of trousers right then. 

"Come on!" came another yell - it seemed as if everyone was forgetting their dignity in all the excitement as you tore back and forth across the grass in a mad blur. 

Had it been anyone but you, it would have been a terribly scandalous moment. Yet, your name - and the status of your betrothed - meant this was all merely seen as sport. Besides, from the way Her Majesty was whooping from her perch by the trees, it was clear where her loyalties lay.

"Come on Y/N!"

"Anthony! Run!"

"Over here!"

"Come on!"

The cries blurred into one as you finally turned at what you planned on being your final run, only to spot Anthony as he came sprinting back towards you… and the wicket.

"Oh no, you don’t," you laughed, charging onwards in a final burst of energy. 

You could hardly catch your breath as the world slowed around you. 

All that remained was you, Anthony, and the closing distance between you. 

You could see his desperation laced with delight as he watched you stagger towards the wicket… just as the ball he’d thrown hit it.

"IN!" 

The referee’s declaration initiated an eruption of noise as all around the green, men and women celebrated the spectacle they’d just witnessed, and the victory you had now ensured.  Within seconds you were swarmed, mobbed by well wishers and triumphant team mates. There were so many hugs and snatched ‘well done’s that you were quite at a loss what to do other than stand there and accept it. Thankfully, Anthony seemed to have read your mind and was at your side as soon as he was able to fight through the jubilant throng. 

The moment he reach you he took your hand in his. His expression was a mixture of awe and contrition, clearly unsure what to say to you.

"Good game," he praised. "Simon better watch out - I think Her Majesty will be asking you to captain her team next year."

"What a tremendous idea, Lord Bridgerton. I may just do that."

As if summoned by the very mention of her, a voice rang out clearly from behind you. Without even turning you knew exactly who was standing behind you, as the throng suddenly fell silent around you and parted like the Red Sea. In all the excitement you had failed to notice the Royal party making their way across the field to join in the celebrations. 

With a gulp, you turned and dropped into the most respectful curtsey you could manage without falling flat on your face. "Y - your Majesty."

The Queen chuckled. "I must thank you, Lady Bridgerton, for providing such excitement to our proceedings today. I also must thank you for the twenty pounds I just procured off of Brimbsley - that’ll teach him to bet against me."

You merely dipped your head in gratitude, unsure whether this was actually happening or not. After all, the closest the you’d ever been to monarch was your hasty presentation several months ago and that had barely earned you more than a curious glance, like you had been some exotic animal on parade at the Zoo. And now, the Queen was addressing you? A lowly Stable Master’s daughter? 

It was enough to make you feel as if this was all some kind of surreal dream. 

"Anyone who bets against your Majesty deserves to be relieved of their coin."

"True, True," she preened, gesturing for you and everyone else to rise. "I gather you have played this game before?"

"Growing up around the Bridgertons ensured I had little alternative," you confirmed, relieved when the Queen proceeded to chuckle good-naturedly. 

"I dare say you didn’t, my dear. Well, it certainly makes for a rather entertaining afternoon, as well as a victorious one. Perhaps we aught to have women playing more often." She turned her head and chose to direct her next words directly to your husband. "You’ve chosen quite the bride, Lord Bridgerton - you are to be congratulated on choosing such a spirited partner. I hope you realise how lucky you are."

"Indeed, your Majesty," Anthony replied, the earnestness clear in his eyes. "I’ve realised just how truly unique and remarkable she is… and how lucky I am that she chose to be on my team, even if not on the cricket pitch."

Another round of laughter echoed out at his declaration but you knew it was more than just a jest. In fact, by the all-too-clear pride radiating off of the eldest Bridgerton you knew what he truly meant with his honeyed praise.  

It was all the apology you could need and had you not been in such company you’d have dragged him into the bushes and shown him just how much you forgave him. Besides, your victory on the Cricket pitch was enough pay-back for both of you. 

As if sensing the amorous tension steadily rising around her, the Queen chose that moment to make a well-timed departure, in search of a refreshment. She barely gave you all a final nod before marching off to greet the rest of her guests, leaving you stood there with a rather gobsmacked expression on your face. 

"Well… that really happened," you murmured, struggling to maintain your newfound confidence now that the whole saga had come to an end. "Did I actually just do that? Did the Queen actually just … talk to me?"

"She really did," Anthony confirmed, hands grazing yours nervously, as if unsure whether or not you’d accept his touch. However, your hands accepted his readily, fingers intertwining as you squeezed his palm in an obvious attempt to ground yourself. "You truly were incredible today - I know you don’t need to hear it but, for what it’s worth, I am proud of you." 

"Thank you."

"And I truly am sorry for being such a world class fool, last night," he continued swiftly, clearly keen to make his apology whilst you were willing to receive it. "I didn’t mean to make you feel as if I was embarrassed by you. I never could be. It couldn’t be further from the truth. I was vexed with my brothers and because of several other trivial matters, but I allowed my temper to get the better of me and I handled it poorly. I lashed out at the wrong person - the one person who deserves nothing less than to be told how incredible she is, every single day. I am unworthy of you, Y/N. I know no one else in the entire world so awe inspiring and to let you think otherwise for even a moment was my failing entirely. You are brave and smart and funny and kind and beautiful-"

"Ok, Anthony. I get it."

"-and I am unworthy of someone with such skill on the cricket pitch-"

"Anthony," you squealed, trying to hide your laughter as he pulled you into his arms and smothered your face in kisses. "It’s fine. I forgive you. After all, I also lost my temper and said some things I didn’t mean. Can we just agree we’re both sorry and put this mess behind us?"

"Yes! God yes," he sighed, looking like a weight had visibly lifted from his shoulder. "Because I really do not like fighting with you. Instead, I think we should be enjoying your victory parade. Today is your triumph, after all - the Queen’s champion." 

"Hmmm, I rather like that title," you purred, gazing up at him. "But between us? I prefer being your wife, much much more."

[princess-yuna]

My Dearest: Part 3

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,835

Summary: What a lovely afternoon for a promenade. There is something unusual brewing in the midst.

Content: No use of y/n, reader’s last name is Bennett for fic purposes but feel free to imagine another surname that’s suitable for you, pining, friends turned lovers and a lot of fluff. Reader has a younger sister and an older brother.

A/N: Thank you for sticking with me through another part! I would love to hear feedback from you.

Previous | Next

In addition, gentle reader, there have been sightings of Lord William Brixton returning to the Ton. It was a scandal when he had left Miss Bennett with no proposal during her debut. There have been whispers of him returning to take her hand once more. Are these rumors or the truth of his presence during this season? We will not know until-

The newest edition of Lady Whistledown was plucked out of your hands by your mother. She scowled because she did not want you and your sister to read the words of the rumor-littered paper. You only read it for entertainment, but it intrigued you to read more when you were mentioned. Lord Brixton's return had certainly been a topic of conversation for the Mamas who had wished to pawn their daughters off to the Lord. Yet you knew that each of them had been turned down due to his interest in you.

It was flattering, to say the least, knowing that he had eyes on you. Soon you thought of Colin, your fingers toyed with the dainty jewel hanging from the necklace he had gifted you. A special gift he purchased because he thought of you. Lord Brixton hadn't bestowed you a personal gift such as that but he simply declared that he wished to court you. You told him you would give it thought, and he had respectfully accepted that you needed time after his abrupt departure that started whispers.

Now with his return, you were deemed desirable to your dismay. You did not want the attention when your sister was the one eager to be married while you were fine being unmarried. If only you could be a wallflower much like Penelope Featherington had been. Was, rather. Lady Whistledown had written down information that you were not aware of a certain Bridgerton helping her to find a husband. He was a good friend to her, so you saw nothing wrong with him aiding. However, there were whispers.

Now you walked alongside your mother as your sister was a few paces ahead with one of her many suitors. At the corner of your eye you saw a familiar figure walk your way with a smile that belonged to no other than Colin Bridgerton. When he had approached you and your mother, he nodded his head in greeting. You and your mother acknowledged him with small curtsies in return.

"Lady Bennett, Miss Bennett," Colin greeted, "Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Yes, quite lovely," you replied, a soft smile gracing your lips.

Colin smiled at you before he glanced at your mother, asking her permission to whisk you away momentarily. She waved you both off with her hand before she continued on to chaperone your sister. A simple chuckle rumbled in Colin's chest as he glanced back at you. He offered his arm to you, and you reached out to hold it as he guided you on the path. Your own maid followed paces behind you to keep you chaperoned.

"It pleases me that you are wearing my gift," he commented.

You smiled warmly at him. "I have taken quite a liking to it," you responded. He turned his head to look at you, and you felt his hand pat your hand that rested on his arm. That smile of his made him swoon.

You suddenly grow nervous, your cheeks warmed as you become aware of how close he is to you. Your heart raced in your chest because you knew that Colin wanted more, but he was not voicing that he did. However, you did try to push past that when you had something to ask of him.

"I did not know you were aiding Penelope to find a husband," you then said.

He was taken by surprise, and a nervous chuckle left him. "Ah, so you read about it then," he said as he looked ahead. "That was true. Since I cannot keep anything from you, I have spoken to her before seeking you out. She has put my help on pause to prevent further gossip."

The smile only grew on your face as you pulled him to stop walking so you could look at him. "That is truly admirable, Colin. I do not see that as a negative thing at all for helping Penelope. It shows your brilliant character," you stated.

His gaze lingered on you, and yours on him. You could see the tiniest hint of pink on his cheeks as you complimented him, which made you giggle in return before you gently tugged him along to continue your walk.

He then cleared his throat. "And what of you and Lord Brixton? Has he really returned to seek your hand?" The question made you gently grip his arm a little tighter and it was his turn to pause your walk to look at you. "What is wrong?" His face was now riddled with concern as he looked you over, seeing that distant look on your face.

A soft sigh left you as you looked elsewhere, now avoiding his gaze. "He wishes to court me again, Colin," you admitted to him. You looked at him now and you saw the look of conflict on his face, his gaze not meeting yours. The look made you desperately want to ease his worries. "I told him I would think of it and he granted me as much time as I needed," you told him.

Colin's eyes met yours, and a small look of relief showed on his features. "Ah, I see," he responded, and a small smile went to his lips, "That makes me glad that he is giving you time."

You wanted to reach out to him, but it would have been inappropriate. You wanted to tell him to convey his feelings. Then you remembered what your mother told you, and that was a woman must not beg. The words he wrote on paper were strong indications that he had feelings for you, but he never spoke them out loud. Was he too afraid to admit his feelings out loud to you? He did not realize how much turmoil he put you through, but you hid it with a mask that showed that you were fine when you weren't. All he had to do was ask and you would give him what he wanted.

"Shall we?" He asked, gesturing to the path once more. You give him a timid smile and a nod before you are off again. The conversation was more about his travels because he hadn't told you everything through his letters. As fascinating as his stories were, your heart grew heavy with want when you wished he wasn't talking to you as a friend.

You left the promenade with unanswered questions that afternoon. The longing you had for Colin burned through your body, and he consumed your every thought. Even now as you stood by the refreshment table at the Cowell House, you were too distracted by your thoughts until your name was being called. You glanced at Penelope as she joined you, and you both shared sheepish smiles.

"I did not think you were one for hiding," she said softly.

A soft laugh left your lips and you shook your head. "Is it that obvious? I believe my head is entirely in the clouds this evening," you responded. She was curious, but you revealed nothing to her. Your private matters were your own, and you did not wish for gossip to ignite from possible eavesdroppers. Lady Whistledown had eyes and ears at every event, and you simply did not want to be written about again.

Your conversation with Penelope was light and short until your eyes met Colin's from across the room. He looked at you in the same way you looked at him. It was like time had stopped. Your breathing was heavy and you had to excuse yourself from Penelope in a rush as you broke eye contact. You dared not to look at him again as you walked somewhere else in the room, your eyes were to the floor as you attempted to make an escape.

You've barely made it five steps until you collide with someone. Hands were on your shoulders to steady you so you wouldn't lose balance, a startled expression on your face as you looked up to meet Lord Brixton's concerned gaze. He retracted his hands from your shoulders and placed them to his sides as you curtsied to him with your gaze to the ground. Your cheeks warmed with embarrassment due to not seeing him in the first place.

"My apologies, Lord Brixton," you said quickly.

The sound of his laugh filled your ears and your look turned to confusion as you looked up at him. "Your apology is not needed, Miss Bennett. I was hoping to see you today actually," he stated as he placed his hands behind his back.

"Oh?" You asked curiously, but you were far from interested when you were more concerned about leaving the room. "Whatever for?" Your gaze went past the lord and your eyes were met with Colin's again. You broke eye contact and looked back at the man in front of you, a warm smile on your lips.

His brow rose in question at your response, but you kept your composure. "I wanted to see you again. I know I left your estate giving you time to think things over, and I will still allow that time, but I find myself thinking of you often," he expressed.

If you did not have feelings for a certain Bridgerton, you would have been completely enamored by his words like you have been in the past season. However, you felt nothing but a tinge of guilt as he spoke kind words and you couldn't reciprocate them. You had to fake a smile to continue playing a façade. Your mother would want you to be with someone like Lord Brixton, but he was not what your heart yearned for.

"That is quite flattering, Lord Brixton," you said. Suddenly you felt more aware of your surroundings when you felt eyes on you. "Unfortunately, I am feeling unwell, and I wish to go home," you told him.

"Oh, that's too bad. Shall I escort you out?" He did not look pleased, but he was not going to push. You knew him to be too much of a gentleman to push something unwanted on you.

"No, it is fine, I can manage on my own," you replied and gave a weak smile, "I will see you again, Lord Brixton. Have a good evening." You gave him a curtsy before you walked off. You tried not to walk too fast as you kept moving through the crowd while avoiding certain glances. Just like that, you were gone from the Cowell House.

What you didn't see was that Colin Bridgerton was watching your escape, and there was a triumphant look on his face when he looked back to Lord Brixton looking puzzled.

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Swords in the Court: Wedding Bells

Secret Garden

Yandere Don John x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning: Nothing but the fact that Don John is hypnotic

Note: This story is set in a fictionalised historical setting. Though there are clear inspirations drawn from the real world and history, this tale in no way tries to explain, change or state any historical, political, communal, geographical or religious 'facts'. Kindly treat this short-series as it is, a fiction

Unedited

You pay no heed to the stares of passing court ladies and lingering servants while making your way towards the Queen’s chamber. You have grown accustomed to them now. Of course, people will stare—you are a lady-in-waiting for the Queen, despite having no house or regal title to your name. As the daughter of a blacksmith, you should not be even in the Queen’s chamber—any royal chamber. But here you are, serving and accompanying. the queen wherever she goes. 

Your father used to say that he was a self-taught man, a person of his stature, should have been illiterate. But he not only taught himself but you as well. And one day, by a twist of fate, you found yourself in the Queen’s presence. She took a liking to you and appointed you as her chambermaid. But by the time the seventeenth summer of your life passed, you were elevated to the position of her lady-in-waiting. You later realised that she needed a true trustworthy lady by her side. The court was divided, and the Queen needed a loyal companion by her side, and she put her confidence in you. 

You are no Lady by birth, but you have learned the court's ways and a Lady's mannerisms. You will never be accepted, of course, you do not expect them to. But as long as you have the Queen's favour and know your place, you are safe.

“What took you so long.”

“Apologies, Your Highness,” You bow down before gesturing for the maid following you to serve the Queen her tea.

“The physician is certain that this shall help you sleep better, Your Highness.”

The Queen nods, taking a tentative sip of her tea. 

“The Prince of Spain will be here tomorrow. And here I am, unable to earn a wink of sleep. How shall I welcome and accompany them if an unrested mind grips me.”

“Forgive me, My Queen but you have taken great troubles, arranging the union, pursuing the King and preparing for the Prince and his companions’ welcome. Sleeplessness might be a result of such responsibilities.”

The Queen smiles faintly and takes another sip “You always know what to say, clever girl?”

“I merely state what is obvious, Your Grace.”

“I haven’t been able to keep track of the court, I have been engaged with the matters of the Princess’s marriage. Anything worthy?”

“Not much, Your Highness, the King has taken an interest in Lord Beecham’s eldest daughter.”

“The Earl of the Walden?”

“I’m afraid so.” You pour some more tea into her cup.

“Wasn’t it he who rebelled against my father when he was King? My dearest husband started a rebellion and won, and now his favourite dogs wag their tails in the court. Strange are the times.” That’s all she says before picking up on her letters to read.

Such news comes as no surprise to her, as long as those ‘pretty playthings’ as she likes to call them do not try to influence the King in ways she holds the power to, the Queen doesn’t mind. The King has his entertainment, the Queen has hers, and only one has it in the public eye—the other needs to be discreet.

“Prepare to welcome the Spanish Royalty tomorrow, and tell the Princess to be ready. The looming war could be thwarted with the Spanish by our side. Your King doesn’t seem to understand that, but as the Queen, I do. They’ve sailed for days, are bound to be haggard, and make sure the supply of wine, and food never runs out, and hopefully, the capital's brothels are ready as well?”

“All has been taken care of, My Queen.”

She nods before assessing you, as if stuck by a sudden realisation “How old are you again?”

“I turned twenty, two moons ago, Your Highness.”

“You mean two months.”

“Yes, My Queen, my apologies.”

She makes a dismissive gesture and puts aside the now-empty tea cup.

 “Don’t be, you should never forget your roots, your reality, where you came from, where you are, and where you can end up. Wear this knowledge like armour, and it can never be used against you.”

“Yes, My Queen.”

“Now go, it is late and tomorrow you must be up earlier than the rest.”

With a greeting of good night, you make your way out of her chamber.

—-----

“Do you see them, now?” Madeline asks, quivering with excitement. 

The young and handsome Crown Prince of the foreign empire, his brother and fellow loyal soldiers riding into the capital—a visual straight out of those romantic fables and poetry that court maidens love so much.

But you are not them. They see the idyllic image of a handsome prince marching towards the palace. You see their banner and the potential this alliance has. The Queen has seen the possibility of a looming war years before it actually might happen and after all these years with her, you know that the Queen is seldom wrong when it comes to politics.

“Look! That’s the Crown Prince. Look at his dark curls, he's magnificent, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Maddy, he is.”

“And there, his brother siding beside him…Oh, and his bastard brother too, riding behind.”

You frown and fix your gaze on the man riding right behind the Princes.”

“I thought bastards do not join such official ceremonies.”

“I heard that the Emperor has recognised him, some say he might even become a Duke there.”

“A Duke? But, he’s a bastard.” You turn to your friend, surprised.

“Birth does not always decide our place in this world. We were lowborns as well. Your father was a blacksmith, mine was a butcher. Look at us now.” 

“We still are lowborns Maddy, this will never change.”

Madeline nods “You’re right, but here we are, overlooking the Prince of Spain marching into the Palace.”

“What is his name?” You ask, intrigued as your gaze fixes on the man in black and white.

“The Prince? He is Mechor Bohorquez de Alvarado, and—”

“Not the Prince, his bastard brother, what’s his name?”

“Him? That’s Don Juan—that’s in Spanish. John,  his mother was not from Spain as I’ve heard.”

“And where do you hear all these from?” You turn to her.

“From the letters I carry.”

“Maddy! They would have you imprisoned at the least for this!” Your eyes widen as you hiss into her ear.

“Take a breath, nobody knows, or suspects. I have been curious, you know?”

“Still, this is dangerous. You will not do it again.” You touch her shoulder to assert “I mean it, Maddy. No playing around dangerously…Please.”

Madeline sighed “Okay, I won’t do it again.”

—--

With a grand welcome has come the dinner— an even grander affair. Pies, cakes, ale, roasts, meat, sweets and chocolates, lots of chocolates, a gift from the Spanish Empire—-the food and drink flow in and empty trays and plates leave the grand hall where the Spanish princes and their men make merry, laugh, drink, and eat. The Crown Prince sits with the King, the Queen and the Princess by their side. The rest of his friends and companions enjoy the never-ending flow of wine and delicacies. At the same time, they play charades of words and intentions with noble women, from the newly blossomed to the ripened, the maiden and the sourly married while their father and husbands go off with other women. 

The norm of the court.

You have seen plenty of it already. You sit with Madeline, tired from running around and ensuring everything is perfect. Your eyes wander around the hall without any particular purpose, until your gaze lands on the bastard Prince—having been granted recognition and now holding the prospect of dukedom, you expected him to be tangled with women in a corner, drunk out of his mind. But he simply stands with a shorter man, that you surmise is some advisor or friend of his, too old to be a squire.

As if feeling eyes on him, his gaze meets yours. 

You like to think that you are above all those silly notions and admirations, that you only want to learn the ways of the court and survive it, excel in it, even. 

But the moment your eyes meet his, you are frozen. Everything seems to stop, everything but the electrifying sensation of his gaze–deep, dark and intense– meeting yours. You feel it in every part of you, because suddenly, everything comes alive in you, things you never existed. 

Your heart thuds uncontrollably.

 But your mind is not racing, it’s not going anywhere at all—there is no thought other than the realisation, that he is beautiful—not exactly the sharp, princely, kind–although it is there, he has something more, something different—he is beautiful with his big brown eyes–sharp but not exactly arrogant, there’s something worse. 

No, no, no. Don’t do that. You are no royalty, you will get no chance to clean up your mistakes.

You chastise yourself and look down at your empty goblet after offering him a polite smile, deliberately making sure that it is no different from the one you offered while welcoming the rest of the guests for the evening. 

But it does not help that you still feel his gaze.

—--

You wish you could wake up to the position of the sun you wanted. But that is the luxury only the royal family enjoys here and the noble ladies who aren’t the Queen’s Lady-in-Waiting. Besides, you are to oversee the cleaning of the Grand Hall before the King wakes. Everything is supposed to be pristine and shining.

“The corner is still not done, and carpet—is that…” The putrid smell of vomit greets you as soon as you step closer to the ‘mysterious’ stain on the carpet in the hall. “Forget cleaning this, the carpet needs to be replaced.” You dismiss the servants, urging them to be quicker.

You look around the place. Wine stains on the walls, splattered food, some pearls, some shoes, even some clothes left behind. It seems like after you left the place has been through a wild ride.

“Much to clean up?” 

Turning to the entrance of the hall, you find an unexpected face.

“My Lord.” You greet him in your Kingdom’s fashion of formality.

“Don John. That’s my name.” He saunters inside, looking around before your eyes again for an official greeting. 

While something tells you that the belated greeting was neither custom nor negligence, you do not pay heed to his boyish attempt to ruffle your feathers. Subtle, typical of courtly politics but never amiss.

“Prince Don John, it is an honour to meet you, but I’m afraid this…” You look around, partly embarrassed with the mess, though it was most definitely, the Spanish guest’s doing. “Is no place for any of our esteemed guesses to be.”

“Please, you embarrass me, My Lady, I’m afraid my brothers and men have much hand in this…mischief. They get drunk so often and so easily, lose their gentlemanly coats.”

This makes a genuine smile press press out stubbornly. He sports no accent that might give away his Spanish heritage, you notice.

“We are most honoured to have your brave and virtuous men in our palace, and the Crown Prince, for the Princess’s hand.” 

Don John smiles down at you, he is tall, you notice–lean but athletic.

“The court here is most polite and charming.” 

Oh, only if he knew the thrones hiding under the roses.

“Of course it is.” You reply. 

His smirk tells you that maybe he is not as new to this game as you surmised.

“They say my mother was from this land.”

“Here?”

“I am not sure ‘here’, but, somewhere from this beautiful land. His Highness, my…father, says I have her eyes and his temperament.”

“The Emperor of Spain has been most generous with us.”

Don John smiles and looks ahead as you both make your way towards the spring garden—now beginning to turn brown with the onset of autumn.

“I assume this court is not too different from ours, after all, people like us get the opportunity to rise,” he comments, lightly tracing the vines as you two make your way deeper into the garden.

“I’m afraid, my Lord, unlike you, I have no royal blood or upbringing.” 

Don John frowns, you read the questions before they come to his lips and explain yourself.

“My father was a blacksmith who forged a few good swords for the nobility. God bless our kind and generous Queen, she took me under her wing, and took care of my learnings of books and mannerisms.”

“I see” 

There is a slight smile, that does not seem anywhere near mockery. You know what a smile veiling a scowl looks like. His smile has no malice peeking subtle, it is just a courteous smile---either that or he is good at hiding it. It confuses you more. There is no straight line he can be read through. He is no open book. A puzzle, yes, that he is, a puzzle that has all its pieces scattered around. 

All.

Nothing is hidden from you for long.

—----

“And I wish I could smack his head—-” Maddy bursts into another fit of giggles, narrating her adventures during the welcome feast “Have you heard, it’s said that the Prince has never lost a single battle.” 

You shrug, fingers racing the leaves and flowers as you two stroll through the gardens. The Queen’s courtyard had some of the most stunning autumn blooms, along with the fallen leaves on the damp ground. The faraway mist gives the stretches of land beyond the place walls an eerie beauty.

“But some say that he has never lost a war, because in every war, his half-brother, Don Juan has fought by his side. Crushing the enemies like ants.”

“Ants?” You chuckle. I do not doubt Don John’s capabilities on the battlefield, but  slaying enemies like ants is slightly an exaggeration.”

“Yes, could be, or perhaps he is indeed the finest sword Spain has ever witnessed? No wonder the Emperor wants to keep his loyalty.”

“And is he not a threat instead?”

“Why would he be so?” 

You sigh and gaze at the forming mist beyond the palace walls. Most of the view is interrupted by guards standing taut like stretched bows.

“I’ve heard rumours, the Queen, sometimes, I heard her say, that Don Juan, though, to the world younger than the Crown Prince, is in reality, two autumns older.

“What?” Maddy ducks her head and looks at you in disbelief “None of….” Licking her lips, looks around before lowering her voice to whisper “None of the letters ever mentioned.”

“It’s just a rumour, we don’t know the truth.”

“If the Queen’s spy says that…”

“Never heard her mention the source, it was a passing comment.” You explain

“Why would the Emporer give him Dukedom then? He’s a threat to his succession.” 

Maddy is right, Don John indeed is more of a threat than an ally if seen through the shrewd lenses, and you know that all the glories and virtues are nothing more than grand shows— carnival under the roof of sorts.

“Maybe, they want to keep him close. He crushes the enemies like ants, you said it yourself”

“They say he swings his mind in battle strategies more than his sword.” She adds after a moment of thought.

“Then he is a dangerous man.”

“If the Princess marries the Prince, they must produce an heir as soon as they can.”

You sigh and turn to a wilted rose.

“They must. We need the Spanish Ships, a war might be stirring soon.”

******

[okay-j-hannah]

A Forgetful Drunk

The Lord of the Rings : Drabble

Samwise Gamgee x Reader

Word Count: 954

Warnings: just a drunken samwise amping up his forgetfulness 😊

Request: “Hi just curious how do you think a drunk samwise will act around his s/o?” Anon

A/N: After a few too many, Sam attempts to hit on you, forgetting that you are already a couple

The barmaiden approached with a tray laden with half-pints, frothy and bubbling over the sides. She waved off the whistles and laughter of patrons already giddy with ale.

“Miss,” came a waving hand, “Another, please.” 

She turned to see Samwise Gamgee looking at her with sleepy eyes. 

“Master Gamgee,” she smiled. The longer she looked at him the more she noticed the signs of his drunkenness; the rose of his cheeks and the sway of his lighthearted body. “You sure about another?” 

He motioned for a tankard like a hopeful child, “I must gather my courage.” 

“Must you?” She couldn’t help but laugh, giving in and passing over a mug filled to the brim. “Whatever for?” 

Sam gulped, swallowing more froth than ale, “There’s a pretty girl I wish to acquaint myself with.”

The barmaiden scrunched her brow, “What girl?” She eyed the chair beside him that was normally occupied with his dearest. 

“Over there,” he mumbled, wiping at his lip, “See her smiling?”

The maiden turned her eyes across the pub, spotting (Y/N) as she laughed at something a cousin said. The young hobbit dazzled with her smile, entertained with her full body laughter, clutching her stomach as she did. 

“Miss (Y/N),” the barmaiden stated, raising a brow. Everyone in town knew that Miss (Y/N) and Master Sam were an established pair - they had been courting since the fall harvest. “You haven’t introduced yourself yet?” 

Sam shook his head haphazardly, putting a few fingers to his temple to stop the motion. “And I’m terribly nervous about it.” 

The maiden held back a giggle. How much had he had to drink? “I’m sure she’d love to talk to you.” 

Rubbing hard at his eyes, a pout on his lips, Sam asked, “How do you know?” He suddenly slammed his hands down, gaze widening in shock, “Has she been talking about me?”

“Oh yes,” she replied, readjusting the tray in her hands, “I reckon she might fancy you.” 

Sam’s mouth fell open, “Fancy… me? By my word…” 

“Go talk to her,” she said, moving onto the next table, “You don’t have any reason to be nervous.” 

But Samwise was nervous. This was the girl of his dreams. The girl he’d been fawning over for years. 

He took a shaky breath, downing as much of the new ale as he could stand. He kept his sleepy eyes on the girl responsible for the butterflies wriggling in his stomach. “Right then,” he grumbled, standing rather unsteadily. 

He stumbled, grabbing onto chairs for support as he made his way over. The closer he got the warmer his stomach became. All the ale had addled his brain and boiled in his belly. His steps were sluggish and as heavy as cement bricks. 

(Y/N) finished catching up with some relatives, turning to find her Samwise. She was delighted to see him already on his way. 

And very clearly inebriated. 

“Hello there,” she said with an endearing smile. She lightly placed a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. 

Sam blinked hard a few times, eyes following the length of her arm, “Hello (Y/N).” 

“Sweetie,” she said warmly, putting a hand against his head, “How much have you drunk tonight?” 

He swallowed hard, “My name’s Sam.” 

“I know,” she smiled, “Did you hear my question?” 

“You know who I am?” his smile was lopsided, his shoulders sagging, “I don’t believe it.” 

She bit her lip - it looked like drunken Sam was becoming forgetful Sam. It had happened on a number of occasions and always made (Y/N) feel like she did when he first tried to court her. 

“Believe it, dearest,” she fixed the collar of his shirt, his eyes boring into her. 

He was getting redder by the second, “Pardon me, miss, but I have to tell you… you are the most beautiful hobbit I have ever seen.” 

“You tell me that every day, Sam,” she giggled, pulling on the rumbled fabric of his coat. 

He looked confused again, “I don’t recall.” 

“That’s because you’re drunk,” she whispered, tugging on his hand, “Let’s get you home.” 

There was shock behind the grogginess of his eyes, “You speak as if we’ve done this before.” 

“Sam,” she grinned, waving off the pub patrons as they neared the door, “You seem to have forgotten that we’ve been together for months now.” 

The drunken, red-cheeked man was positively beaming, “We have?” He raised their intertwined hands, “How could I have forgotten one of my dreams coming true.”

(Y/N) smiled shyly, “You’ll remember once you’ve slept it off.” 

He was nearly giddy as he pulled her to a stop, “So this means I can do this…” He put the back of her hand to his lips and watched her reaction. 

She laughed, “Yes, you absolutely can do that.” 

“And what about this?” He slowly put his free hand to her cheek, his fingers finding their way into her hair. 

A deeper sound came from her, “Whenever you want.” 

“And this?” he asked quietly, leaning in at a painfully slow pace, his gaze still cautious and wondering. “Can I?”

Her skin prickled at the look he was giving her - as if it was going to be their first kiss and he couldn’t contain the nerves eating at him.

She gave in quickly, pressing her lips into his, fast and fierce. He was stuttering and smiling happily when she pulled away. 

“You make me blush,” she said, tugging on him to keep walking, “You know sometimes I think you pretend to be more forgetful than you are when drunk. You just want to play.” 

Sam hummed his reply, still unsteady but holding onto her, “Perhaps.” 

She playfully hit his arm, “Samwise Gamgee!”

~~~

Tag List:

@caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @kaqua @cameleonfrenzy @shyposttree  @ineedtogetoutofhere  @the-narnian-sea

Remember to check out my tag list so you’re updated when a fic you like is posted on my blog! Tag List

[eyeforabargain]

Every Diva Needs Her Autobiography!

“Come on in, angelfish! Come closer! It’s time you learned the full story of how such a fabulous woman came to be! Now, let’s see here... I grew up on the outskirts of Atlantica, the low rent district if you catch my drift. My mother... Now how shall I put this? She was a severe woman. In every meaning of the word. She had expectations and rules and you followed them. If you didn't, well... you just did with her. Actually, now that I think about it, Maleficent reminds me of her, and I'm not sure how I never noticed that.

"It was only the three of us back then: me, her, and my little skank of a sister, Morgana. Pretty sure mommy dearest turned daddy into a shrimp and gobbled him up when we were little. Anyway, we were always poor like the other Octopins, living like worms whilst the merpeople of Atlantica sang and danced all day. Oh how it disgusted my mother how much the Atlanticans hoarded for themselves. She pushed us so hard to be powerful enough to take everything that Atlantica had for ourselves. I rose to the challenge; Morgana never did.

“Morgana hated me when we were little. And I know what you’re thinking, but this time, I actually didn't do anything to her... aside from being our mother's favorite daughter. It's hardly my fault that mommy loved me and not her. I earned that love fair and square, just like I’ve earned everything that’s come my way. If this world was a meritocracy, I’d be ruling it by now! Magic, however, wasn’t my only talent either. I always loved being the center of attention, and I knew how to command a room. It’s only natural that I found my way to the theater!

“Back in the day, there was a traveling theater company, the Deepwater Dramaturgy. They were the best of the best, so of course I had to audition and get my chance to perform on stage with them! Let’s see... I played the evil stepsister in Ashpuddle. I originally wanted to be Ashpuddle herself, but I quickly found that villains were more fun to play! Oh! I did Sir John Faltrident in Merry Wives of the Wadden Sea, and then the Nurse in The Shipwrecked Lovers! Now that's a fascinating role! I've often contemplated having a séance to talk to the actress who originated that part from beyond her watery grave, because I have lots and lots of questions for her. HA!

“I have so many fond memories of the theater, but perhaps most importantly, it opened the doors to the palace for me. You see, King Triton had just lost his wife, and he had a castle full of little mergirls to entertain. So, he invited the Deepwater Dramaturgy to perform in the palace and keep the mood cheerful after the recent time of mourning. Well he took one look at my big beautiful self on stage, and he was absolutely transfixed! A little potion I slipped him helped matters along, of course, but I made sure that I was irresistible to a poor unfortunate widower.

“The two of us began our passionate scandalous love affair behind closed doors, and I had him hooked like a worm! He gave me a position at court to justify my presence in the palace, and I quickly set to work turning that ceremonial position into one of real power and influence. My mother was so proud of how far I’d climbed to get near to the top! Of course, Triton didn’t want to tell his pretty little daughters that he was seeing another woman so soon after their mother’s death, so he introduced me to them as their “Auntie Ursula.” Unfortunately, that’s where those nonsensical rumors about Triton and I being brother and sister cropped up. HA! I mean, really, we look nothing alike! Simple fools!

“That’s about the time I heard the news my mother was floating on her death bed. I think seeing her favorite daughter get within striking distance of the trident and crown put her at peace enough to move on. I know she wanted to hold on a little longer to see my victory, but it’s for the best she passed when she did. Living through my banishment would have destroyed her! This way, I got to hold her tentacles while she drew her last breath and throw her a royal funeral after. Morgana had unresolved drama there, but that’s her problem. I don’t give her much thought, you understand.

“Living it up in the palace and enjoying the fantastical feasts and exquisite art was truly the life! Sadly, all good things come to an end. I knew I had to make my move on Triton soon, so I began cultivating a magic to hypnotize him into marrying me and legitimizing me as Queen of Atlantica in the public eye. That way I could bump him off in some tragic accident and take the crown for myself. But that meddlesome loud-mouth crab Sebastian caught on to my plans, and he blabbed about it to Triton. My spell wasn’t ready yet, so what was a poor girl to do?

“Well, I figured it was time for a last ditch effort; I’d just take the trident and crown by force! When Triton came to banish me and cast me out, I attacked! We fought magic vs trident on the balconies of the palace, and though I put up a good fight, the power of the trident was too great for me to overcome. Triton defeated me, and OH the toll it took on my poor body! I could barely swim after that, but swim I did! I swam away from the palace and out of the kingdom a broken woman. Triton could have pursued and finished me off, but I suppose his weak heart kept him from doing that. 

“I fled to the Kingdom of the Octopins, my mother’s homeland. They’d been fighting border skirmishes with Atlantica for years, so they welcomed me as a hero for my attack on Triton. I was too injured, too weak, and my magic was no match for the trident’s power. I knew I couldn’t face Triton again. However, during our battle, I managed to siphon off enough trident juice to forge a second trident almost as powerful as Triton’s! I gave it to the leader of the Octopins and told his army just how to slip past the Atlantican’s defenses in the Sargasso Sea. The plan was perfect! They would fight and defeat Triton and put my skinny bottom on the throne! But you know what they say about the best laid plans. The great war hero Apollo spoiled everything by shattering the trident, and that was all Triton needed to drive my army back.

“Brute force had failed me twice. I knew cunning was the only way to get what I truly wanted. I set up shop on the outskirts of Atlantica in a sunken ship from the Kingdom of Malak. It was a homey little place to make my own, and the petrified remains of the crew gave it that deadly and lethal vibe that I love so much! HA! I believe I actually have Grimhilde to thank for that. I should let her know how much I appreciated it at our next luncheon. While living in exile, I found a couple young street eels named Flotsam and Jetsam who’d lost their parents in a shark attack. They were clever and ruthless, and I admired that about them. I put a roof over their head and taught them all about living the good life. They’ve been mommy’s little poopsies ever since! 

“The boys served as excellent spies to keep a magical eye on Atlantica, and they also were quite talented at luring unsuspecting merfolk into my clutches. It was hard being banished, but I found “gardening” to be very therapeutic! Having a collection of souls as a trophy for every deal well struck, making it so they’re powerless to do anything but to watch me continue to win? Mmm, just delicious! I eventually outgrew my little sandbox, though. I struck a deal with the King of Moray people to obtain the corpse of the Serpentine monster his people had put down, and I moved my lair to be inside the belly of the beast. Worked out perfectly!

“I had a few run ins with Triton and the people of Atlantica over the years, but my plans were foiled again and again by Triton’s youngest daughter, Ariel, the little hussy. The girl had a fascination with human things and seemed to have a knack for getting into trouble, and that made her unique amongst her dull sisters. I knew if there was one weak link in Triton’s perfect little chain, Ariel was it. She would be my ticket back into power, and so I had my boys keep an extra close watch on her. And, wouldn’t you know it? The girl fell in love with a human prince! It was almost too easy! I didn’t even have to do anything. Triton practically pushed her right into my clutches.

“Ariel and I struck a deal. I would turn her human for three days, during which time she’d have the opportunity to get her prince to fall in love with her. All it would cost her was that beautiful singing voice of hers. I was sure she’d fail without much trouble, and then I’d claim her soul to lord over Triton. But the little tramp was better than I thought, so desperate times called for desperate measures! I turned myself into a beautiful woman named Vanessa and used Ariel’s captive voice to seduce and enchant her prince. Give the girl credit, she and her filthy friends exposed me and put a stop to my wedding to the prince, but they were too late!

“Per the terms of our contract, Ariel was mine forever, and just as I knew he would, her dear old daddy came rushing off to the rescue. My magical contracts are unbreakable even for the sea king! He had no choice but to sacrifice himself to save his precious little girl. The sap! I took the trident and the crown at long last, and then I became RULER OF ALL THE OCEANS! ... That is, until Ariel and her sentimental fool of a prince interfered and drove a ship right into my belly! Oh the PAIN! Absolutely horrible what that big bad prince did to a poor sea witch. Where, oh where, is the justice in this universe?

“But, sweetcheeks, if you’ve learned anything from my tale, it should be this: you can’t keep a good witch down. I always have a plan B, even for death. Amazing how contracting your own soul back to yourself just shakes up the whole process. Your girl’s back and as gorgeous and fabulous as ever! And next time, I’ll finally get Triton and his little mermaid too!”

[aimzicr]

The Court of The-King-Who-Would-Be-Crowned has never seen such uproar. His daughter has never been so loud, so furious, has never filled a space with screams and feathers and the blast of a winter storm. And all over a mortal? She is bid to be silent, and she refuses.

"There has been no crime," the King insists, the pressure of his authority coming down like a hammer. "Behave yourself in my presence."

"No crime?!" Her voice has never been so loud. The air crystalises around her. "They were mine and my own, and stolen from me!"

"Were they?" The King asks. "I saw no brand upon them. They had not eaten or drunk of your table. They were mortal. Therefore, I am not bound to answer your call for vengeance." His voice softens, as though in appeal to the one he calls his daughter. 'It was just one mortal, dearest. You can find another."

Agony at his description of a friend unbound to law turns again to fury at the idea that such a person could be replaced. "Never. Never will I. And there must be justice for this!"

"You defy your father's judgement?" The Honoured Dealer smirks.

Other members of court are not as bold as he, and hide their smiles behind fluttering fans or raised hands or carefully-maintained glamour. There has not been such entertainment had in centuries, to see the polished and poised Winter Swan raving and weeping and defying an open order from her sovereign.

The Swan rounds on the Dealer, hissing, teeth bared, an inch from his face. He flinches, but holds his ground. His confidence is not shaken when she whispers her promise: you shall bear the blame for what is to come. Then she twists herself into feathers, and in swan form she leaves. The whole countryside - fae territory and mortal scope alike - ring with her agonised and mournful howls all night.

Things move too quickly, then, for the Courts to understand. For them, who have centuries of seasons, a week should be less than a blink. Yet in a week, the territory of the Dealer and his kin is laid bare. Mortals come in their greedy droves, with picks of iron shattering the border stones and axes of iron to cut down the ancient oaks. When the Sisters of the Petal went down with song and seduction to call mortals to their doom, these greedy men threw handfuls of salt, and bound each woman to a name, and burned them at stakes of yew wood. A week, and the ancient untouched forest became a logging camp, and all ancient mystery was stripped from this part of the world.

The-King-Who-Would-Be-Crowned sought out his daughter, where she stood upon her frozen pond. He scolded her for her vengeance, for stripping the Courts of one of their own. The Winter Swan looked on her father like she would look on a hated stranger, and told him to go drown himself.

Mortals continued to learn about the sacred mysteries that kept the Courts safe. Rivers were dammed, lakes were dredged, standing stones were defaced and toppled; salt was scattered, names were used like lassos. The Summer season was stripped and shrivelled. Autumn and Spring soon felt their territories likewise invaded, and could do nothing. They were named, and they were burned, and they were lost.

The-King-Who-Would-Be-Crowned sought out his daughter again, and told her she had gone too far. If this continues, there will be no court left. The Winter Swan arched her neck proudly, nodded, and told her father to go drown himself.

Songs full of salt and iron and binding names were sung by children, taught by the wailing bird that circled overhead. Axe and shovel and poker and spear press and push and dig into the territory of the fae. The Courts are broken. All will become fable, or forgotten.

The-King-Who-Would-Be-Crowned sought out his daughter, one last time. "All this for one mortal? Our world ends, our lives end, because of one mortal? You cannot follow him if you die! You will be unmade, and for what?"

"For one mortal," she said, with a cold smile. "For one dear friend."

Bonus:

A fae forms a genuine bond of friendship with a human. As a prank another fae decides to kill their friend. Their ruler decides the murder did not violate any fae laws and issues no punishment, so the first fae dedicates their life to getting revenge by teaching humans all the rules of the fae.

[seaweedroll]

Her dearest friend. Part 2

Sexy creeps creeping in the shadows? Check. 'Only she can fix him?' trope? Check. Dramatic beach scene? Check check check! Part 2 is here and things are about to get steamy. Things will only get worse from here.

The next few weeks were filled with joy for Y/N. People at the court grew to love her warm and open nature and soon she became the talk of the season. As per Aemond’s prediction, a flock of suitors followed soon after. Everyone wanted to take a look at the beautiful lady Stark, adorned in exotic fabrics, asking the impossible riddles, and telling tales of her travels.

Three people absolutely despised this: her father, Aegon and Aedmond. Lord Stark was flooded with marriage proposals from prominent lords, the intrigues interfering with his work at the small council. Lord Lannister had his sights set on Y/N; Ayeden could not refuse him straight away and that was enough for Lannister to start courting Y/N, showering her with gold and red silks. Ayeden Stark did not like it, but he had to admit to himself that Lannister was the safest suitor compared to the other two who competed for Y/N’s attention.

Aegon, to everyone’s surprise and worry, barely left the Red Keep. On most of the days he was almost sober, wearing clean clothes and not reeking of brothel. Every morning he would take Y/N for a walk in the gardens, kiss her hand and melt under her touch. He wasn’t stupid, he knew she only saw him as a friend, but he hoped if he tried hard enough, perhaps, she would love him. That’s all he wanted: someone to see him and love him for who he was, not who he was made to be. He tried so hard to be good for her, restraining his carnal urges and only letting them out in the privacy of his room, touching himself while moaning her name.

Aemond watched her from the shadows, invisible eye observing her every move. His blood boiled every time he saw her holding his brother’s arm or entertaining the lords who were desperate for her attention. He wanted to their hands off and feed them to Vhaegar. But Aemond knew Y/N had no taste for violence. She was kind and loving and always chose to see the best in people. However sweet that was, the silver haired prince wished she didn’t see other people. He wished to lock her up in his chambers and… No, he would shake the impure thoughts, concentrate on his training. He would not dare to dream about her naked body, writhing underneath him, screaming his name. Aemond didn’t know whether this was due to his love to her or fear of what he might do once he set his mind free.

‘It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?’ Ayeden walked into his daughter’s chambers. ‘The winds have changed two days ago, and they finally brought the summer from Essos’ he smiled and sat next to her on the windowsill. He was determined to talk to her about a marriage proposal from the Lannister lord.

‘That’s why I can’t sleep’ Y/N smiled gently and leaned her head on his shoulder. Lord Stark’s chest tightened – his daughter was everything to him; he would never do anything to hurt her or force her to marry a man she didn’t like. His resolve melted, perhaps, he would speak about it another night.

‘How are you finding King’s Landing?’

‘I love it! There’s always something happening, always new people. Aegon seems to be doing better too. I made him try oranges. I wish I could spend more time with Aemond’ she openly admitted. Y/N never had any secrets from her father. Just one.

‘Y/N, remember what I told you? They are not your friends. Aegon will snap eventually and hurt you in the ways only a man can hurt a woman’ he shivered at the thought ‘And Aemond w..’

‘Aemond would never do anything to hurt me’ she got up from the windowsill, resolve burning in her eyes. ‘He is my dearest friend and I know he considers me his friend too. If only…’

‘If only I knew that you’ve been exchanging letters with him for years? Y/N you forget who I am’ he stood up as well ‘I see everything, and I hear everything’.

‘If you did, you’d know that he cares about me! My only true friend’ hot tears threatened to spill from her y/e/c eyes.

‘He is not your friend. He watches you from the dark corners, follows you whenever you go. You do not see him, but I do! He’s in love with you’ he shouted. Shocked, Y/N took one step back. ‘And Aegon too. It’s only a matter of time before something bad happens. The Targaryens are not renowned for their patience’ he looked down at his daughter who was putting the pieces together.

‘I am very tired, father’ she finally looked up and Ayeden understood that the conversation was over. He bid her good night and quickly departed from her room.

As soon as the door closed, Y/N collapsed in her bed. She hated fighting with her dear father, but she was more concerned about what he said about her dear princes. Aegon and Aemond were in love with her. She did have a crush on Aegon when she was younger but now that he was married to Helaena she would never date to look at him in that way.

Aemond was her dearest friend, her confidant who knew everything about her. She felt safe in his presence and… calm? No, far away from calm. Everytime he was around her she felt excitement, skin ablaze craving his soothing touch, heart beating so fast she considered going to the maesters. Things rubbing together whenever she sat watching him train, fruitless efforts to ease the discomfort. Y/N Stark now had a name for that discomfort. She was in love with Aemond Targaryen.

To escape her thoughts, she put on a cloak and snuck out to the beach like she used to do when she was little. Y/N ran, hot tears of frustration streaming down her face. How could she not know? She must truly be a silly naïve girl who knew nothing of life.

As she approached the water, she pulled off her clothes until she was left in a white night gown. Y/N plunged into the waves, cold water washing all her worries away. She stood there, staring into the darkness until all she could think of was the warmth of the fire and soft covers of her bed.

‘Y/N what were you thinking?!’ she heard an angry familiar voice. ‘Leaving the castle alone, at night? What if someone had followed you?’

‘Like you’re following me? Watching me from the shadows?’ she shouted, voice breaking due to her shivers. Aemond took his cloak off and stepped closer to Y/N.

‘Answer me!’ she demanded.

‘Y/N put this on, you’re shivering’ he wrapped her in his cloak. She tried to struggle but his grip was too strong. ‘What happened? What brought this on?’

‘Do you have feelings for me?’ Y/N blurted out. ‘Are you in love with me, Aemond?’ she demanded.

Aemond searched her face for clues but all he could concentrate on was her lips, her full lips that looked so soft. Having her here, on an empty beach in a gown that left little to imagination. So close…

‘I do, Y/N’ he admitted. ‘I loved you since we were children’ his voice reduced to whisper. He felt vulnerable confessing, preparing himself for an inevitable rejection. Why would she want him when she could have any good-looking lord?

His gloomy thoughts were interrupted by a kiss. Y/N crashed her lips against his, her hands getting lost in his silver hair. He instantly responded, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her closer with the intention to never let her go.

‘I need you, Aemond’ she whispered against his lips, hands traveling down to the buttons of his jacket.

‘No, my love’ he cupped her face. ‘I cannot touch you until we’re married’ he kissed her. Y/N pulled away from him, his words bringing back to reality, making her realise the weight of her actions. If anyone saw her here, at night, kissing a man in a wet gown, she would be ruined.

‘I have to go’ she rushed towards the castle. Aemond picked her things up and followed close behind, watching her and making sure she was safe, unaware, that someone else lurked in the shadows.

Tagging all my Aemond hoes: @moonmaiden1996 @hhjhbhh @rosaryos @verycollectivecreator @discowizard88

[nikikyuuun]

you have asked and I shall deliver /j

may i get a hc on the differences between jun, adonis and rei with their ✨professional✨ personality/facade and how they are in their private lives with s/o?

also i hate that im slowly becoming a junp bcus of u i despise you

-🍭

HELLOOO BELOVED i hope your junp conversion is going smoothly 🥰🥰 this is a lot shorter than usual cause apparently my brain cant do a venn diagram in my head and resorts to. two columns. category a and category b. there is only one item in each. like our singular brain cell ♡

❧ adonis, jun, and rei's public personas vs. how they are in private

content warnings: none

❧ honestly, adonis isn't much different onstage as compared to, well, everywhere else. in jobs, and meet and greets, and interactions with the rest of undead in public, he tends to come off as very genuine—which makes for a sharp contrast and good complement for rei's and kaoru's practiced charm, and koga's brusqueness overall. the "adonis" that's widely known to the public is rather reserved, but kind and gentle nonetheless. it adds to some of his charm as an idol, no?

❧ with you, adonis isn't much different—but there's a thoughtfulness to him that the fans rarely get to see. the way he lightly tugs you closer to him on a crowded train, or the way he gently combs tangles out of your hair. he may not have some kind of elaborately-scripted public persona, but the difference in everything from his demeanour to his body language is undeniable—as genuine as he comes off on stage, adonis is just that more himself, around you.

❧ as a member of eden, jun has at least some semblance of a reputation to uphold. he wouldn't say he's at the level where he needs a script to follow like nagisa, but... it's more of his conduct—posture, and tone of voice, and word choice, and outfits, and... he supposes it's a bit of a price to pay, so he often just sucks it up. to the public, jun may not be as popular as, say, nagisa or hiyori, but his fans have come to know him as polite, and good-natured, and down-to-earth.

❧ jun is a lot less subdued with you, though—less picky with his words, less uptight. hanging out with you after a long day of smiling and waving in front of cameras feels a lot like taking off a heavy coat when walking into a warm building. it's honestly rather funny how quickly he seems to slump over, one hand stuck in his pocket and the other working the stiffness out of his neck—mumbled profanities leaving his lips all the while. jun is very casual around you, even if you're his partner: laughing or pushing away your face in those cutesy photo booths around the mall, or challenging you to a little mini-competition at the arcade.

❧ rei likes to think that his rather unique way of speaking is what distinguishes him to his fans—a vampire like himself must also speak with dignity, no? it doesn't matter if he's a guest on a talk show, or simply entertaining his audience with idle chatter in between songs onstage; rei's words always fall smooth and calculated and charming from his tongue, each motion of his hand or inclination of his head practiced and neat—not scripted, per se, but the ease of it all adds to his image, doesn't it?

❧ while rei has no qualms about looking cool in front of you, too—fufu, i must give my best efforts in courting my dearest partner, after all—he doesn't lay on it as heavily as he might in public. especially during the day, or in especially hot summers, he's almost straight-up lethargic, shamelessly teasing you about how he needs an energizing kiss from his beloved to wake him up. it's not as far a cry from how he is on stage as some may think, but just enough for you to be able to tell that he doesn't intend to hide things from you.

[van-zieksy]

Dear van zieksy,

Hello how are you? It is I, your dearest Reaper-san. It hasn’t been long time since we last exchanged pleasantries but since then I had many ideas on questions I woulf like to inquire. I will keep it simple. This question is not that particularly hard because I am simply curious about your ships with Barok van zieks. Who do you think out of Kazuma, Naruhodo or even Herlock would be most suitable for him and why they in particular would make the bets romantic interest for our reaper. Obviously this is just all hypothetical and if you don’t feel comfortable you can analyze from more plantonic perspective and well since we already established the most ideal type for Barok van Zieks I think we can delve deeper into people around him. Also this is all based on the fact Barok isn’t straight which brings me into second question - do you think Barok doesn’t care about gender when it comes to romance (I l know you said he treats all people equally in court and even more so in personal life bit I forgot if you mentioned whether you seem him as pan/bi etc.)

Once again thank you very much forr inputs on our beloved prosecutor

All the best,

Yours

Reaper-san

Reaper-san!!!

I am doing quite well. Thank you for asking. I hope you are doing excellent! Thanks for reaching out to me.

I would like to preface this question with the following because I have seen some people get very upset about certain ships:

I generally stay out of the whole shipping aspect of characters quite simply because I try to remain neutral about it. I do have my favourite ships, but to me, all ships are valid (as long as we’re talking about adults, which should go without saying). We are hypothesising about fictional characters, so people should be allowed to ship whoever they want without being provided grief about it from other fans. Fictional characters and fiction are supposed to bring us joy. Why agonise over something that only exists to entertain us? It is fine to theorise and analyse fiction—which is also what I am doing—but once we try to apply real-life principles/ideals/etc. to it, it can quickly get ugly because not every piece of fiction is deep, a representation of real life, or supposed to be taken too seriously. It is okay to analyse, as long as we always keep in mind that fiction is fiction. Since I have started to draw a clear line between real life and fiction, I am much happier and am able to enjoy things with a more carefree attitude. With that being said, I can see Barok with pretty much anyone. A beautiful piece of art or a well-written story about a particular ship is always welcome, regardless if the ship would make sense canonically or not. People are free to express themselves. All opinions are valid. For example, I have recently had someone discuss Barok and Mme Tusspells, which is not a very popular pairing amongst the fanbase, but what they described was interesting and it is just as valid as any other ship, regardless of how I or others feel about it. When I share shipping-related art or similar on my blog—which I rarely do—it simply means that I am enjoying this particular work and appreciate the effort that went into it, nothing more.

As for Barok’s orientation and if he cares about gender as far as romance is concerned. In the context of this fictional universe, I definitely think that anything is possible. If Barok falls in love with someone, it is regardless of their social standing, their gender, their past etc. He falls in love with someone based on their character and how he feels when he’s with them. We are all people, and he knows that. Barok may be a stickler for etiquette and often say or do things in the game that are a reflection of his status as a noble, but he’s also quite the free spirit who does his own thing without much concern for his status. So yes, Barok is probably happy to enter a romantic relationship with anyone, but I would like to refrain from officially naming or applying a certain orientation to him (that is up to each individual to decide; everyone's opinion is valid).

Now then, let’s delve deeper into Barok and his possible love interests. But again, all three ships you’ve mentioned are equally valid to me.

Ryunosuke:

Barok and Ryunosuke were total strangers when they met. Over the course of the games, they developed mutual respect and admiration. Ryunosuke admires Barok for his dedication to the truth/fairness, the way he treats people in court and his brilliance. Barok admires Ryunosuke for his courage and determination. Ryunosuke cares about Barok’s well-being because he has respect for him. He specifically sought him out after the latest attack on „the Reaper“. He then wanted to defend Barok because he fully believed in him. He was one of the few people who eventually realised that Barok is misunderstood by many and falsely ostracised because of that. And once Barok got past his initial impression of Ryunosuke (i.e. his eyes reminded him of Klint and Genshin + Ryuu defending a clearly guilty man), he specifically sought him out in court because Barok a) respected Ryunosuke's courage and determination, and b) tried to understand what happened in his own past through him. It was interesting to see their relationship develop in front of our eyes. There were little hints we could pick up on that told us exactly where they were in their relationship at any given point in time. While I never saw them as rivals or enemies in the way I see certain other AA defence attorneys and prosecutors, we can’t deny that they were on opposite sides in the courtroom, even though both of them were seeking the truth. So the whole enemies-to-lovers trope is very intriguing. Barok allowed Ryunosuke to become more confident and can benefit from Barok's "calm-as-water, keep moving no matter what" persona. Ryunosuke can help Barok regain his trust in people with his sincere attitude. Both are down-to-earth and seek tranquility/peace. With Ryunosuke going back to his home country after DGS2, it may be hard for them to develop a romantic relationship. However, I do believe that they stay in contact, exchanging letters and pleasantries, clearly longing for each other’s presence. I can see Barok visiting Ryunosuke in Japan, where they then realise that their feelings for each other are more than just friendship. Eventually Ryunosuke ends up in Great Britain for an extended period of time, and that’s when they officially enter a romantic relationship. I actually like the idea of Ryunosuke settling down in Japan for a while but Barok stays in Great Britain because he wants to have a positive impact on the justice system as Lord Chief Justice or Attorney General. They lead a long-distance relationship for a while, visiting each other throughout the year. A few years into their relationship, they both become restless and want to lead a more stable lifestyle. While Barok is more than happy to finally retire and move to Japan, Ryunosuke makes the decision to leave his law firm in the capable hands of the attorneys he has trained. This allows him to permanently relocate to Great Britain in order to live with Barok, who does everything in his power to support his lover’s career in his new home country. Ryunosuke is also excited to be able to be around the friends he has missed so dearly. Maybe they will both retire to Japan once the time comes. Their future remains undetermined.

Kazuma:

(Just look at that face. Clearly Kazuma is up to something lol.)

With Kazuma becoming Barok’s apprentice, they are bound to spend lots of time together. Initially I see them as in sort of a healing phase based on the events that unfolded in the last two cases. Barok learning to accept that there was more to the events ten years ago than he was aware of, that he needs to stop letting past events and long-gone people dictate the present and the future, and that he is a stronger person than his brother ever was. Kazuma getting over his „inner demons“ (anger; okay with having a not-so-innocent and an innocent person die) and learning to accept that while his father was innocent of one charge, he was guilty of something else and not as pure as he thought. Both have lost something and someone dear to them, but the only people to blame for that are their respective family members and one particular overzealous individual. Both have looked up to someone who turned out to be not-so-perfect after all. Both have to start looking into the future and realise that their families and their past don’t define them. They are not to blame for anything. They are more principled. Kazuma’s and Barok’s destinies are intertwined. They are both very dedicated, kind and sincere human beings and professionals, so I am sure they will achieve a lot together. As they get to know each other better, they realise how similar they actually are. Kazuma allows Barok to finally open up again and learn to trust someone. Kazuma, on the other hand, benefits from Barok’s composure, experience and quiet dignity. They now have a professional relationship where one can completely rely on the other. I think the difference in power (i.e. Barok the mentor, Kazuma the mentee) is not necessarily an issue because I see Barok treating Kazuma as an equal. He doesn’t think of himself as above Kazuma, even if that may be the case on paper. Of course he will have to give orders to Kazuma every now and then, but overall I see it more as Barok providing Kazuma with the tools he needs to help himself. Kazuma is intelligent and independent, yet he appreciates to have someone around who guides him. After all, Kazuma is in a new country pursuing a new profession, so he can’t do it all by himself. I like the idea of Kazuma living in one of Barok’s guestrooms. Barok has more than enough space and could benefit from having someone other than his staff live with him. They are experiencing many wonderful things together. There are challenges, which is normal when people live together. Eventually they get to the point where they realise that there is romantic attraction. Of course they are both too stubborn to admit it, so there’s much awkwardness and dancing around the facts. Instead of confessing their feelings for each other, the truth comes out on a random day during some random shared activity. Example: Think Barok’s ungloved hand accidentally touching Kazuma’s as he is leaning down to point to a particular paragraph in a book. Awkward silence and blushing. But they simply can’t contain themselves anymore and go for a kiss at the exact same moment. More awkward silence after that kiss. Then Barok just picks up Kazuma to take him to his room. Kazuma wants to protest because he has his pride after all, but quickly decides against it because it’s what he’s been yearning for all along. Kazuma grows into a fine prosecutor. And newly-appointed Lord Chief Justice Barok van Zieks finds it hard to not give preferential treatment to prosecutor Kazuma Asogi.

Herlock:

(They already know how to act like exes to the T, so there's that...)

I firmly believe they have a shared past and the reason they feel superficial animosity for each other is because of what happened ten years ago and because they are in very different positions requiring very different approaches to fighting crime. Let’s leave it at that. They are going to spend more time around each other because of Iris. My headcanon is that Iris learned who her parents are when Yujin and the others were discussing her heritage in the antechamber after Barok’s trial, but she’s feigning ignorance in order to get everyone to stop worrying about her. Eventually she confronts Barok, though. She wants to spend as much time around him as possible to make up for the lost time, and during some of their outings, Herlock is present. Barok and Herlock really are very different. Barok is calm, collected, serious and goal-oriented, Herlock is, well, Herlock. :D I think eventually they realise that opposites can attract each other. While Barok is still annoyed at Herlock when he’s unintentionally inconsiderate and disrespectful to other people, Barok sometimes has to suppress a chuckle because of how over-the-top his new friend is in such situations. Yet I also think that Barok’s nature will inspire Herlock to become more calm and considerate. And Herlock will inspire Barok to be less serious, smile more and partake in activities Barok never even considered, such as visiting shady markets to acquire questionable substances for Herlock’s experiments, or spending time at pawn shops so Barok can buy him all kinds of oddities. They complement each other with their different personalities. I think Herlock does not really have much romantic experience, so when he starts having feelings for Barok, he naturally thinks there’s something wrong with him. He can’t explain why he blushes around Barok, or what that warm feeling in his chest is, or why he is much happier when Barok is around, or why he is having dreams of doing things to Barok he never thought were even remotely possible. He tries to find a scientific explanation for it, and the result of his analysis is that he’s having some weird disease that is so far unknown to the human species. He approaches Iris with his concerns and all she does is laugh. She tells him that the only cure for this ailment is to face the root of the issue. Either he doesn’t tell Barok and will regret it for the rest of his life, succumbing to far worse symptoms, or he tells Barok to find some relief and turn those symptoms into something far more beautiful. One day Herlock is visiting Barok in his office to drop off some paperwork. Without knocking, he enters Barok’s office and proclaims, „Iris says I am in love with you and if I didn’t tell you I’d die, so here I am. I am quite fond of my life. Please accept me, my dear fellow.“ Barok, who is sipping some of his wine as he’s looking at notes from today’s trial, is clearly shocked and doesn’t even know how to respond. He's heard the detective say some very ridiculous things before, but this is clearly the icing on the cake. „Oh, may I add I observed you from the gallery today, my dear Mr. Prosecutor? You looked splendid. I surmise your flexibility will come in handy once we are ready to partake in some of those activities I have been dreaming of for the past few weeks.“ There’s the death glare we’ve all come to know and love from Barok. After he politely asks Kazuma, who has been giggling from the desk in his corner, to take his leave, he’s now ready to address the subject. As it turns out, Barok has been harbouring feelings for Herlock for quite a while, but he wasn’t ready to come forward with it just yet. He appreciates how Herlock allows him to be more carefree and would like to take this next step in their relationship. There are many ups and downs in their relationship because they are so different, but this is exactly what pushes both of them to re-evaluate who they are as individuals and what they want out of life. This introspection allows their relationship to bloom.

I love all three ships and think they would/could all make sense.

Wishing you a great weekend! Until our next exchange. <3

With my kindest regards,

[visd3stele]

Oak and the throne

summary:

TW: none

A/N: I always hoped Jude and Cardan would keep the throne, so I'm glad Oak likes the mortal world so much :)

Next one should be up by thirsday

Thank you so much for the request, hope it's what you expected. xoxo

@britishbookworm2 requested here

masterlist

"Oak! Come back here," Jude's voice carried through the palace. Despite years of dealing with stubborn faes in the council, eliciting orders to soldiers and servants alike and talking down to her subjects as Cardan does, her voice was steady, even and almost sweet as she yelled after her little brother.

Little brother. The thought seemed out of place. In his years in the mortal world, Oak had a growth spurt, while she remained the same. Young, not yen an adult, yet passed through much more than her elders could claim to.

"No!" Oak shouted back, though he stopped in the middle of the throne room. "No," and he turned back to Jude, walking fast with his now bigger, stronger goat legs. "You promised me I won't have to take over if I don't want to. Well, guess what, Jude? I don't!"

He didn't tower over her like she expected. His bent knees cutting from his height. But Oak, the boy she used to lean down to hug and kiss on top of his horned head, still stood taller than her at the throne's dais.

"You should have taken it in writing, little brother." Cardan chimed in, bemused. A glare from his wife shut him up, though still smirking, and the High King opened a second bottle of wine.

"Oak," Jude begin again. "I know it's not ideal. When all this started, you were so young. I get it's a little scary and overwhelming. But it's your birthright..."

"It's Cardan's birthright too." Oak protested, crossing his arms over his chest after pointing a hand towards the King sitting on the throne's dais. His tail bounced left and right in amusement as he raised the bottle towards his half brother and gulped down a mouthful of wine.

"Speaking of Cardan," Jude seized the opportunity, "he didn't want to be High King either. But he got used to it. He came to like it. Tell him, oh, dear husband." The look the High Queen gave her lover contradicted her words, for nothing short of a clear threat shone in her eyes. The fae just smiled to himself, used to his wife's antics. He made a show of getting up on his feet, taking a few steps forward with his normal care free elegancy, when Oak's words stopped him.

"If he likes it that much, why can't Cardan still be King? I thought you liked to be Queen, too, Jude. Don't you?"

Both the warrior mortal and the peaceful fae stood glued in their places. Perplexed. Twenty years ago, when she started her ascension to the throne, Jude did so with only one purpose in mind: put that crown on Oak's head. Every decision she made, each plotting and scheming should have led to the celebration of High King Oak of Greenbriar line. Didn't it?

Now that she thought about it, things changed. Jude couldn't say when or how exactly. But at some point between then and now, she started to see herself as the real queen. High Queen in her right, not just a replacement until Oak is old enough.

Maybe it was when she choose to love Cardan and he made her his equal by splitting the throne in two ostentatious ones right in the middle of the room. Maybe it was when the Court of Shadows gifted her the title as a nickname. Jude wouldn't admit even to herself how much though she'd given to that afterwards. Or maybe it was recently, in the years after breaking Cardan's curse. Years spent ruling together, bringing up a better Elfhame than either of them grew up in.

As for Cardan, the High King's eyes darted to the crown, fingers itching to pick it up and place it atop his head. To give it a light push so it'd lean on one side, but never falling. As if it clinged to him. As if it chose him.

It's true, the youngest prince - as he thought himself for so long - never craved the throne. Why would he? He was the least favorite child, not good enough to deserve their father's attention. His mother's love. So how could he be a good king? But after Jude tricked him and all Elfhame bowed to him, looked up to him, something shift inside him. Cardan actually enjoyed the process of thinking through a court scheme. The insides of a carefully given order - a pawn in a bigger game. He found it entertaining to search ways to deal with the council, to make them bow to his whims. And when he married Jude and those whims matured into interests, well, building a kingdom of dreams none he or his wife dared to ever hope for, leaving such a legacy behind, he, Cardan Greenbriar, the pitiful prince, it felt right.

"You don't wish to rule, Oak?" Cardan asked, more concern than he ever spoke with lacing his voice.

"No! Never did, never will."

Jude could recognize a bit of Vivi in the way Oak said it, rolling his eyes and putting accent on certain vowels. But Vivi insisted it wasn't unusual in the mortal world, humans using this sort of speech all the time. Thinking about it, seeing her little brother clear for the first time she summoned him in Fairyland, Jude realized Oak would look out of place in fae's clothes. The green hoodie he wore and dark grey jeans fitted him perfectly.

"But would you be alright there? Hiding your real self, your magic?"

"I'm not hiding, Jude," Oak's voice softened. His big sister didn't want to ruin his life. She was looking after him, his happiness in the only way she knew how. The Fae way. "I mean, yes, people see what I want them to, what with the glamour and all. But it doesn't mean I don't get to be myself. I go to college, you know? Herbologist," he chuckled to himself. "I like it. I have friends, and... and one day, when I'll meet my Heather, then I'll skip to telling her the truth and... I don't know what then, but it'll be fine. I'll be fine, Jude. I promise."

It took several minutes for Jude to reply. She eyed Oak the entire time, her mind swerling, trying to keep up with the speed of her thoughts. Eventually, she saw his truth, just like when she faced hers own: she wouldn't fit in the mortal world, she loved Cardan, she was the High Queen. And Oak? Oak would make a great herbologist - whatever that was - because he doesn't fit in Elfhame anymore. And she won't be the one to crush him or his hopes.

She nodded her head, Cardan's cue to drop a silly, drunk-like, huge smile and take the crowns in his hands.

"Promise you'll visit, though."

It was Oak's turn to nod, a grin pulling his lips upward. "Of course. I can stay for dinner, if you promise not to offer me a court or something."

Jude laughed. "I think we can do that." She turned to her husband, who hummed distracted and tucked a loose strand behind her year, putting extra effort in to trace the soft, round edge of it with his fingers. Cardan, then, crowned her, tilting his head. To no one's surprise his own tolkien of kinghood didn't fell, despite its crooked position.

"Unless a gift is required by tradition, brother dearest," Cardan said, "fret not. You'll be seeing nothing from us." And without waiting to see if Oak is following, he spooned his wife, his queen, in his arms, leading her to the dining table. All the way there, the king peppered his heart's chosen one with kisses, whispering promising for the night. Silk words about a royal celebration in their suit and implications of a new heir to the throne, now that the one they'd planned for decided to go to a mortal college and stay there.

Oak smiled. Truthfully and heartfully. No, he won't be High King. But he felt like he owned the whole world hours later, when he got back to his dorm and picked up his pen to write some notes on next friday's homework.

[gaitwae]

Hello!! Mob!thor au please. You’re a successful and rising businesswoman and it’s your first time going to those rich people galas, there you catch thor’s eye and you spend the whole evening with him. Thank yew, stay safe😽😽

A/N: You have no idea how much I've been wanting to write this!! This is a Thor x F!Reader (anon requested businesswoman uwu)

Warnings: Slight harassment from Thor, implied only. Also a slight kidnapping. Non-threatening

Summary: Above!

Tags: @make-me-imagine @thorfanficwriter @bwemph @myraiswack @rorybutnotgilmore @loki-snape-our-hero @wolfish-trickster @lucywrites02 @mostly-marvel-musings @winterfrostsarmy @superheroesandstardust @castiels-majestic-wings @geekns @natandersonnla @cozy-the-overlord @megthemewlingquim @frostedgiant @whatafuckingdumbass @thebookbakery @delightfulheartdream @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @the-emo-asgardian @amwolowicz @itscomplicatedx @sophlubbwriting @darkacademicfrom2021 @lilyofthesword 

You had picked the perfect evening gown. It billowed behind you, and you received many compliments from it. It was your favorite color, and it matched your complexion. You had done up your hair. You carried your clutch tightly to your side. Although you were sure the rumors were only rumors, if there was any place they’d be disproved, it was at the Marvel Gala.

It was hosted every year by Tony Stark. He took business seriously. On top of the Asgardian mob rumors, you had heard he had some deals with the Odinson family. Whether or not the Odinson family ran a mob, they were still dangerous in court. Their lawsuit could mean the loss of your entire company. You shivered to yourself, glad that you had yet to make any sort of dealings with Valaskjalf Enterprises. 

You grabbed a flute of champagne off of a tray. You tried not to down the whole thing at once, but this was a nerve-wracking experience. You could make acquaintances that could — no, would — change your entire career. You smoothed your dress out in hopes of wiping your clammy hands away.

“Miss? Would you like to dance?” a deep voice asked behind you. You froze, slowly turning around.

Before you was a tall, broad, blond hunk of handsome with a thundering presence. He wore a crisp suit, and his face and hair were kept in an almost pretty manner. He was elegant, yet bold. He was massive, but perfect. You tried not to stare, but you found you couldn’t blink. The man smirked, extending his hand.

“Miss?” he laughed.

You shook yourself out of your daze, remembering why you were at the gala in the first place. “I apologize; who are you?” you asked, smiling awkwardly. “I don’t like to dance without knowing someone’s name.”

“My name is Thor,” he said. You set your flute down on an empty tray passing by, taking his hand. He tugged you to the dancefloor. “What is your name?”

“I’m Y/N L/N,” you say. “I’m the CEO of—”

“I know what company,” he cut you off, his eyes lighting up. “I was rather impressed when Father told us how far your little company had been progressing. Had I known the simple surname I’d been hearing was yours, why, I don’t even think we would be standing here.” He chuckled darkly. He began swaying with you as the music swelled. You shook at his tone. What could that mean? Who was Thor? “The other family business would have contacted you. You have a lot of potential at L/N Advancements.”

Oh.

Of course.

“You’re... Forgive me, I should have remembered. Thor Odinson,” you said nervously. You shook your head, unable to meet his eyes. Of course, the mobster would find you. Of course, the mobster would find you! Of course!

“Yes. I’ll assure you, no rumors you’ve heard are quite like the real deal.” He snaked his hand to the small of your back. “My brother often likes to... exaggerate our side company’s deals. I should really get you back to the business talk, but I want to keep you to myself a little longer.” Thor grinned a model’s grin. “Unless you’re scared of me, that is.”

“Oh, I’m not scared of you,” you said. You realized you still had your clutch in your grasp. That alone disproved your point. Thor took it from you, setting it on an empty table.

“You aren’t?”

“Maybe I was scared of getting mugged,” you admitted. “It’s silly.”

“I think the only thing you should be scared of is how you’re getting home tomorrow,” he flirted, pulling you closer. Much, much closer.

You put distance between yourself and the heir of Valaskjalf. “I don’t do that. I won’t. Sorry. I barely know you, and I’ve worked too hard to slip up or give in. I hope you can understand.”

Thor, who was taking the rejection as if it never happened, only smiled brighter. “You’re scared that I’ll take L/N Advancements away from you with just a night together?”

“I’m scared your father might decide I’m not worth trading with once he finds out I’ve done a little more than speak with his son,” you said in your firmest tone. Thor laced your fingers. You didn’t pull away from that.

“But he might decide you’re worth keeping around.” He stroked your cheek, moving to his own beat now. The music didn’t match your rhythm, but it was still as intoxicating. “I could get rid of all your enemies, you know. I could make you untouchable.”

“I’m not interested,” you said. You shook your head. “I need a drink.”

“You just downed a whole flute of champagne!” he tsked. 

“I still need one.” You lingered in Thor’s presence. He smelled of petrichor and fine cologne and a tiny bit of sulfur and something else that you couldn’t pick out. He hummed happily, as if he were drunk. He didn’t smell of alcohol, but his behavior could fool you in a second. 

“You’re quite the prey,” he murmured. “I’ll get you a drink. I’ll get you multiple.”

“I can get my own drink,” you insisted. “Please, Mr. Odinson, I’m happy to be by myself.”

“You should relax,” he, too, insisted. He gripped your upper arms, taking you in once again. “Really. Don’t let your fear stop you from having fun.”

“I’ll do what I like.” You tore away from Thor. “Thank you fror the dance, but I have to go talk to Tony Stark and Steve Rogers.”

“Have fun mingling!” He caught your hand and kissed it. You felt your belly set itself on fire. Did Thor want one night? Clearly. But what did he want from a night? Did he want information about your business? Or did he want to take advantage? Did he want to use you, and let you use him in the same manner? “I’ll see you some other time, darling.”

“Don’t clear your schedule,” you warned. 

Thor chuckled, “I’ll remember that.”

That didn’t stop him from following you around all night. He was by your side as if he was your partner. Whatever he had decided, it wasn’t going to change without a piece of paper signed by a judge...

Given that he was admittedly not only part of the city’s biggest mob, but a higher member, you couldn’t obtain that.

+-+-- 

Months later, and after many calls from Thor Odinson (who you did not offer your personal number), you finally started to cave. You let him have dinner with you. You took walks in the city during the daytime. You found he was a sensitive person, and almost three years of talking and dancing and Marvel Galas came and went before your first kiss.

Thor took a small sip of white wine, staring at you with electric blue eyes that you always got lost in. “Did I ever apologize for our first meeting?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so,” you answered. “I didn’t think you cared enough to remember it...”

“If I wasn’t in love with you,” Thor began, “I wouldn’t have stayed for as long as I intend to.”

“It’s been three years,” you whispered. “How long do you intend to stay?”

Thor wet his lips. “As long as you let me.” He reached over, cupped your face, and brought your mouth to his.

That was when the first kidnapping happened.

The room was dark. Your hair was being pulled back by meaty hands behind you. Your clothes were torn, and your eyes wouldn’t stop shedding tears. 

“Ms. L/N,” a deep voice mused. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’m glad my brother has someone to entertain him that doesn’t include a mortal injury... Since that nurse hit him with her car, he hasn’t quite been the same.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked the voice, wheezing and stifling a sob. You sniffled. “I don’t know why I’m here...”

“You’re here so we can talk.” A small light switched on. You saw a raven-haired man sitting in a small chair, one leg crossed over the other like the Joker. “Do you intend on strengthening your company with my family’s conglomerate?”

“No,” you said. You were shaking. You tried to look back at the meaty hands that held your head, but whoever it was made sure you watched the man. “No, I want to make it with my own merit. I don’t want to be absorbed...”

“Do you plan on staying away from legal trouble by making my brother dearest your... intended?” he continued, pulling a gun from behind him. He cocked it, keeping his cool eyes on you. He aimed. “If I think you’re lying, I’ll shoot. And trust me... I know a liar when I see one.”

“No!” you said again. “No, I don’t!” 

His expression never changed. He rolled his neck, then studied you some more. “Name your favorite thing about Thor.”

“His laugh.” You gulped. “I love when he laughs... really laughs. When he doubles over, cries, and then giggles about it hours later.”

The man sat back, turning off the safety. “Name his favorite drink.”

“Locally brewed beer.”

“What’s my name?” His forefinger slipped in front of the trigger.

“Loki!” Thor’s voice came from outside the room. You sobbed again. The door swung open, and the man stood from his chair. Thor gripped his brother’s lapel, throwing him on the wall. “What do you think you’re doing?!” 

Loki growled, dropping the gun on its side. “It wasn’t loaded! Calm down! Jane only wanted to stay for the secrets, I was simply—”

“I don’t care!” he snapped. “You have no right to kidnap her!” He was nose-to-nose with Loki, shaking him as he spoke. 

“Thor!” you cried. He swerved his head, letting go of his brother to come and rescue you. He shoved the meaty hands off, throwing a solid punch.

“Come with me,” he said, lifting you into his arms. You wrapped your arms around him, shaking and trying not to cry too much. He held you tightly. He took Loki’s gun off the ground. “Don’t touch her. She’s nothing like Jane, and if you’d listen to me when I talk to you, Father wouldn’t have put you on lackey duty!”

“Take me out of here,” you whispered.

“I can’t,” Thor said. He kissed your head. “This is my life... I love you, but if you can’t handle this...”

You held him tightly. “We should talk about this later...”

[mrs-gucci]

Doth Not Fear, For Our Future Awaits {Prince Kylo Ren x Reader}

@babbushka:

Happy follower milestone my dear friend!! My prompt idea for your consideration: A medieval AU where reader is a lady in waiting to the Queen at the royal court, and Kylo is the crown prince who is in love with her. They can never be together...or can they? However you'd like to take this, if you decide at all, would be so much fun! xoxoxo :)

author’s notes: hello, hello! I’m baaaaack after a lengthy case of writers block 😩 my dearest friend, my beloved, thank you for this wonderful request!! I’ll be honest, I restarted this about three different times, but I’m very pleased with how this one turned out for you <3 @babbushka​

warnings (what you see is what you’ll get!): fluff. forbidden romance/love. passionate kissing. themes of infidelity. use of Shakespearean English. some insults are thrown around.

no tw’s :)

word count: 1.6k

my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp​ @babbushka​ ​@mrs-zimmerman​ @dirtytissuebox​ @thepalaceofmelanie​ @einmal-im-traum​ kylo’s taglist peeps! @goddessofsprings @icarusinthesea @lumdelacour @readingreaver @eagerforhoney​ @trubluepensfan​ @beachwoodmonet​ (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or at the top of my masterlist.)

[NOT my art/image. full credit to the artist, therealmcgee, and found via Pinterest]

A gentle autumn breeze rustles the masterpiece of dark tresses that sit atop the head of crown prince Kylo Ren, who stands alone in the moonlight-illuminated garden. The birds have ceased their chirps and allowed for the nighttime singers to shine through, crickets and katydids creating a peaceful melody from amongst the grasses.

He stands by the pond, staring down at his gently rippled reflection in the water. A grimace seems to be permanently etched onto his expression whenever he’s in the presence of his overbearing mother or pesky new bride, creating creases in his skin that shall surely remain for the rest of his living days.

As he looks down upon himself under the soft moonlight, he can only see the miserable face of a young man trapped in the cage of a legacy, unable to free himself from the heavy chains of expectation and tradition. Tonight, though, those chains bear an even greater weight for the young royal.

You're all he desires in life, the only thing he wishes to seek out and fight for. Not the kingdom of Alderaan, not his new bride, not even his mother; it’s you. And now, he’s forever bound to the wrong woman, restrained yet again by the rigid ways of his family’s traditions.

What if he no longer wants to be Prince?

A hollow footstep on the stone courtyard startles him from his thoughts and he turns around to gaze upon the intruder of his serene privacy.

“I believeth thy new bride is awaiting that lady marital bedding.”

His expression softens upon the sight of you striding towards him, turning fully around to properly face you as you stand before him. He holds your smaller hands in his much larger ones.

“The lady shalt beest waiting for an eternity, then. I am doubtful of that lady did suppose pureness, if 't be true i am truthful.”

The two of you laugh softly together at his comment.

“I wanteth nay other, Y/N, only thee.”

You offer the crown prince a sad smile. “And I only desire thee, Kylo, but we simply cannot beest together. I am mistress in waiting to thy mother, the queen, and ye art did set to becometh king. 't is 'gainst the laws of the land and we shalt certes beest hanged if 't be true anyone ever did discover our love affair.”

He sighs, forehead pressing against yours as he looks longingly into your eyes. “I wish things wast not this way, yond people couldst beest free to marry for love, not for status or bloodlines.”

“Me too.” You lean into him, bringing your mouth up to hover over his, and his down to meet yours. Warm, gentle wafts of his breath smooth out across your lips and you give a soft whimper in response, pressing yourself further against him. “Telleth me all thee would do to have me as thy bride, Kylo.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper, considering you’re barely able to breathe through your nose by now, with your face practically smashed up against him, but that’s the absolute last thing you give thought to at a moment like this. He opens his mouth and lazily attempts to capture you in a kiss, fingertips pressing harder into your sides.

“Gods, I would doth aught for thee. I would giveth up mine coronet, mine legacy for thy handeth.”

Slowly, your arms slither up around the back of his neck, feeling a familiar heat rising and bubbling in your nether regions.  “Telleth me more.”

He’s practically slobbering over you now, so desperate to press his lips unto yours. The hunger surges through him as he pulls you flush against him.

“I would square for thee, square anyone for thy love to belong to only me. I would drop of sorrow mine bloody, beating heart out of mine own chest for thee.”

Your pulse throbs neath your flesh, the upbeat tempo of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You sigh into his open mouth, hand coming up to grab hold of his silky hair. 

“Moo.”

Suddenly, he sweeps you up off your feet and instantly presses you against the side of the nearest structure, effectively caging you in with his massive form. He snarls softly, pinning you even further into the wall, forcing a quiet gasp from your lips.

“By gods, Y/N, I would killeth for thee.”

You tighten your grip in his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. He returns the embrace with eager lips, tongue prodding and exploring every cavern of your mouth. His pelvis presses right up against your lower abdomen, rubbing his stiffening length up against you.

“Kylo.” A sigh pushes its way through your pursed lips as Kylo’s head dips down, lips pecking at the taut skin on your neck.

“Did shalt we runneth hence together. I wanteth to declare our love to the kingdom tonight.” His face lights up as he holds yours in his massive hands, smiling. “I’m sick of hiding in the shadows, sick of having to keepeth myself hence from thee.”

You’re riddled with worry over this sudden decision, rubbing the strong upper arms of your lover. “Art thee sure? This idea worries me greatly, mine sweeting. What if 't be true we receiveth did doth catch? They wilt throweth us in the dungeons for sure; our destiny wilt beest but soft decaying down thither until death showeth us mercy.”

“I don’t care. Allow me to prove all I would doth for thy love and for thy handeth, Y/N. I wilt taketh care of thee, I wilt at each moment maketh sure thee hath't everything thee couldst ever needeth and moo. And we wilt beest together, beest free to love one another at last. Who is't cares whither we art or what our fates wilt beest? We can finally beest together without restrictions, punishments or secrecy.” He presses you further up against the wall, lips parallel to your ear. “Mine life isn't worth living if 't be true thou art not by mine side. Wilt thee runneth hence with me?”

Simply just the thought of that makes your stomach go a flutter, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your eyes flicker up to meet his once more, hands cradling his handsomely carved face.

“I trust thee, kylo, thither's few or none will entertain it path thee decideth to taketh; I wilt remain by thy side. If 't be true thee wish to telleth the kingdom, then I wilt telleth those folk 'longside thee. If 't be true thee wish to runneth hence from this lodging, then I wilt runneth with thee.”

Kylo pulls you close for one more embrace, then guides you along back up to the party. Acidic nerves begins to crawl up your throat as the two of you draw nearer and nearer to the bustling ballroom.

Instantly, the Queen rushes over to her estranged son with a frustrated frown on her face. “Whither on earth hath't thee been?! Thy bride hath been by herself all night waiting for thee to returneth!”

He takes your hand. “The lady is not mine bride, mother, not anymore. Y/n is mine bride, and we don't care what everyone thinkest of our forbidden love. I've grown did tire of trying to prithee, of trying to followeth all of the traditions of our family. I wanteth to marry for love, not for the continuation of our lineage, and i intend to doth so with mine beloved.”

Now, people have begun to look onto the unfolding situation, finding it far more interesting than the festivities. Leia’s eyes search her son’s, then flicker over to glare into yours. A shiver swipes down your spine at her gaze of hatred.

“Thee've poisoned mine son. Callet!”

This gets the attention of even more patrons and suddenly, every single set of eyes are focused on where you stand. You wish to simply crumble in this moment, become one with the Earth in order to escape their accusatory stares. 

“How dare thee speaketh of mine beloved in such a manner?! Didn't thee heareth what I did doth sayeth? We don't care what thee bethink of us, what any of thee bethink of us. We wilt beest together, coequal if 't be true 't doth take every single moment of mine life to achieve.” 

The room is completely still and scarily quiet, not a single shift in position or breath can be heard in this moment. Leia stands up straight to look up into her son’s eyes. “I at each moment did knoweth thee wast nev'r did cullionly to beest in this family. I'm ashamed to hath't thee as a son.”

Patrons begin to stir and an angry unrest drapes itself atop the crowd.

“Throweth those folk in the dungeons!“ One says.

“Death to the coronet prince!“ Another exclaims.

From the very back of the room, another voice pops up. “Traitors!“

Suddenly, Kylo yanks you towards the stairs, breaking out in a full sprint.

“Runneth anon, mine love! We wilt hence!”

Your precious shoes fly off your feet as you run behind him. “Kylo! Mine shoes hath't cometh off! What am I to doth?”

He’s quick to scoop you up and carry you in his arms, breath steadily growing heavier with your added weight. He runs all the way down to the stables and seizes a tacked horse, mounting the perplexed creature swiftly.

“Taketh mine handeth. Doth not fear, for our future awaits, mine beloved.”

With a bright and hopeful smile, you take his hand willingly, the wind catching your hair as rhythmic hoof-falls carry you off to your new life, one you get to spend with the love of your life.

[powerfulredheads]

ERIS × FEMALE OC

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nesta Archeron hated Tamlin. She hated him for what he did to her sister. Rhysand's inner circle and herself are wary of Tamlin's new circle. However, a particular female caught her attention in the ballroom of the dawn court. Maybe it was the way she held herself. Maybe it was the way there was a hint of night court in her yet somehow is part of the spring court's circle. Maybe it was the way she wore a black suit. Whatever it was, Nesta Archeron did not expect to have a conversation with none other than the Spring Court's spymaster, Althea.

Nesta was even more surprised that she managed to hold a civil conversation with her, an entertaining one at that. Althea asked questions about her life as a human. Nesta was shit talking about Tamlin and to Nesta's surprise Althea laughed at what she had to say. They talked about books. Althea even recommended her a book, something about dark femininity. They even shared a dance, with her mate casting Althea hateful glares, and Nesta must admit Althea was a great dance partner. A friend from another court,Nesta thought, like how Mor was friends with Viviane.

For once, Nesta did not bother looking for her family and actually didn't mind talking continuously with Althea. However, that was short lived.

"Ah, I'm sorry to cut this conversation short, Nesta but it seems that my dear friend, Lucien, may need some help" Althea grimaced at the sight of a drunk Lucien drunkenly walking through the crowd to- oh by the mother- his eldest brother.

Nesta followed Althea's gaze to the sight and her eyes widened in shock. "What's with him?",she questioned as Althea made to stand up.

Althea sighed sadly, "He must have come across his mate and they might have gotten into an argument". Nesta just furrowed her eyebrows in concern, maybe for her sister or Lucien maybe both.

"It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, Nesta Archeron. Until next time" Althea smiled and Nesta found herself doing the same.

Althea made her way through the crowd towards Lucien and picked up her pace when she heard Lucien's rather loud voice.

"My dearest brother. Oh, how much I'd love to punch your awfully beautiful face" Lucien exclaimed, clapping Eris Vanserra on his shoulder. Eris stiffened, looked around to see if any of his brothers or father was watching then tilted his head to look at his brother.

Eris rose one brow, "You're drunk" he deadpanned.

Lucien gaped at him, "W-what? No! I'm Lucien, your youngest brother"

Eris rolled his eyes and opened his mouth ready to tell him off when Althea got in between them.

"Sorry to cut off this lovely, heartwarming brotherly reunion-" Althea took Lucien's left arm and place it around her shoulders to stop him from collapsing "but I'm going to put you to bed before you do something rash"

"Are you trying to bed me, Althea?" Lucien gaped at his friend, who he now considered his little sister, in shock.

"The fuck-"Althea said in confusion but was cut off by Lucien's dramatics.

"ABsoLUTEly not! I am-" Lucien hiccuped, "a mated male. How. Dare. You." Lucien somehow managed to garner enough strength to push Althea away.

Althea would have fallen if it was not for Eris who caught her at her waist. At the touch, Althea straightened her body and tried to stop the blush from forming on her cheeks. Pissed at how minimal contact managed to get a reaction from her, Althea stepped away from Eris' arms and glared at him. The bastard only raised his eyebrows in amusement and sent her a devishly handsome smirk.

This only pissed Althea off even more. She diverted her attention once again to Lucien any smack him up his head. Eris snorted. Lucien rubbed the back of his head, looking like a child being reprimanded by their mother.

"Lucien fucking Vanserra. Firstly, I have no interest in bedding you. Secondly, you push me like that again and I'll chop your arms off. You get me?" Althea threatened, pointing a finger to his face.

Lucien only mimicked Althea liked a child and grumbled something along the lines of 'yes mother'. Althea rolled her eyes but slung his arm over her shoulder again.

"Fare thee well, Prince Eris" Althea mocked and was about to take a step away from him and leave for Lucien's temporary room when Eris slung Lucien's other arm across his shoulder and they both quickly made their way out the ballroom without Eris' family looking.

"I can take care of him, you know. You risk being caught by your father or brothers" Althea grunted, shifting Lucien's arm at a more comfortable angle.

Eris said nothing. Only set his jaw tight and continued walking. It was silent for a while until Lucien heaved a dramatic sigh.

"What have I done wrong? I gave her space. I never forced her to do anything she didnt want to do. Am I not enough? Urgh, I'm only doing the bare minimum-" Eris cut Lucien off with a 'shush'

Althea's eyes softened at Lucien's words, "You are enough, Luc. She'll come around eventually"

Eris snorted, "Eventually? It's been two bloody years."

"Shut the fuck up" Althea huffed "She lived like what twenty years as a human? She's only been a fae for 2 plus years. Cut her some slack. Besides, adjusting to the fae world is one thing. Accepting a cauldron damned sacred almighty mating bond after being ripped from her human fiance she was content with is another." She continued.

Lucien just hummed sadly at that.

"Never stop fighting for love, Lucien" Althea said firmly, opening the door to his assigned room.

"You, place him on his bed. I'm getting him water" Althea instructed Eris.

That bastard, however, just threw Lucien on the bed.

"What the fuck Eris?" Althea seethed, turning around.

The idiot only smirked at her, "Such a lewd mouth"

"Get fucked" Althea cursed before she continued her task in filling the cup with water, distracting herself with her task or she might just strangle him.

Lucien gasped dramatically, "I'm falling- oh cauldron boil and fry me- is this how I die?"

Eris took a pillow and hit him with it.

"What was that for" Lucien exclaimed.

"Because I felt like it" Eris said in all honesty.

"Oh piss off" Lucien muttered.

Eris' face turned serious and glared at his youngest brother, "You should be more careful when being reckless. Beron or your brothers could have seen you. Attack you. You got away this time. I might not be there a second time. I might not save you at all" Eris said whilst taking out his waistcoat,untying his hair and putting a blanket over him.

Althea could feel that Eris didn't mean the last line at all. She came up beside Eris to pass Lucien the glass of water, "Drink" Althea ordered.

Lucien gulped all of it down and placed the glass on the night stand. He faced Eris once more, "Love you too, dog" before he passed out.

"Idiot. A lovesick idiot" Eris muttered with distaste.

"You still care about him" Althea turned to face him.

"I only helped you to get him out because the faster you leave, there's a higher chance that Beron or his brothers wouldn't see him with me" Eris countered.

Althea could have mentioned that she could make her and Lucien turn invincible and no one would see them but she didn't want just anyone knowing about her powers.

Althea just shook her head and chuckled, "Males. Is this how you say 'I love you' ?"

Eris snarled, opening his mouth to argue but Althea shut it with her hand like he was a mere dog.

"You care. You care so deeply. But you grew up learning to suppress such emotions. 'Love makes you weak' and all that egoistic male bullshit that is engraved in your brain" Althea said.

"You don't know me" Eris said, taking a step towards her. "Don't act like you do"

"No. No I don't know you" Althea looked up at him and turned to leave the room with him in tow, "But I understand why you do what you do. I see and I understand."

Eris stopped in his tracks. Something in him cracked. Under all the masks and armours he built over the centuries, something cracked. From under, something ignited and glowed so quietly but Eris just built up his walls again and followed behind her.

Just as Althea opened the door, Eris smelled something familiar. His brother, Asher.

"My brother's coming" Eris whispered. Althea eyed Lucien's door. Shit. He couldn't know or see that Lucien was in the room.

Without thinking Althea messed up Eris' hair. She took out her hair that was in bun and messed it up a little.

"Follow my lead" Althea whispered back, taking his arm and placing it around her waist. Eris tensed beside her.

Asher came to view, "Where. were. you" He bit out, "Father's been looking for you" He glared at Eris until his gaze landed on Althea. Eris glowered at his brother and took a step foward to shield her from him. Eris didn't know why but he did.

Asher ignored him and sneered at Althea, "What were you doing to my brother".

Althea feigned nonchalance and lifted a shoulder, "Ask him. He was doing me". Eris choked on his saliva, he tilted his head to look behind him and saw a smirking Althea. She was having fun with this. Eris supposed he could too.

Meanwhile, Asher's jaw dropped to the floor. Clearly Eris doesn't take up mistresses and even if he did, he hid it well.

"Watch how you speak to my lovely woman, brother" Eris drawled. He smirked at Althea when he saw pink covering her cheeks. She looked like a beautiful mess. For him.

Althea straightened her body and ran her fingers down Eris back. She smirked back at him when she felt him tense beneath her touch. She was enjoying this. The effect she somehow had over him.

This was all fun, Althea thought but her sisters by choice were probably looking for her and she did not want to be on the receiving end of Zaria's mother hen-ing.

Althea looked up at Eris through her lashes. "I'll see you again, Eris Vanserra" she winked and walked away. The last thing she saw was the flame sizzling in his eye. Mother bless her soul, Eris Vanserra was beautiful.

Eris watched as she left his arms. His heart was tugging towards her. His name on her lips should not be making him feel things or having rather indecent thoughts but it did. He watched her again as she turned a corner. He'll see her again, Eris thought as he and his brothers made their way to Beron. Not a farewell, no. A promise. One Eris intends to keep up.

[hrhduchessoflancaster]

Epilogue: Onwards

Disclaimer: see Prologue.

A/N: Here we are guys. This is the end of Fates Intertwined. It took me 8 years to finish this story. There are more than 760 pages (before the epilogue) written and it’s been a pleasure to share it with all of you. Yes, there’s editing to be done because there’s been misspellings and grammar errors here and there throughout the story but I’m really glad I’ve been able to really put pen to paper and bring my characters to life. So, to all of you, my dearest readers, my most humble thanks. The old and new, I couldn’t have finished this work without your love and support. Thank you, thank you, thank you! 

 All my love, Bea.

Ps: RIP HRH Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh (10/06/1921 - 09/04/2021)

____________________________________________________________________

June 2022

The twins were christened a few months after their birth in the Chapel Royal at Hampton Court Palace. The eldest of their daughters was named Sophia Alexandra Louisa Mary while the youngest, was baptised Elizabeth Victoria Frances Alice. Both girls’ name paid homage to the important women in their lives. A set of twins was something so rare in the Royal Family that their arrival was celebrated immensely by both the family and the public. For their christening, Sophia’s godparent’s were Beatrice, Peter Philips, Elle’s cousin Michael, and Melissa while Elizabeth’s godparents were William, her cousin Alice, Zara, and Trevor.

A second set of the christening gown had to be made due to it and the babies looked absolutely adorable side by side. Sophia had a a very distinct red tint to her hair, quite similar to Elle’s and her eyes were bluish green, like Harry’s. Elizabeth on the other hand, had very light blond hair, almost white, and her eyes were the most beautiful emerald green, just a tiny bit darker than her mother’s. The Prince and Princess of Wales held their girls with pride, with their boys by their sides as they left the church, surrounded by photographers and paparazzi who snapped picture after picture of the happy family. 

“ Mama… we go home, now?”, asked Owen, tugging on his mother’s soft cream dress. Elle looked down at her youngest son, whose hand she was holding while balancing Sophia in her arms. 

“ Yes, my darling warrior. We’ll be going home very soon. We’re having a party with grandad Charles and everyone. In the garden… remember?”, she said. Owen smiled and nodded his head happily.

“ Yes, mama. With cake!”, he replied. Elle giggle and nodded her head. “Yes, sweet boy. With cake. Now, come along.”, she urged her son to walk in the same direction as other family members were going and he tumbled over to where Harry was. The proud dad of four was holding Elizabeth in one arm and Arthur’s hand with the other, all the while talking to William and Kate.  

“ Darling? Your youngest son is desperate for some cake.”, said Elle to Harry, who laughed. Will and Kate followed suit and chuckled at their nephew’s antics. Arthur, George and Charlotte also got excited at the thought of cake and began chatting happily with Owen about all the sweets and delicious things they’d have at the party. 

“ So… double the trouble… how have they been?”, asked William as the group began walking together towards the cars, with the children walking in front of their parents, under their watchful eyes. Ed, who by now had everyone convinced would die a bachelor and was, perhaps for that reason, considered London’s catch, was entertaining his nephews and other children with his antics. 

“ They’ve been well. Very different temperaments though.”, said Elle. “ Sophia is definitely the more observant, quiet one. Elizabeth on the other hand, loves attention and can be really loud when she wants to. But they are both very sweet babies and the boys dote on them.”, she continued, caressing Sophia’s cheek, who had fallen asleep on her mother’s arms. 

“ That’s wonderful to hear.”, said William, smiling at his nieces. “ I’m happy we’ve even out with the girls now. And I have two nieces to spoil.”, he continued chuckling.

“ Oh yes… I can’t wait for them to be toddlers so they can run around with the boys around the gardens. Oh they’re gonna love our home in Sussex. They already do, actually. As does sir Lancelot.”, said Harry and Elle nodded her head, agreeing with her husband.

“ And please, don’t hesitate on calling on us for babysitting duties so you can have some alone time. We’ll more than happy to share the load.”, said Kate. “Beside, I miss having a baby around.”, she smiled then looked at her husband, who chuckled.

“ Baby fever, poppet?”, he asked her and winked at him, making the couple in front of them chuckle.

************

In the following months, Elle and Harry got visits from Mary and Richard, Valerie, Trevor and Luc and Elle’s parents. The twins now looked more like their brother had when they were around a month or two and were growing beautifully well. Their support system had been amazing, in particular Victoria and Rupert who, one afternoon as they had been spending some time with them at their home, had insisted on babysitting the kids for the evening so that they could finally get some time for themselves and go out. So, on the following evening, Harry and Elle took the car out, with Ingrid, Alfred and Leo along with them and drove through London on a scenic ride.

“ Where are we going?”, asked Elle, watching carefully where they were going. She keep on the lookout for anything she could recognise until she finally did. It had been years since they’ve been there but she smiled at the thought of the first time they both had stepped foot on The Garden.

“ I can’t believe we’re here.”, she said and her husband chuckled. Getting off the car, he rushed to get her door then took her hand in his. 

“ Come on, love. We have it all to ourselves.”, said Harry. Hand in hand, they ascended to the 7th floor. The place remained pretty much the same as Elle remembered but the decor and flowers were a little bit different. They sat together in the corner, with the London skyline in front of them, in the very same spot they did almost a decade ago. They were met with non-alcoholic beverages since Elle was nursing the twins — and Harry always shared on the no-alcohol policy whenever Elle had been pregnant or nursing — followed by the same food they had eaten on their first time there, chicken filet. 

“ You remembered…”, she said, taking a bite of the buttery and juice piece of meat. “Hmm, that’s just what I needed.”, she continued and Harry chuckled. They kept eating and reminiscing about the first months of their relationship.

“ Gosh… I was so nervous when I met you here for lunch that day.”, said Elle.

“ Tell me about it… I knew I had deep feelings for you, loved you even then, but I had no idea if you felt the same.”, said Harry, taking her hand into his once again. She smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

“ We’ve come a long way ever since that day, haven’t we, my darling?”, she said and he nodded his head. “Oh, speaking of which, I have something for you. To add to your collection.”, she said handing him a square box. Inside, two bracelets with the coordinates and dates of their daughter’s birthday. Harry smiled and put the on immediately. Then, reaching for his jacket pocket, he took off a square box of his own.

“ And this, is my something for you.”, said Harry. Curiously, Elle took the smaller box in her hand, with the familiar jeweller’s logo in it, and carefully opened it. Inside, there were two eternity rings: one with London blue topaz gems and diamonds, alternated in a white gold band and the other with Brazilian aquamarine and diamonds, alternated in a white gold band. Elle’s eyes widened and she looked up at her husband. 

“ Harry…”, she muttered. He smiled softly at her and took the rain band into his hands and slowly pushed it into her fourth finger, on her right hand. 

“ It’s only fair that the girls are represented as well. Topaz for Sophia and Aquamarine for Elizabeth.”, he replied. Indeed, when she had given birth to Arthur, Harry had given her a pair of emerald and diamond earrings that matched her engagement ring. When Owen was born, she got a diamond and sapphire pendant necklace that resembled Kate’s engagement ring.

“ They’re beautiful, my darling. Thank you.”, said Elle smiling lovingly at him. He smiled at her and pulled her closer to him, kissing her lips softly. She encircled her arms around his neck and deepened their kiss, urgency pouring over them. 

——— NSFW 

“ As much as I’m loving this… I’d like us to go somewhere else. And that, is my other surprise for you. Let’s get our things and get out of here, ok?”, said Harry, pulling away from Elle. However they were still close enough that their foreheads were touching. She smirked and nodded her head. The couple was giggling and teasing each other like a pair of teenagers as their RPO’s drove them to yet another familiar site: the Claridge’s hotel, the very same place Elle had spent the night before her wedding. Her eyes widened and she smirked once again at him.

“ We’ve got the Mayfair Suit for the night. Not the same you had but we don’t need that much space anyway.”, said Harry. “ Your parents are staying over so don’t worry. Leo, Ingrid and Alfred are gonna be in a suit down the corridor. Now… where were we?”, he continued and she giggle, smirking at him. They always been very passionate with each other, but it had been a while. He looked into her eyes and licked his lips, as she bit her lower lip, the familiar hint of mischief glowed in her eyes. Elle pushed him towards the bed and smirked, slowly peeling off her coat.

“ I see my temptress wants to tease me…”, said Harry, also smirking. Elle chuckled, now in her lingerie. She walked slowly towards him, crawling in bed and straddling him. Unable to keep his hands off of her, he took hold of her waist, pulling her closer to him and crashed his lips on hers, passionately. 

“ God I want you…”, he whispered to her as they pulled away. “ I want you now”, he continued in a firmer tone, looking once again deeply into her eyes. She lustfully looked at him and started undoing his clothes, kissing and licking each inch of skin as she took the items off of his body. Harry’s breathing became uneven, and she could see he was becoming desperate for her. She lightly scratched his skin with her teeth and nails, drawing heavy breathes from her husband. Once she reached the waistband of his boxer briefs, he had enough. In a sudden movement, he rolled them over and now he was on top of her, smirking smugly. 

“ My turn…”, he said, running his hands all over her body, tracing every line, bump and curve, kissing and worshiping her body as she breathed heavily. 

“ Harry….”, she moaned, pleading him. 

“ You took your sweet time. Now let me please you…”, he replied smirking.

——— end of NSFW

They spent the entire night enjoying each other’s company and being in each other’s arms, basking in the little peace they had at that moment, inside their little bubble. With all their duties and work, it was rare for them to have time for themselves, specially with four young children. Being able to escape all the fuss had been their saving glory, and much of it could be attributed to their home in Sussex. Their little safe haven. 

************

Fifteen Years Later

Elle could barely believe the day had come. It felt like something out of a fairy tale. And though it also carried a somber, solemn tone to it, it was day of celebration throughout Britain. Charles had passed away on the previous year and now, here she was, dressed in a white ball gown, with tiny gemstones, lace and gold thread with symbols from each part of the United Kingdom and all Dominions overseas. The set of coronation necklace and earrings glistered in the lights, as did the other jewels she had on her person. The deep purple cloak laced with ermine was draped and attached over her shoulders and Elle felt as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She thanked her ladies as both she and Harry were helped into the special royal garments that would forever change their lives. Reaching the White Drawing room at Buckingham Palace, which had become their residence since Charles’s passing, she was met with her sons. 

“ Mother… you look so beautiful.”, said Arthur, dressed in his military uniform, in the very same style as his father had worn before. Now 20 years-old, he had grown into a handsome young men, and was following into both his parents footsteps: he was studying Political Science and Diplomacy at Oxford and was also training with the Blues and Royals, in order to pursue his military career as well. 

“ Artie is right… you really look like a queen.”, nodded Owen. The youngest of their sons, now eighteen, had just started university at St. Andrews, like his mother. He was just as handsome and talented as his brother but but being a more soft-spoken person than his brother, he decided to take his time and do one thing at a time on joining the military.

“ Oh, thank you, my sweet boys. You both look very dashing in your uniforms.”, said Elle, beaming as the proud mother she was. “Do you know if your sisters are ready?”, she asked them, as she adjusted her cloak. Her sons also wore distinctive red robes and had their coronets in hand: Arthur’s had crosses and fleurs-de-lis and and arch, since he was the heir apparent. His siblings wore the same style but without the arch. 

“ Last I saw them, they were on their way to see dad. But they were ready.”, said Owen and Elle nodded her head. Her daughters were polar opposites but at the same time, very in tune with each other. While Sophia, now soon to be the Princess Royal, was quiet and more bookish, Elizabeth was very talkative and extroverted. Now at fifteen, they had been given more and more duties and often came along with their parents to engagements and celebrations. 

Soon, the whole family had met in the room for their final get together before their ride to the abbey. The children would arrive first as the couple had a longer journey through some of London’s most famous landmarks such as The Mall, then though Admiralty Arch, and down Whitehall, before entering Westminster Abbey. Elle stood there for a second, staring at Harry. After more than 20 years of marriage and a lifetime of knowing each other she often found herself looking at him, admiring him and seeing the changes, some more subtle than other, in his appearance. He looked so different from the young brash prince she got to know and love in their young adulthood. Now a father of four, a husband, a leader and soon-to-be king, Harry had matured and grown into much more than the man she knew he’d always been underneath that same brashness. She watched as each of their children hugged and kissed him, wishing him luck. The same smile and proud eyes looked at them all, something that had never changed since the very first moment he had seen them as newborns.

“ Mummy, you look so beautiful. And you’ll be even more so with that stunning crown.”, said Elizabeth, as she kissed her mother’s cheek. 

“ Thank you, my love. You look stunning yourself. And so do you, Sophia. My girls… so beautiful and clever. How did I get so lucky?”, said Elle, caressing Sophia’s cheek, who smiled lovingly at her mother.

“ Liz is right. You do look amazing. I hope one day I’ll be just as beautiful as you.”, said Sophia. 

“ Oh my darling…”, said Elle cupping her daughter’s cheeks with both hands and smiling at her. “ You already are. Inside and out.”, she finished, giving her a kiss on her forehead. 

“ Now come on you lot, you have to be at the abbey soon. Ofd you go. We’ll see you there.”, said Elle and her children nodded their head, making their way to the main hallway. 

“ Wish us luck!”, shouted Harry. He too watched them go then walked beside Elle, taking her hand into his, gentling brushing his fingers on top of hers. She looked at him and smiled lovingly at her husband.

“ Nervous?”, she asked. He sighed and nodded his head.

“You know, I never really thought about this day. And for the most part of my life it has been an impossible day. It had never crossed my mind William would abdicate. That was something I’d never even considered happening. And yet, here we are.”, said Harry.

“ Here we are indeed. And what a journey it has been.”, said Elle and he nodded his head again. “ We’re going to be fine, aren’t we?”, she asked. He turned his full body to her and grinned.

“ Of course, my love. We have each other. We have our children. We’re always going to be fine. More than that, we’re going to be happy. Til death do us part and even then.”, he replied and she chuckled. Leaning closer to her, he kissed her lips gently as she met him halfway, her hands holding onto the lapel of his robes. They were then suddenly interrupted by Ronald, Daniel and Lisa, who were looking very eager.

“ Your majesties, the carriage is ready. We should get going.”, said Ronald. The couple nodded their heads and, hand in hand, walked towards the State Coach which would bring them to one the most important cerimonies of their lives.

************

The morning of July 3rd 2037 would be remembered forever in British history. The procession of Prime Ministers, Members of the Royal Family, members of the nobility and aristocracy, politicians, the military and close friends filled the abbey, which was surrounded by a huge mass of people who had come to watch the coronation of their new king and queen. Inside the west door, members of their family, the young children as well as Elle and Harry’s own children took their place. William, Catherine, Beatrice and Eugenie would be among the peers escorting Elle and Harry to the throne as page and maids of honour. 

With the cheers and bells getting louder and louder, the royal couple entered the abbey. A guard of honour was formed at either side of the entrance as Harry and Elle stepped into Westminster Abbey. They were greeted by the Archbishops of Canterbury and York and the peers bearing the regalia — the crowns, sceptres, rings, etc — that they both would wear in a matter of minutes. I was glad, the traditional coronation anthem was played as they walked towards the choir. Elle walked in first, her ladies holding onto her long cloak, with the acclamations of Vivat Regina Alienora, by the King’s Scholars. Her heart was pounding, as she remembered walking the same path on her wedding day. She walked past the thrones and Saint Edward’s chair — the coronation chair — as she was presented to the peers and other members of the church who stood there and was taken to a smaller throne. Soon after, Harry walked in, with much more pomp and ceremony, with his acclamation Vivat Rex Henricus. He took his place beside her on the smaller throne as they waited for all the ceremony to proceed. Stabdibg up, they waited for the Archbishop of Canterbury to begin the recognition and then the oath.

“Sirs, I here present unto you King Henry, your undoubted King: wherefore all you who are come this day to do your homage and service, are you willing to do the same?”, said the Archbishop. And the assembly replied:

“ God save King Henry!”. Elle smiled and a single tear fell from her cheek as Harry bowed his head to the Archbishop. Sat in the Chair of the State, Harry was took the Coronation Oath.

“Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and of your Possessions and other Territories to any of them belonging or pertaining, according to their respective laws and customs?”, said the Archbishop.

“ I solemnly promise so to do.”, replied Harry.

“ Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?”, continued the Archbishop.

“I will.”, said Harry, firmly. 

“ Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the Laws of God and the true profession of the Gospel? Will you maintain and preserve inviolable the settlement of the Church of England, and the doctrine, worship, discipline, and government thereof, as by law established in England?”, he finished.

“All this I promise to do, perform, and keep. So help me God.”, ended Harry. He then signed the oath. Harry was then disrobed and taken to Saint Edward’s chair. There, the canopy was placed on top of his head, he was anointed and cloth of gold were placed on his body. He was then given the regalia, the Sceptre with the Cross, the Sceptre with the Dove, the Sovereign’s Ring, the Sovereign’s Orb and most importantly, St. Edward’s Crown. Zadok the Priest was sung as the Archbishop of Canterbury lifted the crown and said the prayers.

“"Oh God, the crown of the faithful; bless we beseech thee and sanctify this thy servant our king, and as thou dost this day set a crown of pure gold upon his head, so enrich his royal heart with thine abundant grace, and crown him with all princely virtues through the King Eternal Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen”, and then the crown was placed on Harry’s head. The peers the put on their coronets, including their children, as shouts exclaimed:

“ God save the King! God save the King! God save the King!”

Harry, now crowned and adorned, was sat on the throne for the homage of the members of nobility, a custom that dates back to the Medieval period. One by one, they gave their homage. William, among them. Kneeling in front of his younger brother, he smiled and said:

“ I, William, Duke of Cambridge, do become your liege man of life and limb, and of earthly worship, so help me God.”, he finished, before kissing Harry’s cheek, smiling proudly. 

After the homage was complete, it was Elle’s turn to be crowned. She kneeled in front of the altar, next to Saint Edward’s chair, while the canopy was placed above her head. She was then anointed, given the Queen’s ring, the Sceptre and crowned as Queen. Her crown was similar to those who came before her, minus a very particular diamond that had been given back to its people. It was, nonetheless, still encrusted with jewels and pearls, beautiful mounted on a platinum circlet with crosses pattée and arches on top of it. Elle then bowed before Harry then took her place beside him, on the throne at the centre of the abbey. 

With Harry at the front and Elle after him, the newly crowned King and Queen left Westminster Abbey at the sound of God Save the King. Entering the carriage again, they sighed and smiled widely to each other. 

“ I can’t believe that’s just happened.”, said Elle, lightly touching the crown on her head. They could hear the shouts on the streets as they made their way back to Buckingham Palace for the traditional balcony salute. Once at the palace, they hugged their children and they smiled widely at them.

“ You both did splendidly!”, said Owen grinning. “ More than that, it was perfect!”, exclaimed Sophia. 

“ Thank you, my darlings. I’m sure I speak for your mother and I when I say how relieved we are this is over.”, said Harry smiling.

“Well… at least this time, I didn’t have two small children to entertain during the ceremony.”, said Elle looking at her sons. The boys chuckled and nodded their heads.

“ I can barely remember papa’s investiture… I was so little.”, said Arthur.

“ I just remember the carriage ride afterwards.”, said Owen.

“ Well, you were asleep for most of the ceremony, sweetheart.”, commented Elle.

“ What about us?”, asked Elizabeth. Elle and Harry smiled at each other. 

“ Your mother was pregnant with you both then. Though she didn’t know it at the time.”, said Harry, smiling affectionately at his wife then at his daughters. 

“But soon after that, I discovered we would be having twins.”, said Elle, linking her arms with her husband’s as they waited in the room that led to the balcony. The girls grinned at their parents.

“ And soon, we’ll have to start planning your investiture, son.”, said Harry, looking at Arthur. The older of their children smiled and gulped, knowing full well the amount of responsibilities that would come with his new title.

“ And although you don’t get a fancy investiture, Sophia, you’ll also have a celebration here as you receive your new title of Princess Royal.”, said Elle, smiling at her oldest daughter, who smiled at her mother.

Their little family gathering had been cut short when Ronald announced the time had come for them to greet the public. And so they did. Together, the six members of the inner Royal Family stepped into the balcony — the princes and princesses with their connotes placed in their heads, shining under the summer’s son, while the newly crowned King and Queen waved in all their majesty to their subjects. 

“ I hope I’m up for the task ahead of me.”, said Harry, waving at the people.

“ Don’t worry, my darling. You are.”, said Elle smiling. “And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”, she continued, now looking at him. He turned to her and their shared a brief kiss before turning to their children and asking them to step closer to them. In all their widest dreams, neither Elle nor Harry had ever considered this would be what the future had in store for them. And yet, it seems their fates had long been intertwined and their destinies, set on the stars. 

The End.

[figonas]

As Warm As The Sun-Part 2

The Light of the Moon

The scent of his skin beneath the aroma of sweet wine blurs Jude’s thoughts. She’s tempted to reach for him again, to trace her fingers along his sharp cheekbones; pale as the light from a full moon, dusted softly with incandescent, shimmering gold. 

Summary: Part 2 is Jude’s POV of the scene from Part 1. Takes place during The Wicked King pretty much right before the Queen of Mirth scene and Chapter 15. Just a soft, fluffy response to the prompt; “hug me, I command it”.

Words: 2267

Rating: GA

Links: Part 1-Cardan POV | AO3

A/N: I struggled with Jude’s POV far more than I did with Cardan’s. I think because this is a really vulnerable moment and at this point in her story like Jude isn’t prepared to be vulnerable with Cardan. Idk, this takes place a little early in twk for Jude to be admitting she has feelings for Cardan, but this is fanfic and I do what I want. @jurdanhell this one’s for you my dude.

********

Jude Duarte, former spy for Prince Dain, seneschal to the High King of Elfhame, is exhausted. If she is honest with herself, which she often isn’t, she couldn’t remember a time since Cardan was crowned where she hadn’t been tired. Nearly every day of the last five months there was always something too important going on for Jude to waste time sleeping. There was always a problem to solve, a threat against the kingdom to thwart, an attempt on her life, or Oak’s life, or Cardan’s life. What Jude really needed was a shorter list of lives she was responsible for, but for now, a good night's sleep would have to do. She was almost too tired to be angry at Cardan for having her attend this stupid revel, almost...but not quite.

Early in the night Jude was doing her best to slip away after a meeting with the Living Council, yet another one Cardan had failed to attend and Jude had fought for every word she had to say. As she rushed out of the room she nearly collided with Locke, followed closely by Cardan, Taryn, and a group of court members she didn’t recognize. Cardan’s eyes met hers and Jude knew she was in trouble the moment he got that infuriating gleam in his eye, the look that said; Oh Jude, you will absolutely hate the next words I speak. And hated them she had, Cardan launched into details about that evening’s revel which ended in him asking Jude if she would attend the revel in full that evening, his voice practically dripping with mock innocence. Before Jude could answer with a curt and resounding no, Locke chimed in and did what he was best at; started trouble. By the time he was done with his mocking explanation of why Jude’s many duties robbed all her mortal energy and didn’t allow her to attend revels like the rest of the folk, the Living Council had moved from their meeting place to gather in the hall. Jude briefly entertained a fantasy of running Locke through with Nightfell just to be done with this whole encounter, but she realized Locke’s attempt to devalue her position had garnered a substantial audience so Jude was left with no choice but to clench her jaw and bite out an acceptance of Cardan’s offer.

Now, an eternity later, Jude stands to the side of Cardan’s throne scowling at the side of his horribly beautiful face as he downed the dregs of yet another gobet. She had given up trying to count his cups hours ago but the glazed look in his eyes told Jude it is likely someone would be carrying Cardan back to his chambers this evening. She took a cursory glance around the room eyeing the dwindling guests and the King’s Guard who all made a point to look anywhere but toward the dais, and realized that someone is most likely to be her.

As if on cue, Cardan stands swaying as he attempts to step forward and nearly pitches head first off the dais.

All of Jude’s training, both in Madoc’s house and as a spy for Prince Dain, have honed her reflexes and without a second thought her hand flies out fisting in the back of Cardan’s gaudy cloak of embroidered black velvet. With all the gentleness of someone who has spent the last four hours contemplating murder Jude yanks Cardan back against her and wraps her arm around his waist to steady him.

“As much as it would amuse me to watch you fall after you made me stand here all night for no reason, I’m too tired to pick you up off the floor,” Jude hisses in his ear, she throws his other arm about her shoulders and sets off down the handful of steps leading away from the throne. Cardan leans into her, his breath ghosting across her temple; warm and sweetened by wine, Jude can’t stop the longing that shoots through her like the peeling of a bell.

“Dearest Jude, are you trying to take me to bed?” Cardan’s mouth stumbles through the words, just as his feet stumble down the steps nearly dragging them both to the floor. Jude tries to tap into her anger that seemed so palpable only moments before but she can’t think past his hip pressed against hers, his arm warm and heavy across her neck and shoulders.

“Don’t push your luck or I’ll leave you to sleep on the floor in the middle of the burgh”. He laughs, truly laughs in a way that’s free of anger or malice. Jude tries and fails to suppress the small smile that touches her lips at the happy sound she so rarely hears from him.

The walk to Cardan’s rooms takes a lifetime. They don’t speak again, but Jude can feel Cardan’s eyes on her every few moments. His proximity makes the sensation hard to ignore causing a flush to darken her cheeks. Jude tries to focus on the path ahead and clamp down her desire to return his gaze.

Once in his chambers Jude abruptly releases him and takes a half step away putting much needed distance between them, but even then he’s still too close. The scent of his skin beneath the aroma of sweet wine blurs Jude’s thoughts. She’s tempted to reach for him again, to trace her fingers along his sharp cheekbones; pale as the light from a full moon, dusted softly with incandescent, shimmering gold.

Jude, no the rational voice inside her mind nearly screams. She clenches her hands into fists, a half second from running out the massive wooden door when Cardan’s voice startles her from her thoughts.

“Embrace me again,” he says in a voice that reminds her of another drunken request he made not too long ago; kiss me again, kiss me until I am sick of it.

Jude is weary, worn down, exhausted, the kind of tired that makes limbs sore and heavy as if she’d spent the whole day throwing rocks. In that exhaustion the Cardan-shaped wall built around her heart is lowered more than Jude would ever admit; she had refused him then, she doesn’t know if she can refuse him now.

“Go to bed Cardan” it’s as much of a refusal as she can muster with his eyes boring into hers, black and wanting. Her hand flicks out to point across the suite to Cardan’s ridiculously large bed.

“But I am your king, Jude I command it,” he grins like he’s gone mad but Cardan, who is less a living being than a fae revel given flesh and bone, looks horribly and unmistakably sad. It’s gone in a moment, replaced by feigned indifference so sharp it almost burns in his coal black eyes. But she had seen it there; a glimpse of the depth of his loneliness and misery.

“So I say again, embrace me and then I will concede and go to bed,” his tone is teasing, it does nothing to fool Jude.

She opens her mouth to speak but quickly shuts it. The feeling of slick, slimy guilt roils in her belly, guilt she often pushed aside in favor of anger and self-preservation. Cardan’s pain was not all her doing, she knew of his scars, on his skin and his soul, wrought from Baelkin’s hateful hands and the cruel indifference of Eldred.

But his position as High King, his empty life beneath a hollow crown was one she had thrust upon him through lies and deceit. Facing the truth of that in his eyes made bile crawl it’s way up her throat, and if Jude was honest with herself it shattered her heart into shards of broken glass threatening to shred her apart from the inside.

Guilt was not easy to feel, it was the feeling of admitting you had done wrong paired with the admission that you haven’t yet made it right. Jude had choked on guilt before but usually pushed it away, citing the safety of Oak and the stability of Elfhame; but those excuses fall apart like strips of wet paper when pit against the emptiness in Cardan’s gaze.

Jude curses herself, wishing for the days when she felt nothing but hatred for the High King, instead of the complicated mix of regret, shame, and desire she feels now. Swallowing thickly against her guilt, and before she can examine her own want too closely, Jude steps forward and wraps her arms around him, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

Cardan hesitates for a brief moment, before returning her embrace. Jude resists the urge to sink into his warmth, stops herself from tightening her arms and nuzzling her face into his neck; it’s power over her she won’t relinquish to him and an admission to herself she isn’t ready to face.

More than anything this moment feels fragile, as if Jude, mortal among fairies, human of the earth could break it with the snap of her fingers.

“I’m only doing this because I’m too tired to fight with you about going to bed,” she lies, to herself and to him.

Cardan doesn’t reply, simply holding her in a strong, steady embrace, his cheek resting light as a feather on her forehead. The unsteady balance brought on by Cardan’s overindulgence seems to evaporate as if, he too realizes how delicate this moment is. How easily it could shatter like a stone through glass.

She isn’t sure how much time passes as they stand there tangled up in each other, but her eyelids begin to droop as Cardan strokes lazy circles on her back with his thumbs.

In serious danger of dozing off Jude yawns deeply and steps back. Cardan’s hands bracket her waist as she pulls back and he makes no effort to remove them. The warmth of his palms seeping through her jacket keeps her heart pounding out a steady rhythm. She doesn’t know how to read into this small gesture of intimacy, if it means anything at all, so she simply ignores it.

“Alright, Your Majesty I indulged your wishes,” she stops another, smaller yawn with the back of her hand.

“Now to bed with you so I can go get in my own,” Jude points again in the direction of the vast expanse of pillows and spider silk sheets.

Cardan’s hands drop to his sides, he sways unsteadily as he turns, his drunken clumsiness returning now that the distance between them has broken whatever spell was cast over their embrace. She places a gentle hand on his lower back, when he leans into her touch Jude feels a rush of warmth as she walks him through his empty rooms.

“Careful with your orders Jude or I will tell everyone that you were kind to me,” he laughs though she can’t imagine why.

“Though I don’t think anyone would believe me,” he continues softly almost as if speaking to himself. She shakes her head though Cardan is too focused on his feet to notice. He doesn’t say the words with malice or venom but something twists in Jude’s chest all the same.

“You won’t remember this tomorrow anyway”.

She gives a gentle push as they reach his bed and Cardan flops down on the coverlet, gazing up at Jude in with something soft and yearning in his eyes. She leans over him, breath catching in her throat. The intensity of his gaze pins her to the spot.

“Oh Jude, loveliest of afflictions, I will remember this night for years to come.” He makes a move as if to reach for her, but Cardan’s hand falls back to his side as his eyes flutter closed.

“We’ll see about that tomorrow,” She makes a disbelieving noise and crosses her arms. Laughing softly as she takes in her disheveled High King.

Though Cardan’s eyes remain closed, his head turns in her direction as she laughs, as if he craves her laugh as she craves his; a moth to flame.

Jude backs away from the bed, retreating to the suites main door, but something stops her as she places a hand on the knob. Turning to peer over her shoulder she calls out softly through the dark chamber.

“Goodnight Cardan,” without waiting for his response she slips into the hall and flees toward her room.

By the time she reaches her chambers Jude is dead on her feet and desperate for the feel of her pillow against her cheek.

She strips off her weapons and clothes, tucking herself into bed instead of curling up in front of the fire as she most often does. It’s cold but the sheets and pillows are soft, as she relaxes into them. Sleep hovers nearby waiting to take her the moment she closes her eyes, but Jude stares up toward the ceiling keeping herself awake for a few more blissful moments.

Jude Duarte has made herself into a fearsome creature, one of the folk in spirit if nothing else. Tomorrow she will go back to her role as the High King’s seneschal, back to her knives, and seething looks, and harsh clothes. But tonight she will allow herself one small, indulgent moment of weakness and be simply; Jude Duarte, mortal girl.

Tonight she lies in bed and thinks of Cardan’s soft breath on her cheek, the stroke of this thumb on her back, the moonlight glow of his skin in the dimness of his chambers.

Jude isn’t sure exactly when she drifted off but her dreams are filled with yearning black eyes and strong steady arms. When she wakes she smiles to herself, wide and foolish, before donning the mask of seneschal once again.